lies (and how to unravel them) - nauticalwarrior (2024)

Chapter 1: 9/2, 9/3

Chapter Text

Shuuichi doesn't really like to lie, but it's necessary in some situations. He can’t just straight up say everything, and it’s often way less stress if he just denies some things.

“Ah, thanks for the offer Momota-kun, but I don’t normally eat breakfast...” Not a lie. “It upsets my stomach.” There it is. Shuuichi doesn’t know anymore, to be fair. After all this time, it probably would give him a stomachache. Momota, his roommate, seems to have decided that they’re going to the dining hall for breakfast, even though they don’t really know each other. Classes have only been going for a week, but evidently, Momota has decided that they’re friends. Shuuichi hasn’t minded yet, but he’s a little uncomfortable right this very second.

“What? If you don’t eat breakfast, then what do you eat in the mornings?” Momota doesn’t wait for a response beyond the confused noise that Shuuichi makes. Shuuichi jumps a little as Momota grabs his arm, tugging him through the door. “Everyone’s waiting for you!”
“Everyone?” Shuuichi doesn’t think he knows enough people for there to be an everyone, but he lets Momota drag him to the staircase at the end of the hall. At least he’s dressed. Most mornings, Shuuichi lies in bed for longer, and he’d still be in pajamas as a consequence.

Thankfully, Momota lets go of his arm when they actually start down the stairs. The lack of conversation hangs between them like a fog, and Shuuichi finds his chest prickling with anxiety. He tugs his hat lower on his eyes. This was a bad idea, he should have said no, he shouldn’t have let Momota take him out of his room, and now he has to eat in front of--

“Oi, Saihara.” Momota prods his side, and Shuuichi almost misses the next stair. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“Eh? I-It’s nothing...” Shuuichi curses his shaky voice. He’d told himself that he’d try and be braver in college, but so far, it hasn’t actually happened.

“Well, stop it.” Momota grins at him. “There’s not much point in giving yourself a headache over ‘nothing’.” They reach the end of the stairs, and Momota pauses so Shuuichi can walk more beside him as opposed to slightly behind like he’d ended up on the staircase. Shuuichi swallows and nods. He just needs to think about something else, right?

The dining hall is right beside the stairs, so he doesn’t really have much time to collect his thoughts before Momota is leading him (he’s gotten in front of Shuuichi again) to a long table with six students already seated. They look familiar enough, but one of them stands out especially to him; Akamatsu Kaede, from his English class, is sitting beside a boy with pale green hair and a striped sweater. Shuuichi almost sighs aloud in relief when Momota makes a beeline for one of the chairs near her. Shuuichi takes the seat between them, grateful that he knows someone here. They all look familiar, at least. In fact, now that he thinks about it, isn’t that Harukawa on Momota’s other side? Her gaze meets his, and Shuuichi looks away, cheeks flushing. Caught staring, what a great first impression Shuuichi. Good one.

“Saihara-kun, right?” Akamatsu’s voice startles Shuuichi, but he recovers quickly and smiles shyly at her.

“Yeah, that’s me. And you’re Akamatsu-san.” Shuuichi tugs at his hat, glancing to the side. He’s so awkward.

Akamatsu returns his smile. “How are you liking classes so far?” She seems genuinely interested, and Shuuichi relaxes slightly.

“They’ve been alright. All of my professors seem very nice.” He’s genuinely been enjoying his time in all of them, especially the introduction to criminal science.

“That’s good!” Akamatsu leans closer.

Shuuichi feels his cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah, it is. How about your classes, Akamatsu-san?”

She sighs. “Well, they’re all okay, but I think I took too many hours. It’s only been a week and I’m already overwhelmed.”

Shuuichi nods. Akamatsu does look tired. “How many credit hours do you have this semester?”

She grimaces. “Sixteen. I can’t really change it either, since dropping a class would put me under fifteen and I want to graduate in four years.”

“That’s rough.” Shuuichi doesn’t mention that he’s taking eighteen hours, because it feels like it’d be bragging. He opens his mouth to ask Akamatsu something else, but Momota taps his shoulder.

“Saihara, come with me and Harukawa to get some food.” Momota is already standing up.

Shuuichi glances at Akamatsu, who smiles. “Go ahead! I already ate.” She’s got a dirty plate in front of her, so Shuuichi nods and follows Momota and... Harukawa. She just looks generally very angry. Shuuichi is kind of scared to be so close to her, but Momota seems unaffected.

“Oh man, this all looks so good! Which line should we go to?” Momota turns back to Shuuichi and Harukawa, grinning.

“It doesn’t matter.” Harukawa is frowning, but she doesn’t seem to actually be bothered by all of this, so Shuuichi decides that this must just be how she is.

He tugs at his hat. “I think I’m just going to get some fruit...” He feels weird. That’s not too strange, is it?

“Alright, then it’s decided!” Momota marches off towards one of the shorter lines, and Shuuichi trails behind him. Harukawa is just ahead of him, and she keeps throwing looks at him that make him feel like he’s threatening her in some way. He almost apologizes, but stops himself because that’s ridiculous.

The line seems to be a sort of western breakfast, with french toast, pancakes, syrup, eggs, bacon, sausage, and at the end, a big bowl of chopped melon and pineapple. Shuuichi watches from under his hat as Momota piles scrambled eggs onto his plate. Harukawa takes one of everything except the french toast, forgoing syrup altogether. Shuuichi keeps his plate clean until he reaches the fruit, and he puts exactly eight cubes of melon and eight cubes of pineapple onto his plate. He feels his hands shaking as Momota and Harukawa wait for him. The plate is too heavy, too full in his hands, but he swallows down his anxiety and follows them back to the table.

“Are you alright, Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu looks at him with furrowed brows, and he nods, mouth dry.

“Yeah, just not really a morning person.” He hates lying. He’s not alright; he can feel the stares of everyone in the dining hall on his back, waiting for him to eat. If he glanced around, nobody’s actually looking and he knows that but...

She buys it, and her face relaxes back into a smile. “It’s nine already! Jeez, I hope you don’t have any early classes.”

He forces a smile. “English is my earliest, actually.” He spears a cube of melon with his fork.

“I bet you sleep every other day, right?” Akamatsu laughs. “Lucky. I have a class at seven thirty three days a week.”

Shuuichi winces sympathetically. “That would kill me, I think.” He bites into the melon and pretends it doesn’t burn his lips, paralyze his throat, dry his tongue. It’s too sweet. He should have tried harder to tell Momota he wasn’t interested in food. Or he could have just gotten the fruit to-go, eaten in his dorm where nobody can watch him.

“It’s not so bad! I think a night class would be worse.” Akamatsu rubs the back of her head.

“Yeah. I don’t have any of those either.” Shuuichi swallows the melon and forces himself to take another bite. It’ll look weirder if he leaves a piece half eaten than if he eats it all. Nobody is going to think it’s weird for him to be eating fruit in the dining hall. It’s perfectly normal. He still feels like he’s in an interrogation room, not at a table.

The green haired boy on Akamatsu’s other side taps her shoulder. “Hey, Akamatsu-san. Shinguuji-kun just texted me and said he’s in the courtyard by his dorm hall. We should head over there.”

Akamatsu nods. “Okay!” She turns back to Shuuichi, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Shuuichi smiles back. “Have fun!” He watches as she gets up to leave, the green haired boy standing up with her. He looks to Shuuichi and smiles.

“Ah, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Amami Rantarou.” He extends a hand, which Shuuichi has to set down his fork to shake. Shuuichi wonders if his palms are sweaty.

“Saihara Shuuichi. Nice to meet you.” Amami lets go of his hand and gives a little wave.

“Well, I’ll see you in history tomorrow, right? You should sit with me and Shinguuji-kun.”

Shuuichi nods, glad that Amami remembers which class they have together because Shuuichi didn’t. “I’ll look forward to it.” Shuuichi watches perhaps for a moment too long as Amami and Akamatsu walk towards the exit. He drags his gaze back to his plate. One down, fifteen to go. He stabs a piece of pineapple viciously, resisting the urge to go get a knife and cut it smaller. It won’t be any easier if it’s in more pieces.

--

Shuuichi wraps his fingers around the strap of his backpack where it rests on his shoulder as he walks into the classroom for his criminal sciences class. It’s still pretty empty, probably because he’s early, and his seat from last week is empty. Shuuichi feels his stomach flip over, and he’s so so grateful for Momota’s early morning class today because he managed to dodge the dining hall. He has a free hour after this, so he can eat if he really feels like he needs it. He slides into his seat and sets his backpack down before fishing around in it for his notebook. He didn’t forget it, did he? Ah, there it is. The notebook makes a soft thump when he drops it onto the table. Shuuichi flips to the first blank page and marks it with today’s date, his pen ink shiny and wet. His head feels fuzzy, probably because he didn’t sleep well last night. He doodles a little bird in the corner of the page, under the date.

“Good morning, Saihara-chan!” A voice right by Shuuichi’s voice startles him, and his pen flies out of his hands. The source of the voice, a boy with fluffy, dark hair, leans down to pick it up.

“H-How did you know my name?” Shuuichi desperately hopes he doesn’t actually know this guy, because if so he forgot about him which is incredibly rude and wow Shuuichi should have paid more attention last week--

“It’s on your backpack, right? Unless you wrote a fake name on yours!” The boy plops into the seat beside Shuuichi and stretches. “My name’s Ouma Kokichi.” He grins widely.

Shuuichi’s eyes flick down to his back, which says “Idabashi Kiibo” on it.

“Is that a fake name, or is the one on your bag the fake one?” He watches as Ouma giggles.

“Oh, they’re both real, but the bag isn’t mine. I just took my roommate’s.” He leans back in his chair, hands up behind his head.

“By accident?” Shuuichi kind of feels like he already knows the answer.

“Definitely!” Somehow, that doesn’t make Shuuichi any less sure that it was on purpose. The conversation pauses after that, and Shuuichi feels like Ouma is staring at him. He tugs at his hat and flips back a few pages in his notes, skimming what he’s already read. He already studied it last night, but it’s better than feeling Ouma’s gaze. Shuuichi feels something burn under his ribs, anxiety tingling and simmering. He tries to think about anything other than how he’s probably weirding Ouma out and maybe even he’s a little annoying right now.

“Hey, Saihara-chan.” Ouma pokes his shoulder, and Shuuichi knows that the smaller man can feel how he tenses up.

“Yes?” Shuuichi lets his hat block Ouma’s eyes from his sight, but he still turns his head so he’s sort of looking at him.

“Can I borrow a pen? I forgot mine.” Ouma is still grinning, but he sounds almost sheepish. Shuuichi hands him the pen.

And Ouma proceeds to pull a different one out of his pocket, tuck Shuuichi's pen behind his ear, and start drawing on Shuuichi's notebook with the pen he just claimed to forget.

“What--”

“I lied! I am a liar, Saihara-chan.” Ouma sticks his tongue out at Shuuichi, who leans back so that he's not so close to Ouma. He feels blood in his cheeks, his breath stuttering in his throat. What does Ouma think he's doing? Shuuichi watches Ouma draw a doodle of himself, grinning that same grin in purple ink as he's grinning in real life.

“What are you doing, Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi feels irritation bubbling under the anxiety.

“What it looks like!” Ouma leans back. “Jeez, what a boring reaction. I thought you'd be more interesting than than, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi sputters, searching for a response, but his professor walks in right before he can say anything. For some reason, Shuuichi spends the whole lecture feeling like a disappointment, even though he should be mad at Ouma for saying something like that in the first place. When the lecture ends, Shuuichi all but runs out of the room. He sips on unsweetened tea for lunch because his heart is pounding too fast for anything else.

--

Shuuichi's university requires mandatory group study sessions three hours a week for undergraduate students, and his is on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, about an hour after criminal science. He's feeling better than earlier, but his head is fuzzy and light because he hasn't eaten in twenty four hours, give or take. He trails behind Momota on the way to the library, the silence comfortable, for once. Momota looks beat, probably the result of staying up late before his early start today. Shuuichi swallows as they enter the study room. There's sixteen of them, and for some reason he's not surprised to see Ouma in the corner of the room, drawing on a notebook in his hands. Shuuichi forces his eyes off of him and looks around more. Akamatsu, Amami, and Harukawa are here too, sitting on the floor with a very neat looking girl and a very short guy. He breathes a sigh of relief when Momota heads in their direction.

“Hey, looks like we got lucky!” Momota grins at all of them. “Hoshi, right? Good to see you again!”

Momota shakes the short guy's hands, and Hoshi nods at him. “This is Toujou.” He waves to the girl, who nods and smiles.

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Shuuichi smiles. “I'm Saihara Shuuichi.” He feels something in him uncoil as every introduces themselves in the little group. They all seem relatively normal, sane, friendly. Shuuichi is okay with this.

“Should we be studying?” Amami rubs the back of his head when they're all done exchanging names. “I don't really want to, to be honest...”

“We should play a game to break the ice!” Akamatsu smiles wide. “That way it won't feel weird and we can all be friends.”

Shuuichi nods. “That's a good idea, Akamatsu-san.”

“Do you have any suggestions for a game to play?” Toujou tilts her head slightly and puts a hand on her chin. “We could always ask to reserve a room in the gym.”

“We could play two truths and a lie?” Everyone looks at Amami, who chuckles. “We did it at my job in high school and it worked out really well.”

Shuuichi finds himself nodding. It's a good idea; unlike some games, nobody could be forced to answer awkward questions.

“That's a wonderful idea!” Akamatsu clasps her hands together and stands up. “Hey, everyone! We think it'd be a good idea to play two truths and a lie for an ice breaker. Is everyone okay with that?”

The various people scattered around the room nod or make confirmations. Shuuichi had a hard time remembering all of their names (and some of them don't have any classes with him), but they all look friendly enough. Ouma in particular looks delighted by the suggestion.

“Who should go first?” A guy with long hair and a face mask asks, his eyes passing over everyone in the room. The people are starting to more or less form a circle around the table in the center of the room, which is lacking chairs for some reason. Shuuichi wonders if the university forgot them.

“Ooooh, I will!” A girl that Shuuichi definitely doesn't recognize raises her hand and hops up a little. Her silver pigtails bounce against her yellow rain jacket, which is odd because it's sunny out.

“Ah, Angie-san, go ahead!” Akamatsu smiles at Angie, who grins back.

“Hmm, let's see...” Angie puts a finger to her chin. “I have two cats, I’m allergic to eggs, and I'm blessed by a handsome god!”

Shuuichi thinks. She can't have cats if she's in a dorm, but she may be living off campus. Unless this study group is freshmen only...? He doesn't think anyone would use something like religion as their lie, so it's either the cats or the eggs.

“The eggs!” A short girl with red hair and a wizard hat points at her.

“Wow! How did you know?” Angie tilts her head and puts both hands on her cheeks.

“Magic, obviously.” The girl clears her throat, looking proud of herself. “I go next, right? I'm Yumeno Himiko.”

“Wait, how do you have cats?” Harukawa interrupts Yumeno. “Aren't they against the rules?”

Angie smiles, again. “They live at Atua’s temple, of course! That's my real home, even though I have to have a dorm room.” Harukawa pauses, before nodding.

“H-hey!” Yumeno stomps a foot. “I was talking, you know!”

“Yeah!” A girl with... pigtails...? shouts from where she's standing next to Yumeno. “Let Yumeno-san speak!”

“My bad.” Harukawa is glaring daggers at both of them.

“A-Anyway, as I was saying, I'm a mage, I hate sweets, and I hate the ocean!” Yumeno crosses her arms over her chest.

“How can you hate the ocean?” Amami mutters, barely audible. Shuuichi glances over at him, but nobody else seems to hear.

“Um, is it the second one?” Akamatsu bites her lip.

“Yes! You got it.” Yumeno nods. “Impressive for a muggle!”

“Huuuuuuh?” Ouma says, with exaggerated confusion. He’s sitting on one of the corners of the table “But two of those were lies, right?”

Shuuichi glances back at Yumeno, who’s now very red in the face. “What?!”

“I mean, magic’s not real, so...” Ouma puts his hands behind his head and leans back. “You’re only supposed to lie once, Yumeno-chan~!”

“Y-You!” Yumeno points at him, her hand shaking.

“Leave Yumeno-san alone, you degenerate male!” The pigtail girl also points at Ouma. “Or I’ll kick you into tomorrow!”

Ouma’s face shifts so fast that Shuuichi swears he has whiplash. One second, Ouma’s grinning widely, and the next, tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill onto his cheeks.

“You’d hit me?” His voice is wobbly and small. “Amami-chan, help me! I’m being bullied!” Suddenly, tears are rolling down his face in fat drops, and he’s wailing like a tiny child. Shuuichi winces at the sudden noise.

Amami must have seen this before, because he’s hardly fazed. “Akamatsu-san, I think you should just take your turn. Ouma-kun is fine.”

Akamatsu blinks. “O-Oh, sure.” She smiles a little bit. “Um, I’m Akamatsu Kaede. I’m a big fan of Mioda Ibuki-san’s music, I don’t know how to ride a bike, and I really should have saved my foreign language class for next semester.”

Shuuichi tugs at his hat while he thinks. Akamatsu mentioned she was taking too many classes, and he’s not sure anyone would think of the bike thing unless it was true, so...

“You’re not a fan of Mioda-san, are you?” He feels his cheeks heat up. “Um, I mean--”

“Oooh, you got it right away!” Akamatsu smiles wide at him. “That means it’s your turn, Saihara-kun!” Everyone’s eyes move onto him all at once, and he tugs his hat lower. What to say...?

“I, um, I’m Saihara Shuuichi.” He swallows, collecting his thoughts. “I’m not a morning person, I don’t really like to watch movies, and I prefer manga to normal books.”

“Oh, is it the movie one?” A girl with long blue hair asks, smiling faintly.

Shuuichi shakes his head, his face burning. She looks vaguely disappointed, and he wants to crawl under the table and never come out.

“Saihara-chan likes normal books, right? Right?” Shuuichi glances up to see Ouma jumping up and down, no longer sitting on the table. “Saihara-chan’s the type of person who likes to read big, boring books!”

Shuuichi nods. “T-That’s right, Ouma-kun.” He ignores how the second part is basically an insult, and he doesn’t let himself think about how the blue haired girl sighs.

“My turn!” Ouma giggles. “I’m Ouma Kokichi, head of a secret organization of ten thousand people! I like panta the best out of anything edible, and I’m terrified of spiders!” He looks directly at Shuuichi, and Shuichi glances away, feeling anxious.

“Uh...” Akamatsu looks mildly amused. “There’s no way you’re actually a leader of a secret organization...”

“Who knows?” Ouma laughs, his head tilting back and eyes shutting in mirth. “I’m a liar, after all!” With that, he turns and opens the door to the room.

“Wait, Ouma-kun!” A boy with white hair and bright blue eyes tries to stop him, only to have the door shut in his face. Shuuichi can still hear Ouma laughing.

There’s a moment of silence, everyone a combination of confused and annoyed.

“Well, I guess I’ll go next, then.” Amami sighs. “I’m Amami Rantarou.”

--

By the time Shuuichi walks into his psychology class, he’s exhausted. Meeting everyone was fun, but there’s only so much social interaction he can handle before he gets overwhelmed. On top of that, he doesn’t have any time between the study period and his next class, so he still hasn’t had a bite to eat. He feels like his head is full of cotton and milk, not brains and thoughts. Shuuichi gives himself a little shake. He needs to just focus enough to get through this and world history, and he’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.

“Oh, wow!” Shuuichi jerks back in surprise at the noise. Ouma’s right in front of him, between Shuuichi and his seat. “I have a lot of classes with you, huh? I didn’t even notice last week!” Shuuichi suspects that last bit was a lie, but he doesn’t comment.

“Yeah, we do.” Shuuichi tugs his hat down. “Um, I need to sit down and get my stuff out...”

Ouma hops out of the way. “Of course, Saihara-chan! You’ll let me borrow your pen again, right? I didn’t have time to stop and get mine between classes.”

Shuuichi stares at him. Is he really...?

“Ah, but that’s a lie!” Ouma giggles, sliding into the seat next to Shuuichi’s. Shuuichi sits down, feeling awkward. He picks at his sleeves, looking down at the table. Why is Ouma following him around? What does he want?

“Saihara-kun?” Amami’s voice almost makes Shuuichi fall out of his seat, but he contains his surprise. He really should pay more attention to his surroundings if he keeps getting startled like this...

“Hello, Amami-kun.” Shuuichi smiles at him, even though he’s not really making eye contact.

“Is it alright if I sit here?” Amami gestures to the seat on Shuuichi’s other side, and Shuuichi nods. “I see you and Ouma-kun are getting along.”

Shuuichi’s brown furrows. What does that mean? “Ah, y-yeah... We have a lot of classes together.”

“Mmmhm!” Ouma leans forward, and Shuuichi leans back so that he can talk to Amami more easily. “Saihara-chan loves spending time with me!”

“T-That’s not...” Not true? Shuuichi isn’t sure how he feels about Ouma, to be honest. Thankfully, Amami seems unbothered.

“Don’t worry, Saihara-kun. I met Ouma-kun at orientation, so I’m already used to it.” Amami smiles at Shuuichi. “Anyway, I think we have world history together too, right after this?”

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah, we do.”

Amami smiles wider. “Great. We can stick together then.” He leans over, rustling around in his backpack, which reminds Shuuichi that he’s yet to get out his notes. He does that, pulling out the notebook he uses for psychology and world history.

“Hey, Saihara-chan. Saihara-chaaaaaan.” Ouma leans closer to Shuuichi. “Can I borrow that pen?”

“You already have one, don’t you?” Shuuichi remembers earlier quite well.

“No! I left that one somewhere and I can’t find it!” Ouma pouts. “Plus, I don’t have Kiiboy’s stuff with me anymore.”

Shuuichi glances down at the backpack and see that he’s being honest; it’s a completely different bag. Whereas Kiibo’s had been grey and pretty normal, this one is in a black and white checkboard pattern and seems to be quite beat up.

“That’s probably a good thing for Kiibo-kun.” Shuuichi hands Ouma a pen.

“Saihara-chan is the best!” He pauses. “Oh, that reminds me! What was Kiiboy’s lie in the game?”

“Huh?” Shuuichi tilts his head.

“In two truths and a lie!” Ouma huffs. “Jeez, Saihara-chan, aren’t you supposed to be a detective?”

Shuuichi blinks, then flushes. He never told Ouma about that, and he’s just an apprentice.

“He said that his favorite color was purple.” Amami waves his hand at Ouma’s plum colored hair. “I guess he was still annoyed at you for walking out.”

Ouma giggles. “Aw, Kiibaby missed me!” He flips the pen around his fingers, and Shuuichi watches, mesmerized, as the plastic pen spins around the thin, pale hand.

--

Shuuichi has to put all of his effort into not swaying while he walks back to the dorm. Amami is walking with him since they’re in the same building, and it’s not a long walk by any means. But still, it feels like the world is twisting underneath him, and his stomach is trying to eat holes in his ribcage. When they pass by the fountain, Shuuichi thinks he can hear the blood rushing in his ears louder than he can hear the water in the fountain. He wobbles, and Amami’s hand steadies him.

“Hey, Saihara-kun, are you okay?” His brow is furrowed slightly in concern.

“A-ah, yeah...” Shuuichi feels heat rise to his face. This is embarrassing. He should be able to have better control over himself. “I'm just really tired.”

Amami still looks concerned, but he relaxes somewhat. “Alright. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, okay?” Shuuichi nods, and Amami keeps his hand on his shoulder as they walk, preventing Shuuichi from stumbling at least twice. He only removes it to get his key card out of his pocket and unlock the door to Jackson Hall.

He holds the door open for Shuuichi. “Thank you, Amami-kun.” Shuuichi ducks inside, cheeks flushed.

“It's no problem.” Amami steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “Hey, maybe you should get something to eat before you head to bed? We've been in class or study hall since lunch time.”

Shuuichi freezes and tugs his hat down. “Thanks for the offer, but I'm not really hungry...” That's a total lie. Shuuichi's stomach is rebelling against him, bumping against his liver and lungs angrily, trying to escape so it can go to the dining hall and eat everything and more. “I think I'm just going to head straight to bed...”

Amami frowns slightly, then smiles again. “Alright. Goodnight, Saihara-kun.”

“Goodnight.” Shuuichi turns to the stairs and starts to walk up to the third floor, gripping the handrail carefully. He'll be fine. He can't really go to the dining hall and pick anything up without Amami noticing, but he's pretty sure he's still got some food in his dorm room, so he should be fine as long as Momota isn't back yet. The stairs feel longer than normal, but he's still at his room before he's even fully registered that he started heading that way. Blinking, Shuuichi unlocks the door. He really is out of it, huh?

Shuuichi tugs his shoes off and sets them by the door. Momota isn't home yet, judging by the silence in the room and the lack of his shoes. Shuuichi shuts the door, then just leans against it for a minute. Note to self: make sure to eat some breakfast or lunch if he skips dinner the night before. He's not sure he would have made it back to the dorm if it hadn't been for Amami.

Shuuichi walks silently into the kitchen/dining area of the room, which is really just a sink, two mini fridge-freezer units, two cabinets, and a microwave. Momota’s cabinet and mini fridge are covered in star and moon stickers.

Shuuichi opens his fridge and sighs in relief. He has some eggs, a head of broccoli, and a to-go container from the dining hall that probably has some rice in it. He doesn't need to go out for food.

Shuuichi takes the container and opens it, confirming there's actually rice inside. He thinks it's from Saturday, in which case it's still plenty good to eat. He puts it in the microwave and starts it, waiting anxiously beside it.

It's always hardest to eat when he hasn't in a while. The thought of making food, putting it in his mouth, chewing it, swallowing it.... it just feels like too much. He feels like it's a lot of effort to spend on himself, a lot more than he deserves. Shuuichi knows he has to eat, though. If he doesn't and passes out or something, it'll be a lot more work for the people around him. They don't deserve to deal with that just because Shuuichi gets a little anxious sometimes.

The microwave beeps, and Shuuichi takes his rice out. It’s not really a full meal, the sort of thing his uncle would chastise him for, but Shuuichi can’t bring himself to care right now. He grabs a pair of clean chopsticks from the sink and forces himself to sit down at the table and eat. A bowl of rice isn’t going to hurt him. Shuuichi chews a mouthful of rice, trying his best not to think about the fact that he doesn’t really deserve it, that he should be making less of himself, not more, that he’s embarrassing and a fraud and a waste of space and--

Shuuichi shakes his head. He needs to eat this. He counts down from 100 in his head, not letting himself think of anything else. The rice slowly disappears, even though Shuuichi feels like he’s not really in his body, like he’s not really real. He blinks, and the empty container is in the sink. When did he get up?

The door opens, and Shuuichi hears humming. “Hey, Saihara! I’m back from the hell that is college!”

He chuckles softly at Momota. “You’re still in college though.” He walks to the entrance of the kitchen, glad for the distraction from the full feeling in his stomach.

“Well, yeah, but.” Momota frowns. “Are you okay?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Yeah, why?” He’s not really, but he’ll probably be fine in a few minutes.

“You look exhausted, man.” Momota rubs his chin, then straightens up, excited. “Oh, I know! You should train with me!”

“Train...?” For what?

“Yeah, at the rec center! It always makes me more energetic.” Momota frowns. “Not tonight though. You look like you’re about to keel over, jeez. Did you even sleep last night?”

Shuuichi chuckles and looks away. “Do I look that bad...? I guess I’m pretty tired.” He is. He really, really just wants to lie down.

“Yeah, you should go to bed! I’m pretty beat too, so I’ll join you, even though it’s only...” He checks his watch. “Seven. Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever gone to bed this early before.”

Shuuichi blinks. He got back to the room at five... Where did those two hours go?

“You don’t have to go to sleep too, Momota-kun. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, so you won't keep me up.” Shuuichi fidgets with the edge of his hat.

“Alright, then! I guess I'll stay up a bit longer.” Momota smiles at him, and he heads into the bedroom portion of the dorm room, yawning. Shuuichi doesn't even bother to change before climbing under the covers.

Chapter 2: 9/6 - 9/15

Chapter Text

9/6

--

“Oh man, they have breakfast tacos today!! Saihara, you've gotta have one. Breakfast tacos are the best.” Momota tugs on Shuuichi's sleeve as they walk through the dining hall.

“I-I don't know, Momota-kun...” Shuuichi doesn't really want to deal with this right now. “I just want to go back to bed.” His head hurts, and he was up late last night studying, so he really wants to just bring some fruit and maybe rice up to his room and eat in peace. Shuuichi can't eat a breakfast taco. He knows he can't.

“Alright, whatever, but you should eat something before you go back to sleep. It doesn't have to be a taco.” Momota doesn't really seem all that bothered, thankfully. In fact, Shuuichi's pretty sure he cares a lot more about the tacos he just put on his tray than what Shuuichi eats. Thank goodness.

Shuuichi scoots over to a mostly empty part of the dining hall and puts eight strawberries on his plate, along with a piece of toast. He pauses. Should he get butter? Or jam? He doesn't really need it, though. What if he gets some on his fingers? Or his face? No, he shouldn't. In fact... Shuuichi grabs the toast with every intention to throw it into a nearby garbage can, when Akamatsu’s voice interrupts him.

“Saihara-kun? Is there something wrong with it?” She gestures to the bread, her brow furrowed.

“Ah,” Shuuichi swallows. “No, I just changed my mind...”

Akamatsu smiles. “Well, it'd be a shame to waste it, right? Here.” She takes it from him and sets it on her own plate, which already has four pieces of buttered toast. “I love bread.” She laughs softly.

Shuuichi smiles and tugs at his hat. “I didn't mean to be wasteful, sorry.”

Akamatsu laughs. “No, it's fine! No harm done. Plus, I mean, it's just one piece of toast.” She glances down, her gaze sticking on Shuuichi's plate. “Are you sure you don't want it though? Your plate is pretty empty.”

“I'm fine!” Shuuichi smiles a little more, tugs the brim of his hat down lower. “I don't usually eat breakfast, but Momota-kun drags me along.”

Akamatsu nods sympathetically. “Yeah, I keep doing that to Amami-kun... I just think it's a bad idea to go to class on an empty stomach, you know?” She starts walked back towards the tables. “Hey, you and Momota-kun should sit with us again!”

Shuuichi follows her. “Sure.” He glances around as they walk, trying to find Momota. Where is he? Shuuichi should ask for his phone number so that he can just text him at times like this. Thankfully, he spots Momota talking to Harukawa over by the drinks.

“Um, I'll go get Momota-kun and Harukawa-san! The same table as Tuesday, right?”

Akamatsu nods. “Yup! We'll be waiting!” She turns walks in the opposite direction of the drinks section, towards a mostly empty table. Shuuichi wipes his palm on his jeans and adjusts the brim of his hat. He walks over to the drink section, feeling way too nervous for just telling his friends that they've been invited to eat with someone. Thankfully, Harukawa spots him first, and she taps Momota on the shoulder. Waving, Momota calls out.

“Shuuichi! We were just looking for you!” Momota grins, and as soon as Shuuichi's close enough, he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Where were you?”

“I-I was getting something to eat, and I ran into Akamatsu-san. She asked me if we'd like to sit with her and Amami-kun again today.” Shuuichi looks down and to the side, his heart fluttering weakly. Not only is he nervous about socializing in general, but Momota just... called him Shuuichi????

“Oh, seriously? That's awesome!” Momota squeezes his shoulder, and Shuuichi looks up to see he's still smiling. “Harukawa, you're coming too, right?”

Harukawa nods. “I can.”

“It's decided, then!” Momota starts to walk forward, towards the table. He must have spotted Amami’s hair, because he's headed straight that direction. Shuuichi trails behind, and Harukawa walks with him. She doesn't say anything, but it's a comfortable sort of silence. Harukawa’s eyes are fixed on Momota's back, so Shuuichi steals a look at her plate. Today she's got eggs, two small pancakes, and some melon. Shuuichi rips his gaze away from it. There's no point in making himself hungry when he wouldn't even be able to eat it. Shuuichi sits down between Momota and Akamatsu, the plastic cold under his thighs.

--

Shuuichi follows Akamtasu and Toujou out of the classroom, his notebook tucked under his arm and his backpack slung over his shoulder. He has an hour until his next class, and they’re all going the same direction, so they’re walking together. Saihara is feeling okay, actually. His english professor is soft spoken and friendly, and neither Toujou nor Akamatsu make him particularly anxious, so keeps his head high, a smile on his lips.

“You look much happier than you did on Tuesday, Saihara-kun.” Toujou remarks, slowing down just enough so that she’s walking alongside Shuuichi inside of a few paces ahead of him.

“I do?” Shuuichi laughs nervously, surprised she noticed, even if it’s true. “I guess I’m finally adjusting to classes...”

“Mmm, Toujou-san is right!” Akamatsu’s walking on his other side now, smiling. “You do look a lot better. I hope you weren’t so tired earlier this week because Momota-kun was keeping you up late...”

Shuuichi chuckles. “Ah, no, he goes to bed pretty early. That reminds me, who’s your roommate?”

“Oh, it’s Harukawa-san. She’s very quiet.” Akamatsu laughs and rubs the back of her head. “I hardly see her to be completely honest with you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Toujou shakes her head. “She only really talks to you and Momota-kun, Saihara-kun.”

“Yeah, I noticed...” Shuuichi thinks that it’s more due to Momota’s merits than his own, but he doesn’t say as much. There’s a pause in the conversation, but not for long. Akamatsu brightens up and turns to them, like she’s got an idea.

“Oh, we should stop and go to the library together! How much time do you guys have before your next class? Mine’s in an hour and a half.”

“I have an hour.” Toujou plays with the edge of her bangs. “Can we use the library in Levity hall? I know it’s smaller, but it’s closer to my next class.”

“That’s fine with me!” Akamatsu glances over to Shuuichi, who remembers that he’s supposed to actually talk during conversations.

“My next class is in an hour too. Levity’s right next door, so that should be fine.” Shuuichi tugs at his hat a little, almost unconsciously. It’s cloudy outside, so it’s kind of ridiculous that he’s wearing it in the first place, but he feels naked without it.

“Sounds good to me! Hey, isn’t that Levity right there?” Akamatsu points to the stone grey cylindrical building approaching on their right.

Toujou nods. “The back of it, anyway. There’s only one entrance that student IDs open, and it’s on the other side.”

Akamatsu nods, and looks to Shuuichi. “Have you been in Levity yet? It’s really pretty.” She gestures to the building.

“Ah, no, I haven’t.” Shuuichi tugs at his hat. “The only dorm I’ve been in so far is Jackson...”

“You’ll like it! It’s like something out of a fantasy novel.” They round the corner and turn again immediately, headed for two glass doors into Levity hall. Shuuichi can see warm lighting inside.

“I’m finding it quite enjoyable, myself,” Toujou says as she holds the door open for Shuuichi and Akamatsu.

“Thank you, Toujou-san.” Shuuichi flashes a smile at her as he ducks inside. The entrance to Levity is open and bright, with dark red carpeting and golden fleur-de-lis on the walls. A chandelier hangs above their heads, and the counter up ahead is covered in flickering electric taper candles. An open entranceway to their left leads to a small library, and to their right, the Levity dining hall bustles with students. Shuuichi can see what he thinks is a fireplace in the back, but it’s probably not real. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla and woodsmoke inside.

“Wow...” Akamatsu glances around, hands on her hips. “Every time I come here, I wish I’d signed up for here instead of Jackson.”

Shuuichi nods, understanding that particular train of thought. He didn’t visit here when he was touring campus as a high schooler, and he’s really wondering why not. It’s beautiful.

“It is nice.” Toujou steps towards the library. “However, I’m already kind of sick of the community bathrooms.”

Akamatsu grimaces and follows her. “Yeah, I get that... Jackson’s rooms are bigger too, right?”

Toujou nods. “I assume that they had to have these rooms smaller to keep the prices down.”

Shuuichi is distracted when they walk into the library. For one things, it’s just as gorgeous as the rest of the building, but there’s also a familiar face inside.

“Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi watches Ouma turn to face them, a grinning splitting across his face.

“I didn’t expect to see Saihara-chan here! With Akamatsu-chan and Toujou-chan, no less!” Ouma has a book in his hands and Kiibo’s bag on his back.

“But Ouma-kun,” Akamatsu tilts her head. “Don’t you live in Jackson? Why don’t you just go to the main library?”

Ouma snickers. “This is where I meet my drug dealer, obviously. Jeez Akamatsu-chan, don’t you know anything?” His tone of voice isn’t right far a joke, more mocking, less light.

Akamatsu frowns. “I was just wondering...”

“Whatever! I’m leaving now that there’s a bunch of losers here.” Ouma skips past them, winking as he goes.

Akamatsu sighs as he walks out of the library and towards the exit. “Why is he like that?”

Toujou shakes her head. “He’s a mystery.” She starts walking again. “What did you have in mind for us to do in the library, Akamatsu-san?”

“Ah, I thought we could plan some stuff for tomorrow’s study period? So far all we’ve done is introduce ourselves and study alone, but that’s not really the point of having a group...” Akamatsu trails off, wringing her hands slightly.

“That sounds like a great idea, Akamatsu-san.” Shuuichi smiles at her, and she relaxes, smiling back. The three of them reach an empty table by a shelf of book, and they sit down at one end, Akamatsu and Toujou facing Shuuichi. He stares directly between them, so he doesn't have to make eye contact but he's not looking away, necessarily.

“We could figure out who’s in which classes and what they have trouble with.” Toujou puts a hand on her chin. “Then people could get help from those who find a subject easy.”

Akamatsu nods. “That'll help a lot! We should also look at the syllabi and make a calendar with all of the assignment due dates and tests.”

“I can do that.” Shuuichi makes a moment of eye contact with Akamatsu. “If you can help me with the girls in Charity Hall, I think I can get the rest of the syllabi, and I can get a poster board without any problem.”

“Thanks, Saihara-kun! You're so reliable!” Akamatsu grins, her eyes shining, and Shuuichi looks down, pulling his hat to shield his eyes from how bright she is.

“Why don't we use the whiteboard in the study room instead of a poster board?” Toujou asks, gesturing in the direction the whiteboard would be if they were in the study room. “We could mark off a calendar with tape and change the content with the month.”

Akamatsu nods. “That would work!”

“But what if someone had a test on the first or second of the month?” Shuuichi swallows, forcing himself to look at Toujou and speak clearly. “If we do it that way, we should keep two months up there.”

“I didn't think of that.” Toujou rubs the back of her head and smiles sheepishly.

Shuuichi laughs softly. “I-It’s alright. I can just make two.”

“Oh, you should get Angie-san to help you!” Akamatsu clasps her hands together, excited. “She's really good at that kind of thing.”

“She's an art major, right?” Shuuichi remembers her from the group, but he doesn't have any classes with her so he's not sure.

Akamatsu nods. “Mmhm! Here, I'll text her now.” She looks down and fiddles with her phone.

Toujou taps the table softly, and Shuuichi's gaze snaps over to her. “Akamatsu-san and I can get most of the girls’ syllabi, and I can get Hoshi-kun and Gokuhara-kun’s, but could you get Harukawa-san’s and the rest of the boys’?”

Shuuichi nods. “I think I have all of them in at least one class, in addition to the study group.”

Toujou smiles and nods. “Good.”

“I texted her! She said she'd love to help, Saihara-kun.” Akamatsu smiles at him.

“Thanks, Akamatsu-san.” Shuuichi reaches for his hat, his cheeks a little warm, but Akamatsu stretches across the table and pulls it off his head.

“H-Hey!!” Shuuichi reaches for it, but Akamatsu holds it out of reach.

“Sorry, Saihara-kun, but you really shouldn't hide your face like that!” She sets the hat on the table in front of him, smiling softly. “You don't need to be so shy, okay? You're smart and reliable, so you've got nothing to cover up.”

Shuuichi blinks and swallows, his face red and burning. Smart? Reliable? Shuuichi starts to shake his head, his pulse apping a frantic rhythm against the skin of his throat.

“She's right, Saihara-kun.” Toujou sounds almost amused. “And you look quite dashing without it, I'd say.”

Shuuichi buries his face in his hands, makes a very unmanly noise, and takes a moment to collect himself before he reaches for his hat, shoving it on his head and hiding his face with it.

“I'll think about it, Akamatsu-san... but I really need to go now.” Shuuichi doesn't look at her face or wait for an answer before he all but runs out of the library.

--

9/8

--

“You’re not wearing your hat?” Momota tilts his head at him.

Shuuichi plays with the edge of his sleeve. “Ah, no...”

Momota claps a hand on his shoulder and beams. “Good! You look a lot manlier without it.”

“W-What is that supposed to mean?” Shuuichi doesn’t get an answer. Instead, Momota opens the door to the hallway and shoves him out.

“Don’t think about it! I’m way too hungry to stand here and talk.” Momota marches ahead, towards the stairs. “We should hurry up and get something to eat.”

Shuuichi sighs and follows after him. “It’s Saturday, though. We don’t need to hurry.” He steps onto the stairs right behind Momota, already resigned to his fate.

“Of course we do! If we wait long enough, it’ll be lunchtime and they’ll put up the breakfast tacos!”

“Momota-kun...” Shuuichi sighs, picking up his pace so he doesn’t fall behind. “They might not even have them today...”

“Don’t crush my dream, Shuuichi!” Momota suddenly stops, and Shuuichi nearly runs into him. “Oh. Hey.”

Shuuichi tries to look around Momota to see what’s going on, but to no avail. Momota seems disgruntled, though, so it’s probably not anyone they’re meeting for breakfast.

“Momota-chan! Do you have Saihara-chan with you? I’m looking for him!” Ah. That voice is definitely Ouma.

“Why?” Momota shifts so that it’s even harder for Shuuichi to try and look around him in the narrow stairway. “What do you want with Shuuichi?”

“To kill him, obviously!” Ouma snickers. “That’s a lie, duh. It’s none of your business, Momota-chan.”

Momota makes an offended noise, but before he can say anything else, Shuuichi decides it’s time for him to intervene. He reaches out and pushes Momota to the side, standing on tiptoes so he can see over the taller boy’s shoulders. Ouma is at the entrance to the staircase, Kiibo’s bag in hand.

“Oh, hey, Saihara-chan!” Ouma waves like Shuuichi isn’t precariously balanced on a stair and leaning on his very angry friend’s shoulder. “I see you ditched your emo hat!”

“What?” Shuuichi frowns, then drops back down. Momota sighs and shifts, so Shuuichi can see Ouma.

“Your hat! It made you look like a emo baby.” Ouma grins at him.

Momota groans and steps out of the stairway, and Shuuichi follows him, standing near Ouma, who doesn’t take a step back even though it puts them uncomfortably close to each other.

“What did you need from me, Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi glances at Ouma, but doesn’t see anything obvious that he could need help with...

Ouma sticks his hand into his pocket and pulls out Shuuichi’s pen. “You forgot to take this back from me! I used it to draw a mustache on Kiibaby, so if he sees me with it he’ll know what I did.”

Shuuichi takes the pen, frowning. “Couldn’t you have used any pen to do that...?”

“Nope!” Ouma takes a few steps backwards, hands behind his head. “I only use purple pens, Saihara-chan!” He spins on his heels and walks towards the exit of the dorm hall, watching Shuuichi over his shoulder and waving. “See you tomorrow, Saihara-chan! Don’t forget about our date!”

“Date?!” Momota turns to Shuuichi. “Why was I not told about this?! What the hell, Shuuichi.”

Shuuichi holds his hands up. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Momota-kun! We don’t have anything planned.” Shuuichi feels his cheeks warm and his breathing pick up.

Momota sighs. “Ouma is trouble.” He looks at Shuuichi, who is currently desperately wishing for his hat. “Hey, don’t give me that look. I believe you over that lying snake.”

Shuuichi chuckles shakily. “Breakfast, then?”

Momota brightens up. “Now you’re speaking my language!”

--

9/9

--

Shuuichi is not having a particularly good day so far. Momota woke him up at seven in the morning, and he didn’t even get out of bed. His head feels like he spent the night getting hit repeatedly with a baseball bat, not sleeping in bed, and he’s so tired, the kind of tired that pulls at his limbs, heavy heavy chains burying deeper in his bed. Shuuichi drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, scrubbing at his eyes as he stumbles into the room.

He flicks on the lights and winces at his face. No wonder Momota let him stay in this morning. He looks like he was up all night partying, which especially impressive since he went to sleep at like... six? Really early. Maybe he’s getting sick? It’s certainly a possibility with the way his throat feels rubbed raw and dry, but that could just be because he’s dehydrated. Shuuichi turns on the tap and splashes his face with cold water, trying to wake up. Icy droplets cling to his cheeks and his eyelashes. He sneezes, then wipes his face and the mirror dry. Going back to bed probably isn’t a great idea, even though he’s exhausted. He should probably go find Momota and Harukawa in the dining hall, but... he has the dorm room to himself.

Shuuichi kneels down, opens the cabinet beneath the sink, and pulls the first three towels out and onto the floor, revealing the smooth glass surface of a bathroom scale. He carefully, gently sets it onto the tile beside him, then straightens up. He tugs his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair, and pulls his sweatpants off. Shivering in just his boxers, Shuuichi steps onto the scale.

He counts to ten with his eyes shut, then looks down. 125.6 pounds. He’s lost weight. Something bubbly and multi colored swirls in his chest as he tugs his pants back on, grateful for the warmth. Shuuichi isn’t really sure if he should be happy about this, but he’s smiling anyway as he puts his shirt back on and tucks the scale back into its hiding place. His earlier bad mood feels like it’s dissipated, even though he’s still exhausted. He knows he shouldn’t be this happy, especially since he’s not really trying to lose weight in the first place, but it still feels good.

Smiling, he slides on his shoes. If he hurries, he can find Momota before he's done eating and make up for not hanging out with him this morning. Maybe he'll even eat something? Shuuichi's stomach flips, but whether it's from anxiety at the thought of ruining his progress or hunger, he's not sure. He opens the door to the hall and locks it behind him, shivering. The air conditioning in the dorms is way too intense. Maybe if he asked nicely enough, Iruma would change it for him? No, they haven't talked very much. Shuuichi would feel too demanding.

His mind flickers back to the scale and the cold water from the sink and 125.6. Since he's losing weight, maybe he should put effort into keeping it up? He's already working out with Momota every night, but maybe he should start writing down what he eats? His uncle would be so upset if he figured out what Shuuichi was doing. He always made sure Shuuichi ate enough to stay the same, roughly, even harassing him and cooking for him after long days at work. Shuuichi appreciated it, but eating makes him so anxious. Maybe it's for the best that he doesn't.

Shuuichi shakes his head as he steps off of the staircase and into the entrance area. No, he has to eat something. He tried not eating anything last week, and it ended poorly. Shuuichi steps into the dining hall, food and weight and cold water spinning in his head. He really needs to do some research.

He makes a beeline for Momota, spotting his hair right away. Both he and Harukawa are still eating, with Amami texting at the same table but not right next to them. Shuuichi waves, and Momota perks up when he spots him.

“Hey! It's sleeping beauty!” Momota nudges Harukawa with his shoulder. She scowls, but her face relaxes when she sees Shuuichi.

“Are you feeling better, Saihara?” She studies his face, and Shuuichi looks off to the side.

“Yeah, I am.” He sits down in his usual spot to Momota's right. “Sorry that I didn't come down with you earlier.”

“Hey, don't worry about it! I was worried you were sick.” Momota gives him a concerned look. “You're not, right? No offense, but you still kinda look like sh*t.”

Shuuichi shrugs sheepishly. “I think I'm okay...” He trails off.

“Hey, Saihara-kun.” Amami waves at him. “You missed Akamatsu-san. She's hanging out with Toujou-san today, I think. I just texted her and told her you're up. She'll be glad to know you're okay.”

Momota laughs. “Yeah, she was interrogating me! Got yourself a girlfriend, Shuuichi?”

Shuuichi splutters, his cheeks warm. “W-What? No! Akamatsu-san and I are just friends!”

Momota cackles. “I'm just teasing! Still, you two would be a cute couple.”

Amami laughs. “You are Harukawa-san are cuter.” He winks at Harukawa, who stands up and glares daggers at him.

“Do you want to die?” The way she's holding her knife is threatening, even though it's plastic. Amami holds both hands up, looking a combination of terrified and highly amused.

“Just joking!” He laughs nervously as Harukawa sits back down. “That was a little scary.”

Shuuichi nods in agreement. “I don't think you're supposed to kill anyone on campus, Harukawa-san.”

“Yeah, Harumaki, they'd kick you out for that!”

Harukawa's glare shifts to Momota. “Harumaki? Harumaki?!”

Momota leans into Shuuichi, away from Harukawa and her plastic knife. “Save me, Saihara!”

--

9/10

--

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail this class.” Amami groans as he sits down next to Shuuichi, slumping over to rest his head on the table. “I keep spacing out during the lectures and not taking any notes. It’s awful.”

Shuuichi frowns. “You could borrow my notes? If that would help, I mean.”

Amami smiles. “You’re so nice, you know that?” He sits up, yawning. “Can I see them in study period Wednesday?”

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah, that’ll work for me.” He leans over, pulling his notebook and pen out of his backpack, setting them on the table.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Amami picks up his pencil and leans over, scrawling something on Shuuichi’s notes. “You don’t have anyone’s number, right? Here’s mine. If you text me after history, I can send you everyone that I have.”

“T-Thanks, Amami-kun.” Shuuichi’s a bit startled, but he still smiles. “I’ve been meaning to ask people for them, but...” He trails off, because it’s kind of nervous to say that he was too anxious. What is he, a scared kid? He just chuckles, but it sounds weak.

“I get it.” Amami gives him a sympathetic look. “Y’know, you can--”

“Hey, Saihara-chan! Are you and Amami-chan dating now?” Ouma plops down beside Shuuichi and proceeds to not only interrupt Amami, but also lean forward so that he and Shuuichi are almost touching, Ouma’s arm resting on top of Shuuichi’s notebook. He looks down, then grins. “Ohhhh, you got his digits? Wow, next thing you know, you two will be married!”

“Can it, Ouma.” Amami scowls and leans back, crossing his arms.

“Oh no, did I make Amami-chan sad?” Ouma’s tearing up, of course, but Shuuichi knows it’s not genuine so he pretends it’s just not happening in the first place.

“Ouma-kun, did you remember to bring your syllabus?” Shuuichi glances between Ouma and Amami. “I think I’ve seen syllabi for all of your classes except for political science and chemistry.”

Ouma stops crying, and gives Shuuichi a very confused look. “But... I’m not taking political science...” He looks genuinely disappointed, and Shuuichi feels his heart drop into his shoes.

“O-Ouma-kun, I...” Wait a second. “...that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

Ouma brightens up, cackling. “Yup! Wow, Saihara-chan, you’re good at this! Maybe I should make you my underling.” He pauses. “Or kill you!”

“Hey, now...” Amami is frowning. “Isn’t that a little much?”

“Well, Amami-chan, I could be lying about killing him! Or not.” Ouma waggles his eyebrows. “I’m sure Saihara-chan will find out eventually.”

Shuuichi sighs. “Do you have the syllabi, or not?”

Ouma pouts. “You're no fun.” He pulls the syllabi out of Kiibo’s bag and drops them on the table. “Can I borrow a pen?”

Shuuichi massages his temple, a fresh headache forming. “Didn't I give you one in criminal science?” He was in a good mood when he got to this class...

Ouma looks down. “I left it in my bag, and I didn't grab it when I took Kiibo's.”

“I don't have another one to give you though...” Shuuichi knows he shouldn't, but he feels kinda guilty. Ouma's hurt look is obviously fake, but Shuuichi's mouth is still dry and his hands are still shaking. He swallows and tucks his hands under the table.

For just a second, Ouma's mask falters, and he just looks confused, maybe concerned. Before Shuuichi can process it, Ouma's laughing again and pulling a pen out of his pocket.

“Saihara-chan is too easy!” Ouma leans over and fills in the check box by his name on Shuuichi's list of syllabi to get. Shuuichi squeezes his eyes shut for a second and takes a breath. Obviously, Ouma wasn't actually upset. There's no reason for Shuuichi to be upset. He opens his eyes at stares at theviolet ink.

“You good?” Amami's voice is barely even a whisper, probably so Ouma doesn't hear and make a rude comment. Shuuichi nods, and Amami sighs quietly.

--

Amami (5:17 p.m.): hey shyhara

Saihara (5:17 p.m.): shyhara?

Amami (5:17 p.m.): ye

Amami (5:18 p.m.): i’m gonna send you those numbers with the contact sync thing

Saihara (5:18 p.m.): oh! thanks, amami-kun

Amami (5:18 p.m.): no prob

Amami (5:21 p.m.): done

Amami (5:21 p.m.): hey saihara-kun

Saihara (5:22 p.m.): yeah?

Amami (5:22 p.m.): are you okay? you seemed upset in psych + you were really quiet in world history. shinguuji-kun noticed too and asked me to tell you he hopes you feel better soon

Saihara (5:23 p.m.): i’m fine!! thanks to the both of you anyway

Amami (5:24 p.m.): just like

Amami (5:24 p.m.): if you ever need to talk, i’m here

Amami (5:24 p.m.): akamatsu-san too, for sure. and there’s momota-kun as well.

Saihara (5:26 p.m.): i’m really fine, though

Amami (5:26 p.m.): the offer stands in case you ever aren’t

--

9/12

--

“Wow, that looks amazing, Angie san!” Shirogane runs her finger along the multicolored tape. “Did you really make it yourself?”

Angie smiles and her eyes slide shut. She brings her hands up, clasped together. “Me and Atua worked very hard on it. It’s all thanks to him that these beautiful calendars were made.”

Akamatsu rolls her eyes, but there’s no anger in it. “Saihara-kun actually made the tape into calendars, though.”

“It’s fine,” Shuuichi laughs lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyone could have done that. The tape is really pretty, Angie-san.”

Angie looks at him with that peaceful smile. “I made it look like flowers and bird because that’s what Atua told me to do! And it’s red and gold because those are the school colors, of course.”

“Does Atua have school spirit, Angie-chan?” Ouma leans forward, effectively inserting himself into the conversation. “Does he show up to sports games? Does he oggle the cheerleaders?”

“Atua is into whatever you need him to be into, Kokichi!” Angie sways side to side. “If you need Atua to be into sports for you to have faith, then he’s into sports!”

Ouma snorts, and Akamatsu elbows him. “It really is pretty, Angie-san. You must and Saihara-kun must have worked really hard.”

Shuuichi feels his face heat up a little. “It wasn’t that bad once I had all of the syllabi. Oh, I took pictures, so everyone who gave me one can have it back now.” He gestures to the pile of papers on the table. “Not all of them have names on them, though...”

“Kiibaby, you should get mine for me!” Ouma prances over to Kiibo and leans on him, nearly knocking him over. “I don’t wanna look through all of the papers!”

Kiibo rolls his eyes. “Why should I get it for you, Ouma-kun? You’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.”

“But I don’t wanna.” Ouma whines, and his eyes start to tear up. Shuuichi takes that as his cue to stop watching their conversation and find Momota and Harukawa. They’re over by the window, talking. Shuuichi walks around the perimeter of the room so he’s standing by them.

“Hey, Shuuichi!” Momota grins at him. “What’s up?”

Shuuichi smiles. “Everyone was just checking out the calendars.” He glances at Harukawa and Momota before fixing his gaze safely on a piece of wall.

“They’re awesome! You guys did a really good job on it.” Momota is beaming. “Oh, Shuuichi, guess what?”

“What?” Shuuichi looks up, curious.

“Harumaki agreed to train with us tonight!” Momota’s grin widens, which probably shouldn’t be possible.

“I didn’t agree, I just gave up.” Harukawa cross her arms and looks out the window. “He wouldn’t leave me alone until I said I would go.”

“That counts as agreement, though!” Momota laughs, and Shuuichi finds himself laughing too.

--

9/15

--

“Saihara-chan?” Ouma’s voice is faint and far away, in another world. Shuuichi shifts, moving further away. He doesn’t want to talk to Ouma. “Hey, Saihara-chan. Someone’s trying to take your stuff.”

Shuuichi blinks and sits up, looking around wildly, suddenly awake. There’s nobody but him and Ouma, and his head is spinning and aching. He slumps back onto the library table, wishing more than anything that he was just asleep again. Of course Ouma was lying. Ouma’s always lying.

“Ah, so Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!” Ouma pokes his nose with one finger, and Shuuichi jerks back. “I thought you were dead when I found you! You didn’t move at all!” Ouma is grinning, sitting on the table in front of where Shuuichi had been resting his head for just a moment. Or sleeping, apparently. His head is full of cotton candy and English. He’s been trying to read their assigned reading, but... that cleary did not pan out.

“Sorry, I just dozed off...” Shuuichi rubs his eyes and resists the urge to yawn.

“Y’know, I could have totally killed you in your sleep.” Ouma puts a hand on Shuuichi’s head, patting him like he’s a well-behaved dog. “You should really be more careful about where you fall asleep, Saihara-chan.” Ouma hops off of the table, standing at the end with his hands on his hips, looking pleased with himself for some indiscernible reason.

Shuuichi frowns. He’s not sure how he feels about the fact that Ouma even thought about killing him in his sleep, but he doubts he was being serious. Either way, he’s right.

“I’m going to go back to my room, I think. I’m not going to get a lot of studying done like this.” Shuuichi stands up, and everything twists. The air around him becomes thick and black and heavy, molasses in his lungs. His heart sputters out sparks, and his throat chokes on the smoke. His head fills with ashes, and he lurches to the side. Everything is fuzzy and off-color and Shuuichi’s head is pounding with his heartbeat, a bass drum marching through smoky cloudy thoughts. He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that it just goes away.

“Saihara-chan?” Ouma sounds upset, frantic. Shuuichi opens his eyes and realizes that Ouma has one hand on each of his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes are wide, his mouth flat and unsmiling.

“Sorry,” Shuuichi’s voice is garbled, slightly. “I just got a headrush.” He pulls away from Ouma, the last tendrils of smoke snaking out of his vision and his heart returning to its normal volume. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me, Saihara-chan!” Ouma’s face suddenly splits into a grin. “I think I’m going to go back to my room, too! I wanna switch Kiibaby’s toothpaste with glue.”

Shuuichi frowns and picks up his backpack, shoving the book into it. He ignores how his hands are shaking. “That’s really mean, Ouma-kun.”

“Don’t be such a granny, Saihara-chan!” Ouma giggles. “The look on his face is gonna be so worth it!”

Shuuichi rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling a little. “Don’t be too mean to Kiibo-kun. It’s not his fault you’re his roommate.”

Ouma just laughs louder as they walk out of the library. He doesn’t mention the way Shuuichi sways and wobbles on the walk back to Jackson Hall, and Shuuichi doesn’t mention the way Ouma almost steadies him every time.

Chapter 3: 9/17 - 9/28

Chapter Text

9/17

--

“We should play a game. Studying’s a pain.” Yumeno isn’t really studying anymore anyway, but Shuuichi can’t help but think she’s right. Study period is helpful and all, but sometimes he just wants to do something else with the hour.

“I agree!” Chabashira stands up. “Yumeno-san, that’s an excellent idea!”

“What kind of game?” Akamatsu tilts her head, looking up from her textbook.

“Hmm...” Amami rubs his chin. “I don't think we should do two truths and a lie again.”

Akamatsu laughs. “Definitely not.”

“Well, I think we should play cards.” Yumeno yawns. “Like go fish.”

Chabashira nods. “Yes! I agree!”

“Of course you do.” Iruma groans, rolling over where she's lying on the floor. “That's such a kiddie game.”

“Hey, don't be mean to Yumeno-san!” Chabashira stands up, almost knocking her chair over. “Cards is a great idea!”

“Uh, do we even have cards...?” Shuuichi suddenly regrets his decision to talk, since now everyone's looking straight at him. “I mean... It's a good idea, but I don't think there's any cards in here.”

Yumeno frowns. “I don't have enough MP to summon mine right now.” She sighs. “I guess we can just keep studying.”

“Uh, no thanks, midget. We should play ‘never have I ever.’” Iruma sits up and runs a hand through her hair. “It'll be fun if nobody's a prude about it.”

“Uh.” Akamatsu looks conflicted. “Iruma-san, you shouldn't call Yumeno-san that. But...”

“It's a good idea.” Hoshi finishes for her. “It'd be a good way of getting to know each other, and it doesn't require any extra supplies.”

Iruma cackles. “See? I told you guys I'm a genius.”

Yumeno sighs. “I guess we could play...”

“Alright!” Iruma grins at her. “I'm starting.”

“W-wait, Gonta does not know how to play!” Gokuhara is frowning and looking at the ground.

Ouma giggles. “Aw, Gokuhara-chan, it's easy! Here, I’ll help you!” Ouma prances over to where Gonta’s standing and leans against the wall.

“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be doing a lot of helping...” Momota covers his mouth as he talks so only Shuuichi and Harukawa can hear him. Harukawa just nods, her face blank but calm, and Shuuichi smiles at Momota.

“So who wants to start?” Hoshi leans back in his chair.

Chabashira perks up immediately. “Iruma-san, obviously! This.... dirty game was her idea, after all.”

“It’s only dirty if you ask about dirty things...” Akamatsu rubs her forehead. “Guys...”

“Alright, bitch, I’ll go first then.” Iruma points a finger at Chabashira from where she sits on the floor. “Never have I ever drank alcohol.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Harukawa mutters.

Shuuichi glances between them. Iruma doesn’t seem to have heard, but... “Iruma-san, we’re all under the drinking age, so none of us have--”

“Speak for yourself.” Shuuichi glances back at Harukawa incredulously, seeing that she has one finger held up. He looks around the room and sees that everyone except for Gokuhara, Angie, Chabashira, and himself have one finger up.

“Wow. I expected Gokuhara-chan, but Chabashira-chan? Angie-chan?” Ouma puts the hand he’s not using for the game behind his head and giggles.

“I-I don’t want to distract myself from Aikido!” Chabashira’s face is red. “You menace.”

Anige pats her shoulder. “It’s okay, Tenko! I haven’t had alcohol because Atua’s love is the only drug I need.”

“I’ll go next.” Hoshi glances around the room. “Never have I ever slept in a bunk bed.” He smiles slightly, and Shuuichi looks around the room. Angie, Chabashira, Yumeno, Akamatsu, Amami, Shinguuji, and Harukawa put fingers up.

“No siblings, Shuuichi?” Momota nudges him. “Me neither.”

Amami sighs. “I'm gonna lose if this keeps up... Never have I ever had pineapple on pizza.”

“What?!” Momota stares at him incredulously. “How on earth did you manage that?”

Amami shrugs, smiling a little because everyone but Gokuhara just put a finger up. “One of my sisters is allergic.”

“I'm going now.” Everyone looks at Harukawa, and several people look kind of scared. “Never have I ever ridden a bike.” Everyone puts a finger up, Gokuhara included.

“Wow, really?” Amami's eyebrows go up.

Harukawa folds her arms across her chest, looking pleased with herself. “Bikes are unnecessary when cars are available, and running can be faster on a crowded street.”

“I mean....” Amami says. “I guess?” He chuckles lightly.

“My turn!” Momota grins. “Never have I ever boiled water.”

“You...” Toujou stares at him. “How?”

Momota throws his shoulders back, puffing out his chest. “I just haven't!”

“Can you cook anything?” Toujou says, rubbing her forehead.

“Yeah, I can! I can cook a few things, but I've always gotten someone else to boil the water for me, I think.”

Hoshi narrows his eyes. “Somehow, I think you just have a selective memory right now.”

“Excuse me,” Shinguuji uses his free hand to tuck some hair behind his ear. “Are we playing to five, or ten?”

“Five.” Harukawa says, not waiifor anyone else to answer.

“Oh, well, I'm out then!” Akamatsu smiles and drops her hand. “You too, Yumeno-san and Shinguuji-kun?”

“It seems so.” Shinguuji puts his hand down.

“Isn't it weird that those three are out first?” Shirogane says, lifting a finger in front of her face, head tilted.

Akamatsu laughs. “Yeah, it's kinda--”

“It's cause we're doing entry level sh*t!” Iruma flips her hair dramatically.

“It's because the only person willing to say something dirty has already done everything, Iruma-chan!” Ouma giggles and pushes himself off of the wall, taking a few steps closer to the center of the room. “Never have I ever sucked a dick.”

“Ouma-kun, be polite.” Toujou says at the same time Momota snorts.

Shuuichi looks over to him, and he waggles his eyebrows at Shuuichi. “That's definitely a lie, bro.”

Shuuichi wishes he hasn't asked. He looks around to see who's put a finger up. Iruma, Amami, Shirogane, and.... Momota and Harukawa.

Harukawa is glaring at Momota like she wants to skin him alive. “You what.”

Momota holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It was in high school!”

“Well, looks like Shirogane-san, Harukawa-san, and I are out.” Amami chuckles and rubs the back of his head. “Harukawa-san, please don't kill Momota-kun. We all did some stupid stuff in high school.”

“Yeah, and you've sucked dick too, Harukawa-chan! I wonder why Momota-chan isn't mad about that, hmm?” Ouma snickers, not even looking mildly scared when Harukawa starts walking towards him.

“Y’know what?!” Akamatsu’s voice is high pitched, nervous. “Why don't we call it a day? Gokuhara-kun wins, everyone goes home alive.”

Harukawa mutters something that only Ouma can hear, and he tips his head back and laughs.

“Oh, I'd love to see you try.” He stretches, still smiling. “I guess we're done then! Aren't you glad I helped you, Gokuhara-chan? You won!”

“Gonta won?” Gokuhara looks both incredibly pleased and mildly confused, which is enough to make Shuuichi smile despite the tension. Momota sighs beside him, then puts his hands on his shoulder.

“Let's go,” he says. “Harumaki’s gonna kill Ouma and I don't wanna see that.”

Shuuichi laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, me neither...” He glances at Harukawa, who didn't hear them, thankfully.

They join the others filing out of the room.

--

9/22

--

Shuuichi leans his head against the wall of the library and sighs. It's not that he doesn't have anything to do; he just doesn't want to do it. He massages his temple with the hand that isn't pressed between the armchair and the wall, willing his headache to go away. There's absolutely no good reason for him to feel like this; he got plenty of sleep last night, didn’t he? He sighs again, letting his eyes slide shut. Today everything is foggy and far away, like Shuuichi’s watching the world through dirty glasses. Even with his eyes shut, it feels like he’s spinning slowly, drifting away.

Something pokes his shoulder. “Saihara-chan?” It’s Ouma, of course, his voice unusually quiet. Shuuichi opens one eye and sees Ouma’s voice immediately split into a grin. “Ah, so you’re awake!”

“What do you want, Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi pulls himself away from the wall and rubs where his cheek was leaning against it. It felt like he’d only been leaning there a second, but the library is noticeably more full than it had been when his eyes were last open.

“Aw, Saihara-chan’s grumpy today!” Ouma sits on the table next to the chair and looks at his nails. “I’m going to a cafe, and you’re coming with me.”

“I’m what?” Shuuichi blinks.

“You heard me!” Ouma bounces off of the table and grabs Shuuichi’s arm, his hand sliding down so that he’s dragging Shuuichi out of the chair by his hand. “We’re going to get coffee together.”

“Are you lying...?” Shuuichi stands up, hoping that Ouma is so that he can just go back to his dorm and sleep.

“Yeah! Actually, you’re going to help me hide a body.” Ouma starts to walk out of the library, still holding Shuuichi’s hand. His grip is surprisingly warm, and maybe that’s why Shuuichi lets Ouma drag him along. Neither of them say anything as they walk past the front desk and into the entryway, then out into the sunlight. It’s a nice day, sunny and cool, and the breeze kicks up a few leaves at Shuuichi’s feet. He finds himself looking down as Ouma drags him along the sidewalk towards the tall building that houses the food service classes.

“Are we actually going to the cafe?” Shuuichi blinks, realizing that Ouma was being serious.

“You’re kinda slow today, Saihara-chan. Stay up late last night getting frisky with Momota-chan?” Ouma doesn’t glance back at him, still tugging at his hand.

“W-What?!” Shuuichi shakes his head violently. “Momota-kun and I aren’t--”

Ouma cackles. “Oh, I know!” He pauses to open the door of the building, which is fairly empty. “Saihara-chan is a pure, innocent virgin, after all.”

“I’m...” Shuuichi shakes his head. “Have you been to the cafe here before?” Shuuichi hasn’t, but he’s heard it’s good.

“Nope!” Ouma slows down, walking side by side with Shuuichi now. He looks up at him and smiles. Shuuichi isn’t even sure why he asked; Ouma could be lying. Or not.

“Me neither.” Shuuichi pushes the door to the cafe open and glances down, realizing his hand is still in Ouma’s. He pulls his gaze back up and looks around the cafe instead; it’s neat and well decorated, with a door leading to an outdoor patio overlooking the herb garden by the building. The sun hits the leaves and flowers just right, and they glow emerald and aquamarine and peridot, the flowers flecks of gold and violet. He keeps staring at them even as Ouma leads him to the counter.

“What can I get you two?” Shuuichi looks away from the garden to the girl at the counter. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s smiling at them, the edges of her eyes crinkled slightly. Her nametag is backwards, probably by accident.

“I’ll have cream soda and a chocolate croissant!” Ouma elbows Shuuichi, then looks up at him.

“Um, I’ll have seltzer water,” Shuuichi says, not looking at the girl’s eyes. She nods and enters their order into the machine.

“That’ll be five dollars and seventy-six cents.”

Ouma pats his pocket, then frowns. “Oh, no. Saihara-chan, I forgot my wallet!” He looks up at Shuuichi, tearing beading in the corners of his eyes.

Shuuichi stares at him for a second, then sighs. “I’ll get it. He takes his wallet out of his jean pocket and hands the girl his student card, which she swipes and hands back to him.

“One sec, I’ll just get your stuff.” She turns and rustles behind the counter, and Shuuichi gives Ouma a look.

“Forgot your wallet?” Shuuichi highly doubts that.

“I really did!” Ouma pouts. “Why are you so mean to me, Saihara-chan?”

“I'm really not.” Shuuichi sighs and takes the water from the girl. “Thanks.”

She smiles and nods. “Have a nice date!”

“Aww, thanks!” Ouma winks at her. “We will!”

Shuuichi feels heat rush to his cheeks as Ouma carries his food and drink over to the patio door. He follows him, wishing more than anything he had his hat to cover his face with.

“O-Ouma-kun, what was that?” He covers his mouth with his free hand, trying to stop blushing (and failing to actually do so).

“What, you don't wanna be on a date with me?” Ouma turns around and pushes the door open by walking into it. “How mean!”

“That's not what I meant! We're not on a date,” Shuuichi swallows. “Right?”

“I don't know, are we?” Ouma moves away from the door as Shuuichi walk through, prancing over to the table closest to the garden. He sets his croissant and drink down on the table, then sits down, grinning at Shuuichi. Shuuichi takes a seat, trying not to look at Ouma and focusing instead on keeping his breathing steady.

“I'm not sure it counts as a date if you didn't tell me it was one beforehand.” Shuuichi tries to open his water, but his hands are shaking and sweaty. He stares at the bottle and at his hands, feeling his heart jump up into his throat and his lungs tighten. He can't deal with this, not right now, not today, he doesn't know why but--

Ouma takes the bottle from him and opens it, handing it back to him with the cap loose on top. “Relax, Saihara-chan.” His voice is soft, low. Shuuichi buries his head in his hands.

“M’sorry.” He's vaguely aware of the fact that it's probably incredibly obvious to Ouma that he's not really doing great right now, but he mostly just feels hot, burning embarrassment crawling up the inside of his ribs and taking a bite out of his insides. He tries to take a deep breath, but he just makes a sort of choked noise and gives up.

Shuuichi feels a warm hand on his wrists, gently pulling his hands off of his face. Ouma looks completely blank as he carefully takes Shuuichi's hands in his. Shuuichi can see his eyes moving over his face, and he looks away, not wanting to have to watch as Ouma stares at him.

“Breathe, Saihara-chan. It’s okay.” Ouma's thumbs rub the backs of his hands, and Shuuichi draws in a shaky breath. He doesn't ask what Ouma's doing because he keeps wondering why. Why did Ouma take him here? Why did he say it was a date? Why did he choose today, when it was obvious Shuuichi was a little off?

He breathes slowly for a few minutes, Ouma's hands still holding his, then he pulls away. He looks Ouma in the eyes.

“Sorry about that. I'm okay now.” His voice is still shaky, but not a lot.

Ouma's face breaks into a grin. “I wasn't worried! But,” he pauses, almost as if thinking over his words, “you're paying next time too. To make it up to me.”

Shuuichi laughs lightly, then shakes his head. “Next time?”

Ouma nods, then takes a big drink from his soda. “Yeah!”

“Well, if I'm paying, I think I should choose where we go,” Shuuichi swallows, heartbeat speeding up again, “on our next... date.”

Ouma blinks, and for just a second his grin slips. “Aww, I knew Saihara-chan loves me!”

Shuuichi laughs, wrapping his hands around his drink and focusing on the cool glass and not how he still feels unbalanced. “Something like that.”

Even though Shuuichi is pretty sure it's all one of Ouma's games, they hold hands when they walk back to the dorms, and he nods when Ouma asks him if he's feeling any better.

--

9/25

--

“Hey, do you guys know any constellations?” Momota leans back against the grass, his head resting on the arm that isn't pointing up at the sky.

“No,” Shuuichi says between sit ups, “but I know you haven't done one hundred yet.”

“I'm getting there!” Momota does a sit up, then stops again. “Y’know Shuuichi, if you know the stars, you can find your way even without a map.”

“Unless you're on the other side of the world.” Harukawa is long since done with her sit ups.

“Well... Half of the world is good enough for tonight, right?” Momota tilts his head to the side so he's looking at them. Shuuichi sighs and sits up completely, resigning himself to finishing his sit ups later.

Momota looks up, then points. “See that? It's the north star.”

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah, in the little dipper, right? That's the only one I know.”

“Yeah, that's pretty good!” Momota's arm shifts. “There's Aquarius, see? And Lacerta. It's supposed to be a lizard.”

“It doesn't look like one.” Harukawa says. Shuuichi glances over and sees that she's staring straight up. He looks back at the sky too.

“Yeah, well, this time of year isn't great for constellations.” Momota sounds a little miffed.

“It's still really cool, Momota-kun.” Shuuichi smiles and leans over a little so he can elbow him.

“Yeah!” Momota coughs, then smiles with his usual vigor. “Yeah, they are. All you really need to know is the north star anyway. It's the sky's compass.” He lays back on the grass, hands tucked behind his head.

Shuuichi leans back too, even though the ground is cool to the touch and he's a little cold already. From the corner of his eye, he sees Harukawa still sitting, watching them. She hesitates before moving to lie down herself.

“Is this training too, Momota?” Her voice is softer than normal.

“Mmm.” Momota nods. “Think of it as spiritual training.”

They lay back like that, quietly watching the stars. It's not silent, because they're still on campus, but it's definitely peaceful. The sky is an inky blue ocean above them, the stars silver pinpricks of light feebly staying afloat. Shuuichi can hear Momota's breathing beside him, loud and strong like everything he does. Harukawa is silent, but he can feel warmth coming off of her. Shuuichi smiles up at the night sky and takes a long, slow breath. He swears he sees the sky breathe with him.

--

9/28

--

Shuuichi unlocks the door to the dorm room and steps inside, kicking it shut with his foot. He sighs. The soup container in his other hand is hot, but not burning, so he takes his shoes off by kicking his feet instead of just walking over to the “kitchen” area and putting the food down. Leaning against the door, he gets them off with a minimal amount of jostling to the soup, and he walks over to the small table in the room and puts the container down before turning and getting a spoon. Truthfully, Shuuichi doesn’t feel much like eating at all right now, but he’s already promised himself that he wouldn’t go for more than twenty four hours without food, and the last time he ate was around this time yesterday. Shuuichi’s stomach is all too eager to remind him of this, twisting and curling and licking hungry wet trails on the smooth walls of his abdomen. It had taken everything in him not to get a plate and fill it with roasted meat and mashed potatoes and fresh baked rolls and eclairs dipped in chocolate and fried rice, took everything in him not to sit at a table and stuff his face.

Shuuichi shudders, imagining actually putting all of that in his mouth. He couldn’t do it, even if he’d filled his plate and sat down and stuck the fork into the first cube of meat. Soup, he can do though. Not in the dining hall (which he can only eat fruit in now, apparently. He’d tried an egg at breakfast the other day, but the slick of the yolk and the salty, rich smell had twisted his throat shut), but in his room, he can have soup. Shuuichi sits down and opens the container, a hundred smells wafting up towards him. All at once, his mouth is watering and his heartrate picks up, his eyes hyperfocused and the scent of celery, carrots, and chicken is all around him. He takes a deep breath. Ever since this started (this?), everything has been stronger: scents, tastes, colors. Shuuichi isn’t sure if he loves it or hates it.

He brings a mouthful of broth to his mouth and almost chokes. It’s salty. Not in a bad way, just... He swallows the soup. It’s wrong, almost, to taste something nice. It feels like he’s stealing something that he doesn’t deserve.

He swirls the soup with the spoon, watching the whirlpool of boiled carrot pieces, tiny noodles, and chunks of chicken. Methodically, like he’s not really here at all, Shuuichi feeds himself another mouthful. The carrot feels like mush in his mouth, and the soup is too savory, too much. He shuts his eyes and breathes. If he’d eaten last night or this morning, this would be easier. This is his own fault.

The door opens with a sticky noise, and Shuuichi drops the spoon into the container, his hands shaking. Oh god, he can’t do this with someone watching him. He can’t.

“Yo, Shuuichi!” Momota shuts the door, and Shuuichi doesn’t turn around but he can still hear it. “It’s been forever since we’ve had lunch together, huh? I was hoping you’d be in!”

Shuuichi squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. “Sorry, Momota-kun. I just finished.” He had two mouthfuls of soup. He is not finished, and his stomach is screaming at him for the lie.

He turns, and Momota looks vaguely disappointed. “Oh. Do you have to go somewhere?” Momota is holding a container covered with the logo of a fast food chain. Something inside Shuuichi lurches when the smell hits him. He has to get out of here.

“Yeah, I--” He snaps the lid onto the soup container and pretends he didn’t see Momota look at how full it still is and frown. “I need to get to...” He can’t say class, because he and Momota have math together and it’s not for another 45 minutes.

Momota’s eyes are aimed at the floor, his mouth a tight line. “Yeah, whatever. Have fun, Saihara.”

Shuuichi’s eye sting as he marches over to the door, shoving his shoes on. He’s the worst person alive, right now. It’s a good thing he didn’t eat much, because if he had it’d almost certainly end up on the floor very soon. He opens the door, his hands shaking so badly he almost can’t turn the knob.

“I don’t know what I did, but...” Momota’s voice is too monotone as Shuuichi pauses in the doorway, half out and half in. “Whatever. Just go.”

Shuuichi does, the door too loud as it shuts. He doesn’t bother locking the door, instead choosing to sink down with his back against it, eyes pressed into the palms of his hands. His heart seems to finally have caught on to the whole situation, because it’s beating painfully fast in his chest as a sob climbs its way up his throat. He breathes, intentionally slow even though it sounds loud and raw and messy in his ears. It’s a miracle that he manages to pull himself off the floor, stumbling to his feet and over to the stairs, only barely aware of the fact that he’s definitely a mess and definitely only has his student ID and keys with him.

He starts down the stairs, every footstep echoing with have fun, Saihara and you don’t deserve friends like him and shouldn’t have eaten at all in his head. Empty hunger and bitter guilt bleed together into purple and blue and swirling carrots, and nausea rolls around with anxiety in his stomach, mixing and splashing on his heart. On the stairwell, he takes a moment to dig his nails into the sides of his face and focus on the pinpricks of sensation and not how very badly his lungs are trying to stop breathing, how his chest feels like it’s very, very full, and not with anything pleasant.

“Saihara-kun?” The voice is familiar, but Shuuichi is too out of it to place it immediately. “Are you okay?!” A pair of hands grab at his wrists, tugging them away from his face. The pain around his eyes stops, and Shuuichi is vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing a really great job at clawing his own face.

“I’m--” He sucks in a breath, opens his eyes, and looks straight at Kiibo’s face. “I’m-- I--”

“It’s okay, Saihara-kun.” Kiibo’s brows are furrowed and his mouth twisted into a worried frown. “Just breathe.” Shuuichi tries, he really does, but the air feels too cold in his throat and he chokes, gasping. Kiibo pulls back, letting go of his hands.

“Does this, um.” Kiibo flutters near Shuuichi’s face, unsure. “Does this happen a lot? Do you take medication?”

Shuuichi shakes his head, not really sure about the first question but doing a great job at ignoring it, and buries his face in his hands again, leaning against the wall and focusing on the steady pressure of it behind him and not anything to do with his mind or his body.

Kiibo’s hands gently grasp his shoulders, and Shuuichi focuses on that too, the warmth and the steadiness in them. He sucks in a deep breath, his head spinning at the sensation. He just needs to keep his mind right here, right now. The wall against his back, Kiibo’s hands on his shoulders, the weight of his feet against the floor. Shuuichi breathes, slow and shaky but careful, deliberate. His head stops spinning like a tilt-a-whirl, and his heart stops its campaign to break through his sternum and escape outside of his body.

“I should take you to the health center.” Kiibo’s voice is soft.

Shuuichi shakes his head. “N-no, Kiibo-kun, I’m fine.”

“Really.” Kiibo rolls his eyes. “I’m taking you to my room, at least. Or yours?” He tilts his head.

Shuuichi shakes his head violently. “No, um, yours is fine.” He starts to stand up, and Kiibo steadies him, hands still carefully on his shoulders. It's grounding. Kiibo lets go with one hand, gently pushing him towards the hallway and not the stairs. It's probably a good thing that he lives on this floor; with the way his legs are shaking, Shuuichi's not sure he would make it. Kiibo stops not far down the hall and takes his hand off of Shuuichi's shoulder to fumble with his keys, knocking twice on the door before twisting the knob and opening it. He all but shoves Shuuichi inside.

“Saihara-kun, have a seat on my bed.” Kiibo follows him in, still pushing him. Shuuichi glances forward and sees two bedroom doors, just like in he and Momota's room. He swallows, not letting himself think about that. One of the doors is shut and completely covered with white paper, hiding the tan door. On it, a checkerboard pattern has been haphazardly drawn in a few places, half finished. The other is open, still the normal color, revealing a very plain room inside. Shuuichi can see photographs, and the bedspread is dark blue and silver, but that's about it. Glancing back at Kiibo, he starts to walk into the room. Kiibo nods, and waves him forward.

“I’m going to make some tea and let Ouma know we have a guest.” He pauses, watching as Shuuichi sits down gingerly on the bed. “It’s very important that you keep breathing, Saihara-kun. I recommend counting your breaths.” Shuuichi nods in response, and Kiibo disappears into the other part of the dorm room.

Shuuichi stares down at him hands, his bangs waving in his face. He listens to the footsteps in the other room, the hum of a microwave. He feels detached, numb, like his brain left his head when he was gasping on the stairwell and now he’s just an empty shell. He counts his breath as it fills his chest, ticking down a finger to mark it. Shuuichi breathes out, noticing how shaky his breathing still is. It’s like his ribs are fragile, stretching and threatening to snap with the pressure of each breath. He folds another finger down as he slowly draws in a breath. His mind keeps trying to go back to Momota’s face and the whirlpool of broth, but he keeps tugging it back to the present, the soft rise and fall of his chest and the folding of his fingers. He’s almost back to normal when he hears soft murmuring in the room beside him, and when he leans a little to the side, he can see Kiibo standing just outside of Ouma’s open doorway.

Shuuichi can’t make out the words, but Kiibo looks deeply concerned. That’s probably his fault, Shuuichi reasons. Anyone would be worried if they found someone like that on the staircase. Shuuichi feels a pang of guilt, sour and unexpected. This is probably a huge inconvenience to Kiibo, a waste of his free time. Shuuichi runs a shaky hand through his hair, then drops it back down to his lap, staring at it. All he ever does is waste people’s time, doesn’t he?

“Saihara-kun, how do you like your tea?” Kiibo is leaning into the room, his eyes scanning over Shuuichi. Shuuichi feels vulnerable, naked.

“Um, plain is fine.” Shuuichi looks away. “Sorry about... all of this.”

Kiibo makes an annoying huffing noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Here.” Kiibo’s suddenly holding a cup of tea, which Shuuichi is mildly confused by, but he takes it anyway. Wasn’t Kiibo just in Ouma’s room? Did he already go and get the tea? Shuuichi decides that he must just be more out of it than he originally thought and takes a sip of the tea.

“Thank you, Kiibo-kun.” Shuuichi smiles. “It’s good.” He watches Kiibo’s face break with a small smile as he sits down next to Shuuichi.

“The professor taught me how to make tea. I can’t ever get the water the right temperature in the dorm, but it’s close.” Kiibo looks away from his tea, at Shuuichi. “Saihara-kun, does this happen often?”

“A-Ah, no.” Shuuichi fiddles with the cup in his hands. It’s just a normal mug, plain white with coffee and tea stains inside.

Kiibo sighs softly. “You should really see a doctor, you know. Panic attacks can often resemble other medical emergencies, and while I’m fairly certain you’re not having a heart attack, it would be prudent to be sure.”

Shuuichi glances up at him, then away again. “I was having a panic attack?” He’s heard of them, of course, but he’s not really sure the term applies to him necessarily.

“I believe so.” Kiibo sighs again. “There’s free therapy on campus for students, you know. I’d walk over there with you, if you want.”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “N-no, I’m fine. I just... overreacted. That’s all.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Saihara-kun.” Kiibo tilts his cup of tea back, finishing it. “When’s your next class?”

Shuuichi blinks at the subject change. “At two... I have math.”

Kiibo nods. “I have class in just a few minutes, actually. You shouldn’t be alone though, so would it be okay if Kokichi stayed with you instead?”

“I think I’d be fine if--”

Kiibo waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “If you say that you’d be fine alone, I’m going to lose it. I’m not leaving you alone right after a panic attack.”

“R-right...” Shuuichi takes a deep breath. “Ouma-kun is fine. We’re friends, I think.”

Kiibo snorts. “I certainly hope so, given how much he talks about you.” He stands up, not giving Shuuichi a chance to ask about that. “I’ll let him know.” He pauses. “Sorry that I’m just... leaving.”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “No, you’ve been really nice.” He smiles. “I’m okay now, really.”

Kiibo looks at him, expression unreadable. “I hope so.” He grabs his backpack as he walks out, turning his head towards Ouma’s door. “Kokichi, I’m leaving! Saihara-kun is in my room.” He waves at Shuuichi before he opens the door to the hallway, and it shuts softly behind him. Shuuichi stares at the doorway blankly, the tea in his hands growing cold. He can hear rustling from the room next to Kiibo’s, but he doesn’t want to say anything. He’s intruding on Ouma’s space right now. It’s not like Ouma had any say in this, anyway.

Ouma peeks his head into the room before Shuuichi can say anything. His hair is more tousled than normal, but his usual grin is just the same as last time Shuuichi saw him. He hovers in the doorway for a second before walking inside and flopping down on the bed by Shuuichi, leaning back on his arms casually.

“Hey, Saihara-chan!” Ouma tilts his head, a lock of violet hair falling between his eyes. “Kiibaby said you were gonna be lonely, so I decided that I’d hang out with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Shuuichi says, his voice small as he looks away, wishing for his hat more than he has at all this past week. “I’m okay.”

“What?” Ouma nudges him with his shoulder. “But then what am I gonna do until math class? Lie on my bed being bored some more?” He stands up, spreads his arms. “I’d much rather spend time with my beloved Saihara-chan!”

Shuuichi blinks. “Your what?” It doesn’t really seem like Ouma hears him, because he’s already turning around and opening a desk drawer.

“Oooh, I know! We can play ‘go through Kiibaby’s things and ruin his organization!’” Ouma points a pencil at Shuuichi. “I’ll go first! We can put the pencils in his sock drawers.”

“O-Ouma-kun, that’s...” Shuuichi has to hold his hands in front of his face to block the pencil Ouma throws at him. “Kiibo-kun probably wouldn’t want us to do that...”

“So?” Ouma turns around and grins at him. “Fine then, let’s play Clue!”

“Clue?” Shuuichi hops off the bed and follows Ouma as he walks towards the main part of the dorm room.

“Mhmm! I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, Saihara-chan! It’s a murder mystery game, and you want to be a detective, after all.”

“H-How do you even know that?” Shuuichi watches Ouma pull a board game out of the fridge. There also appears to be a horse mask in there, along with milk, eggs, and a lot of soda.

“Oh, I can read minds. I thought you knew that, Saiahra-chan!” Ouma turns on his heels and prances over to the table, setting the board game down triumphantly. “That was a lie, though.” He looks over to Shuuichi and grins. “Beat me at Clue, and I’ll tell you how.”

“Wait, this doesn’t look like a two player game...” Shuuichi says, smiling despite himself.

“You can be whoever, and I’ll be everyone else! C’mon, Saihara-chan, it’ll be fun!”

--

Chapter 4: 9/30 - 10/17

Chapter Text

9/30

--

It spins around his head like a fly buzzing around a cramped car. 116.2, 116.2, nine-and-four-tenths less than last time. Shuuichi sits down on the floor and stares at the scale until the number blinks off. Is it real? Is it even possible? Shuuichi’s head is twisting and twirling with numbers, with 116.2 and 9.4 and is this real? He’s happy. Last time, he wasn’t sure how to feel, but he knows now. He’s ecstatic. Shuuichi feels his lips split into a grin as he leans forward, knees digging into the cold tile, and grabs the scale, gently setting it back in the cabinet. Next, the towels-- red and blue and red again, a neat curtain over his secret. The cabinet shuts so quietly that Shuuichi opens it again to make sure none of the towels are sticking out.

He stands up, legs shaky, and pulls his jeans up over his hips. It occurs to him that his weight loss is likely the cause of the sudden looseness in all his clothes. He looks at himself in the mirror, sees a dopey grin on his face, and looks away, shaking his head as he buttons his pants. He’s got plenty of time to celebrate later; Momota’s expecting him for breakfast. They hadn’t talked much since their fight (if that’s all it was? Shuuichi isn’t sure, but he knows he should have said something about it by now, an apology at the very least), but Momota had still dutifully dragged him along to training, even if it made Harukawa eye them suspiciously the whole time. Shuuichi should use their breakfast routine to make up with him. He lives with the guy; it’s just going to get worse the longer he lets it sit.

Shuuichi yanks his shirt over his head, sneezing as his hair sticks to his nose. He tries his best to smooth it out as he opens the door, almost walking right into Momota.

“S-Sorry, Momota-kun!” Shuuichi takes a step backward, and Momota just blinks at him.

“I, uh...” Momota shakes his head and backs away from the door. “Let’s go.” He marches towards the door and slides on his shoes, not really waiting for Shuuichi. Shuuichi scrambles behind him, shoving his shoes onto his bare feet even though he knows he’ll regret the blisters later. Momota’s still at the stairs by the time Shuuichi has the door locked, but he waits for him, not looking at his face. Shuuichi feels heat burn his face as they start down the stairs, and he keeps his gaze down. What is he supposed to say?

“Momota-kun,” he starts, swallowing down his fear. Anything is better than nothing at this point. “I’m sorry about Friday. I was rude and just... you didn’t deserve that.”

Momota sighs, long and soft. “No, I’m being dramatic.” He reaches up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, still not looking Shuuichi in the eyes. “You obviously weren’t feeling well, I just thought... I thought you’d talk to me if something was wrong, instead of running away.”

Shuuichi stares at his shoes. “Sorry.” They reach the end of the stairs, the dining hall in sight.

“Don’t worry about it, Shuuichi.” Momota claps a hand on his back, and Shuuichi looks up to see his normal smile in place. “Next time, tell me what’s wrong, okay? Don’t just go running off.”

Shuuichi nods as they walk into the dining hall, relief mixing with 116.2 in his stomach. He smiles, and it feels very real on his face. The buzz and hum of hungry students and conversation fills his ears as he and Momota head towards their normal table, Amami, Akamatsu, and Harukawa already there as usual. Momota waves at them and Harukawa’s eyebrows raise.

“Did you two finally make up?” Harukawa asks as soon as they’re close enough to talk, and Momota just grins wider.

“Yeah, we did!” He glances down at the plate in front of Harukawa. “Aw, you didn’t wait for us, Harumaki!” He pouts, and Harukawa rolls her eyes even though she’s still smiling.

“The lines are too long by the time you two are awake. Go, get breakfast, or you’ll be waiting all day.” She looks back to her plate of food and puts a piece of melon into her mouth. “Go.”

Momota laughs and grabs Shuuichi’s arm, herding him over to a line that smells like smoke and meat and fire. Shuuichi carefully pries his arm out of Momota’s grip.

“Ah, Momota-kun, I’m going to go get some fruit.” He smiles at Momota, who frowns for only a second.

“Man, I don’t know how you do it. I’d be starving in ten minutes if I just had fruit for breakfast.” Momota laughs, and Shuuichi laughs with him, even if it’s a little bit too close to his secret for comfort.

“Ah well, I just don’t have much appetite in the mornings. See you in a minute!” Shuuichi smiles as he breaks away, walking in the direction of the fruit line. It’s mostly empty, as usual, but today they have a bowl of mixed berries in addition to the melon and pineapple. Shuuichi counts out eight each of strawberries, melon cubes, and blueberries, then turns and heads back towards the table.

He pauses, eyes wide, at the toast station. There’s no line, but Shuuichi can smell the sweet, warm scent of bread toasting. He freezes in front of it. He could try for a slice of bread today. It’s not like he hasn’t earned it, right? 116.2, 9.4, the looseness of his jeans where they’re slipping down his hips. He could have a piece of bread. It probably wouldn’t change anything.

His chest squeezes just a little at the thought, anxious energy starting to coil and twist in his stomach, and he turns away. No point in ruining his progress, he supposes. Even so, his mind is over at the bread station, smearing butter on toasted bread, topping it with strawberry jam and going back for seconds. He sits down with his friends, and half of his mind is knee deep in buttered toast while the other half is singing 116.2 like it’s a magical spell, over and over again. His plate looks very full, all of a sudden.

“Something wrong?” Amami asks, his voice muffled by a mouthful of muffin.

“Ah, no.” Shuuichi swallows, the lie bitter on his tongue. “I thought one of the strawberries was moldy, but it was just a trick of the light.”

Amami smiles. “Yeah, it’d suck if it was.” He takes another bite of muffin, and Shuuichi tries not to stare as crumbs tumble to the table. He distracts himself with a blueberry, tart and floral on his tongue.

Conversation lulls as everyone eats, tired and hungry more than sociable. Shuuichi holds his phone under the table and starts searching “how does weight loss work,” and he's confronted by information that is neither simple nor surprising. Calories and fats and carbs and protein swirl around his head as he bites into a strawberry, scrolling through a page with his phone nestled in one hand. Most of the pages focus on how to lose weight, not how the actual process works, but Shuuichi reads them anyway, in case whatever he's doing now stops working. He downloads an app to his phone, waiting impatiently for it to install. It feels nice, when he opens it up and puts in his height, weight, age. It's all facts, all neat and clean and definable and real, evidence of his body as clear as fingerprints on a murder weapon. The analytical part of Shuuichi's mind jumps and sings happily when he inputs good breakfast: 8 strawberries, 8 blueberries, and 8 cubes of melon. 87 calories. The mystery behind his weight loss has been solved, the culprit-- unsurprisingly-- that he simply isn't eating a lot.

--

10/2

--

Amami (7:34 p.m.): hey you up

Shuuichi (7:35 p.m.): it’s like 7:30 amami-kun

Amami (7:35 p.m.): yeah true

Amami (7:35 p.m.): so how’s life

Shuuichi (7:36 p.m.): life's good!! how about with you?

Amami (7:37 p.m.): that psych paper has actually killed me but other than that it's great

Shuuichi (7:37 p.m.): oh yeah that.... was an experience to write. i'm sure you did fine though. at least you turned something in. not everyone did

Amami (7:38 p.m.): those poor souls

Amami (7:38 p.m.): oh yeah I just remembered

Amami (7:38 p.m.): how do you feel about camping?

Shuuichi (7:39 p.m.): i've never gone before but i think it sounds fun. why?

Amami (7:40 p.m.): apparently the school will pay for one team-building trip under a certain amount each semester for the study groups. it's not well advertised, but toujou-san found out and asked if i had any ideas. camping is pretty inexpensive and fun, so

Shuuichi (7:41 p.m.): that sounds like a great idea!! do you know when we'd go?

Amami (7:42 p.m.): soon, probably. if it gets cold first it won't be so pleasant unless we get cabins or something. actually, cabins may work better since then nobody needs to get tents.

Shuuichi (7:42 p.m.): i can ask ouma-kun and momota-kun about it if you want! i'm in favor of the idea

Amami (7:42 p.m.): yeah, that'd be great! thanks saihara-kun

Shuuichi (7:42 p.m.): you're welcome!

--

10/6

--

“Hey, Saihara-kun.” Akamatsu doesn’t look up from her paper when she talks, still scribbling notes along the side of the sheet music. “What do you want to do after college?”

Shuuichi sets down his pen and looks up at her. “Ah... a detective, probably.”

“Oh, you'd be great at that!” Akamatsu grins. “I want to be a pianist, of course.”

Shuuichi smiles. “You already are.”

Akamatsu giggles and shrugs. “Yeah, I am.” She leans back on her chair, stretching. “How come you want to be a detective?”

Shuuichi looks back down at his notes. “Well, it's kind of the family business. My uncle got me into it.”

“Oh, your uncle? You've mentioned him before,” Akamatsu says. “Have you solved any mysteries together?”

Shuuichi laughs nervously, tilts his head so his bangs cover his eyes. “Just one.” He picks at the corner of the paper.

“What kind?” Akamatsu doesn't seem to have picked up on his nerves.

“Murder...” Shuuichi swallows. “But I didn't really solve it, not at all.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I got it wrong.” Shuuichi has to focus to keep his breathing steady. “The actual culprit was found before it was too late, but it wasn't harmless. I put someone on death row, and they didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh.” Akamatsu puts a hand on his shoulder. “We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm sure you did what was best, though.”

Shuuichi shakes her hand off. “No, it's fine. It's just if I hadn't interfered, it would have been better for everyone involved.” If Shuuichi didn't exist, it would be better for everyone involved. “I'm not really sure I should be a detective, because of that.”

“How old were you, Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu puts a hand on his, pulling it away from his face, and he realizes he'd been digging his nails into his cheek.

“Fourteen, but that doesn't excuse it. My uncle trusted me, and I messed up.” He shuts his eyes, directs his thoughts towards the warmth of her hands on his.

“That's not your fault, then.” Akamatsu sounds so sure that it almost makes Shuuichi jump in surprise. “The guy didn't die, right? And your uncle was the adult. Whether or not you found the wrong culprit, he should have investigated more. A fourteen year old shouldn't be forced to carry that weight.”

“It was still my fault.” Shuuichi sighs.

“No, it wasn't.” Akamatsu gives him a small smile. “Geez, Saihara-kun, you've been carrying a heavy burden around. It's no wonder you're stressed.”

“I-I’m not stressed...”

Akamatsu laughs. “Sure, and I'm not failing math.” She leans into his shoulder, gently rests her head against his. “You can talk to me, okay? About anything. And it really wasn't your fault. You made a mistake, but we all do that. Plus, you're growing from it, right?”

Shuuichi nods. “R-Right.”

Akamatsu beams. “So you're doing better already! You're going to become the world's best detective and get justice for thousands of people!”

“World's best...?” Shuuichi laughs. “I don't know about that...”

“Well, I'll become the world's best pianist, and you can come to my concerts.” Akamatsu pulls her hands back from his. “But first, you have to help me with math.”

Shuuichi smiles, shaking his head. “Alright, Akamatsu-san.”

--

“Hey, Saihara.” Harukawa’s watching him pack up his stuff, not moving from her chair. “The professor said we could stay here and work together on the assignment if we wanted to.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Ah, I understand it pretty well though...” He trails off when he sees a dusting of red on Harukawa's cheeks, her eyes not quite meeting his. He sits back down. “But I can stay and work on it with you.”

“Yeah, Shuuichi!” From his other side, Momota claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Not all of us are geniuses like you!”

“Aren't you already done, Momota-kun?” Shuuichi tilts his head and laughs when Momota freezes up.

“Ah-- well-- that's...”

Harukawa sighs. “The assignment.”

“Right!” Momota laughs nervously. “What part are you at?”

“I've drawn all the graphs, but that's it...” Shuuichi looks to Harukawa, wondering if she's even started.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” A familiar voice startles Shuuichi (and from the way he jumps, Momota too), coming from right behind them. “That's where I am too, Saihara-chan!”

Shuuichi turns around and looks at Ouma, who's holding his assignment, Kiibo's bag slung over his shoulder. He's grinning, as usual, but Shuuichi can see the eraser-worn page of his notebook and wonders if Ouma is more frustrated than he lets on.

“Go away.” Harukawa, apparently, does not wonder the same thing. “You weren't invited, Ouma.”

Ouma's face immediately drops into a pout, and he moves between Momota and Shuuichi to sit on the table. Shuuichi glances around him, but either the TAs don't mind or don't notice.

“Aww, Harukawa-chan, you can't kick me out! Me and my beloved Saihara-chan are dating, after all!” The pout dissolves as fast as it appeared, and Ouma giggles maniacally.

“Wait, what?!” Momota turns to Shuuichi, eyes wide. “Bro, you didn't tell me about this!”

Harukawa rolls her eyes. “He's lying, obviously.” She folds her arms over her chest.

Shuuichi swallows and tugs at a strand of his hair with one hand. Ouma leans forward, towards him. “Saihara-chan, tell them! Tell them we went on a date!”

“A-Ah, well...” Shuuichi takes a deep breath and looks away from Ouma's violet eyes. “We did go to the cafe last month...”

“You what.” Harukawa glares daggers at Ouma. “Saihara, this is a very bad idea.”

Ouma frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're so mean to me, Harukawa-chan! I would never hurt my beloved Saihara-chan!”

Shuuichi can sense the tension growing, and he really doesn't want Harukawa to strangle Ouma here. “Harukawa-san, it's okay. He was really nice while we were out, and I don't think he'd do anything to actually harm anyone.” Shuuichi gingerly sets a hand on Harukawa's shoulder, and she sighs, untensing.

“Fine.” She stares down at her math assignment like she plans on stabbing it.

“Wow, Saihara-chan, did you forget? I'm the supreme leader of an evil mega-organization!” Ouma leans back, balancing on his arms. Shuuichi feels the animosity bleed out of the air around them, and he finally relaxes.

“That's a lie though, isn't it?” Shuuichi smiles as he picks his pen back up, turning to his paper again.

“What?! You doubt me, Saihara-chan?” Ouma reaches for Shuuichi's pen, but Momota slaps his hand away.

“I doubt that you'll pass this class without me. Get your paper out, Ouma.” Momota points a finger at him. “Team Kaito is going to blow the professor's mind!”

--

10/14

--

Shuuichi shuts the passenger door of Momota’s car behind him as he clambers out into the cool morning air, the bottoms of his shoes making a soft scraping noise against the asphalt. He hurries to catch up with Momota, who has somehow already managed to get to the door of the restaurant, unaware of how far back Shuuichi is.

“Momota-kun, wait!” Shuuichi jogs over to him as Momota turns around, surprised.

“Sorry, Shuuichi! I thought you were right behind me.” Momota rubs the back of his head. “I’m just worried we’re the last ones here...”

Shuuichi sighs, smiling anyway. “I doubt that... we planned to meet at ten, right? It’s only five minutes after that.”

“Yeah, you’re right bro.” Momota grins and opens the door to the restaurant. “Let’s go!”

Shuuichi follows Momota as he walks into the brightly lit entrance area, their shoes tapping against the polished cream tile on the way to the hostess. She smiles cordially at them and tucks a lock of cherry-red hair behind her ears. Between the glossy floors, chandeliers above them, and the knee length lace dress the hostess wears, Shuuichi suddenly feels very underdressed.

“Two?” The hostess starts to grab a pair of menus from a table near her, but pauses when Momota shakes his head.

“Ah, no, we’re with the Amami party?” He glances back at Shuuichi like he’s unsure, but recognition flits across the hostess’s face.

“Oh, of course! I’ll take you to your seats, so please follow me, sirs.” She waits until Shuuichi nods hesitantly, then starts off into the restaurant. As Shuuichi trails behind her, eyes flickering over the suits and dresses, he leans in and whispers to Momota.

“When Amami-kun said he’d treat us all to brunch at a place he liked to go with his family, this isn’t really what I had in mind...” From the look on Momota’s face, he agrees. Shuuichi can only hope that nobody’s judging him for showing up in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. At least he wore a button up and nice shoes... Momota is worse off, in a t-shirt and jeans with his jacket only on one arm. Shuuichi swallows and keeps his eyes on the hostess’s back, praying that everyone is too distracted by their food to look at them.

The hostess stops to open a neat white door and holds it open for them. “Amami-sama requested a private room for your party. I hope it’s to your liking. If there’s any trouble at all, please let me know.” She dips her head. “Enjoy your meal.”

Shuuichi steps into the room cautiously, relaxing when he sees Akamatsu wearing pajamas and sitting next to Amami.

“Hey, you made it! Now we’re just waiting on Chabashira-san and Yumeno-san,” Akamatsu says when she spots them, waving them over.

“Ah, so we’re not last...” Shuuichi sits next to her, and Momota sits on his other side, still transfixed by the chandelier apparently.

“You’re fine, don’t worry.” Amami leans forward to talk to him around Akamatsu. “I thought more people would be late, so I’m actually pretty pleased so far.”

Shuuichi laughs and brushes his bangs to the side a little. “That’s good...” he glances around, at the windows covered with translucent ivory curtains, the glittering chandelier, the gleaming wood of the table. “I didn’t expect you to have picked somewhere so...”

“Fancy?” Amami laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I should have warned you guys... don’t worry about it though. My parents are kinda loaded.”

“They must be, for you to go somewhere like this with any frequency.” Harukawa’s voice, coming from behind Shuuichi, startles him more than it should have given how much she stands out against the cream and gold decor. She’s wearing a black dress, her hair in one ponytail instead of her usual two. “I’m more surprised that you two-- no, three,” she glances at Akamatsu “didn’t think to look the restaurant up beforehand.”

Akamatsu giggles nervously. “Sorry...”

Harukawa sighs and sits down on Momota’s left side. “You’re not the only ones. I suspect Ouma looked it up and dressed like that on purpose.” Shuuichi follows her gaze over to Ouma, who is wearing... a lot. Purple tights, black denim short shorts, a white crop top over a neon purple tank top, white shoulder-length gloves, and a black and white checkered scarf. Shuuichi’s eyes hurt from looking at him.

Ouma notices the attention and perks up, waving from his spot sitting on the table beside a very well-dressed Gokuhara, who is sitting in his chair like any normal person. “Hey, Saihara-chan! Do you like my outfit?” He stretches out a leg, almost knocking over the glass of water in front of Kiibo. “I wore it just for you~!” He giggles and leans forward onto his elbows.

“Ouma-kun,” Toujou lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Please don’t lay on the table.”

Ouma practically rolls off the table into his seat, opting to put his-- bare -- feet up on it instead. “Sure thing, mom!” He’s still looking at Shuuichi, though, wiggling his eyebrows. Shuuichi smiles despite himself, and he hides it behind his hand.

They’re interrupted by the door opening, a neat looking boy with short brown hair and a cream colored uniform steps inside. The conversations around the room lull as everyone turns to look at him.

“Hello, I’m Takahashi, and I’ll be your server today.” He pulls a notepad from his coat pocket, a pen already in hand. “May I get you something to drink?”

Amami raises a hand to get his attention. “We’ll order now, but we’re missing two people still.”

Takahashi nods. “If you’d like, I can bring something out so it’s here when they arrive, or I can ask them what they’d like then.”

“Oh, I know what they like!” Angie waves a hand. “Himiko likes ginger tea with lots of sugar, and Tenko likes iced coffee!”

Takahashi nods and writes on his notepad. He glances up, eyes still on Angie. “We’ll start with you, then. What can I get you to drink?”

“Hmmm...” Angie holds a finger to her chin, thinking. “I’ll have orange juice!” Takahashi scribbles it down, then turns to take Shirogane’s order.

Shuuichi looks down and opens his menu. The pages inside are written in neat type, and it looks to be mostly western style food. Shuuichi is overwhelmed. He reads the first option-- a “caramelized walnut waffle” -- and immediately moves onto the next one. Quickly, he realizes that nothing on this menu is something he could eat, not in front of everyone; each item is dressed up in “decadent” and “rich,” “cream” and “pan-fried.” Objectively, Shuuichi knows they all sound delicious, and Momota to his left seems to be incredibly pleased. His eyes settle on a section labeled “small plates,” and he relaxes just a little. Small. That’s what he needs.

Most of the items are still impossible (oatmeal with fresh cream? cream.), but Shuuichi sees “assortment of seasonal fruits” and almost sighs aloud in relief. The description says it’s served with yogurt and granola, but he can pick around that. He leans back, closing his menu. He’ll be fine.

“Oh, do you know what you’re getting?” Momota looks over at him. “I’m torn between two of the egg dishes.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Yeah, I'm--”

“Momota.” Harukawa whacks his head with a hand. “Pay attention. Your turn.”

Momota blinks, the rubs his head. “I'll have coffee, please.” Takahashi writes it down, then looks to Shuuichi.

“Um, water, please.” Shuuichi looks back to Momota, whos watching him patiently. “I think I'm getting this.” He opens the menu and points to the fruit plate.

Momota frowns. “You sure? I think that's supposed to be like... a side dish.”

Shuuichi nods, looking down at his menu. “Yeah, I'm not very hungry.” There's a pause, then he feels the warmth of Momota’s hand on his back.

“Well, if you need more food, I'll share with you! I think I'm getting an omelet, and it sounds like it'll be a feast!” Momota sounds so excited that Shuuichi finds himself smiling even though the idea of a “feast” makes him want to cry.

“Thanks, Momota-kun.” Shuuichi stares down at the gleaming wood of the table, at his wobbly reflection. He thinks he looks like a dark, frowning cloud, depressing and glum. He forces a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries.

“Sorry we’re late!” Chabashira opens the door, and out of the corner of his eye, Shuuichi sees Akamatsu jump in surprise.

“I didn’t want to come.” Yumeno yawns into the palm of her hand as she sinks into the seat beside Angie. “Why go to brunch when I could sleep in?”

“Yumeno-san...” Shirogane sighs and rests her chin on her hands, elbows propped up on the table. “Amami-kun is treating us to this, so aren’t you being a little...?”

Yumeno sighs, her gaze rolling over to Amami. “Thanks.” She leans onto her arms like she’s going to go to sleep right on the table. Chabashira sits down next to her, her eyes glued to the back of her head.

Shuuichi glances over at Akamatsu, who’s actually looking at him, apparently. He looks away quickly, and she giggles.

“How’s your weekend been, Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu leans back against the back of her chair. “Mine’s been so busy. We have that project due tomorrow in music theory.”

Shuuichi smiles sympathetically. “Yeah, you mentioned that...” He peers up at the door as Takahashi slips inside, a tray of drinks balanced precariously on his arm. “Did you manage to get it done?”

Akamatsu nods. “Yeah, finally. But you didn’t answer my question, Saihara-kun!” She smiles wider.

“Ah. It’s been... normal, I guess.” Shuuichi watches the ice shift around the glass as Takahashi reaches around him to gently set it down. “Thanks.”

Takahashi nods, and he sets a glass of orange juice in front of Akamatsu. She thanks him, and he moves on.

“Normal is good! I hope you’re not overworking yourself, though.” Akamatsu sips juice through her straw.

“Overworking myself?” Shuuichi blinks. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, well,” she sets the glass down, and it clunks against the table. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”

“...I have.” Shuuichi stares at his wobbly reflection on the curved surface of his glass, condensation running down his distorted face like tears.

Akamatsu’s face shifts into a sympathetic look that Shuuichi can still see, even if he’s not looking directly at her. “I thought so. You were already pretty skinny, you know? I would hate to see you get sick.”

Shuuichi laughs nervously. “I think I’m okay, Akamatsu-san.” He smiles at her. “I’m taking care of myself.” The lie burns his lips, so he takes a drink of water to wash it away. Akamatsu doesn’t seem to notice, and she just nods, relaxing.

“Good. That’s good.”

Takahashi comes and gets their orders, and Shuuichi becomes painfully aware of the fact that he’s ordered the least amount of food. Nobody really paid attention to anyone else’s, he thinks, so it’s not like anyone says anything about it to him, but he’s still full of nervous energy while he waits for the food to arrive. It’s unclear to him if the others don’t talk to him again because they can tell he’s upset, or if he’s not talking to them on purpose, but he quietly listens to Momota telling Maki and Hoshi about the stars while unrest boils inside of him.

He shouldn’t be this sensitive. Akamatsu said he’d lost weight-- that should be a compliment, right? Or is he upset because he lied to her? Was it even a lie? Shuuichi breathes out, slow, shaky, and quiet. He’s doing what he has to do. If he eats, he gets anxious. So he eats what he can, and it keeps his anxiety bearable which is fine. He’s fine. He’s not lying to himself in a fancy restaurant because it’d be harder to admit how awful he feels right now. The door opens again far quicker than he’d expected, and Takahashi is setting plates full of delicious looking food in front of everyone. Harukawa looks at her plate of french toast-- dripping with syrup and dotted with white spots of whipped cream, bejeweled with bright red berries-- like it’s prey and she’s a starving predator. Toujou gently spreads butter on a slice of toast mottled with seeds and dried fruit, takes a bite delicately. Shinguuji and Amami laugh when they knock elbows, and Shinguuji dips his spoon into the yolk of his egg, golden spilling out onto the clean white plate. Shuuichi uses his spoon to wipe yogurt and granola off of a chunk of persimmon and carefully takes a bite. He can’t even taste it.

“Amami-kun,” Shuuichi looks over to him, and Amami turns to look at him, a curious look on his face. “Do you know where the restroom is?”

“Oh, just turn left when you leave this room and keep going.” Amami smiles at him. “I’ll make sure nobody eats your food.”

Shuuichi laughs, hoping it doesn’t sound as nervous to Amami as it does to him, and stands up. Momota shoots him a questioning look, twisting in his chair to look at him even as he walks behind the chair.

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Shuuichi gives him a smile, and Momota just nods, turning back to his omelet. Shuuichi walks out of the room and down the neat, cream and chestnut colored hall in a daze, almost walking into the door to the bathroom when he reaches it. Instead, he tugs the door open and steps inside. It’s perfectly clean and gorgeous, dark floors and a cream laced with black countertop at the sink, a candle burning beside a vase holding just a single, white rose. Shuuichi looks at himself in the mirror and has to look away, burying his face in his hands, because he starts crying. Hot tears flow into his palms, and he draws in a shuddering breath to keep himself calm.

It’s so stupid, but Shuuichi can’t stop thinking about his friends, digging into plates laden with food and smiling at each other, laughing. He can’t get it out of his head, how they’re all having fun and relaxing and he’s crying in a bathroom for no reason. He has no reason to be sad. His chest shakes and protests when he breathes deeply again, but he’s aware of himself that he at least recognizes that he’ll be a lot worse off if he stops breathing normally. The other day in Kiibo and Ouma’s dorm room flashes to life in his mind, and he sobs quietly, fingers sliding up to pull at the roots of his bangs. He’s so dramatic. People keep doing nice things for him and all he does is cry and cry and cry because he’s an ungrateful burden. A waste of their time. Shuuichi hiccups, eternally grateful that nobody else in the restaurant needed to use the bathroom right now. If a stranger walked in on him like this...

Or if one of his friends did. Shuuichi whimpers pathetically and resists the urge to pulls his hair out in frustration. Nobody wants to see him like this, weak and whiny and ugly and ungrateful and pathetic and annoying. They’d care for him, because they’re good people and they’d feel bad for him, but there’s no way anyone would want to deal with his sh*t.

But Shuuichi can’t help but hope for the door to open, for Momota or Kiibo or Amami or Ouma or anyone who cares to walk in and hold him close, tell him it’s okay. He wants it so badly that it aches, his heart swollen and painful in his chest, made worse for how much he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. Shuuichi stands in the bathroom, salty tears dripping onto the clean countertop, sobbing quietly, but nobody comes. He’s alone until he pulls himself together, wipes off tears with a damp paper towel, and walks back into the room. Momota asks if he’s feeling alright, and Shuuichi says there was a line.

--

10/17

--

Shuuichi buttons the last button on his shirt and brushes his hair back with his hands, fingers tangling in the knots. He frowns, then tries again, his hand pulling through without much trouble. It’s about time he got a haircut, he thinks. Shuuichi takes the two steps to the door of his mini-bedroom and starts to turn the handle.

“...worried about him.” A girl’s voice (Harukawa’s voice?) filters through the door, and Shuuichi freezes.

“Do you think he’s sick?” Momota sounds so upset, so desperate, that Shuuichi almost chokes on it.

“I don’t know.” Harukawa pauses, and he voice is closer when she talks again. “We can’t just ignore it. He’s not getting better.”

Momota’s sigh is loud and audible, even through the door. “f*ck, I know. What do we do, Harumaki? I don’t think he’d listen if we just confronted him...”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Who are they talking about? “Akamatsu’s worried as well, she’s said as much. Would he listen to her?” Shuuichi gets a sinking feeling in his gut.

“I don’t know.” Momota groans. “I don’t know! We don’t even know what’s wrong!”

“Quiet.” Harukawa’s voice drops, so low Shuuichi has to strain to hear it. “He’ll wake up.”

Shuuichi blinks, less surprised than he thinks he should be. They’re worried about him?

“Sorry...” There’s a rustling in the other room. “I’ll just... ask him if he needs anything from me. If I can help at all. Or something. I don’t know if he’ll actually tell me what’s going on, but I can’t... I can’t just keep seeing him like this.”

“Hmm.” Footsteps. Is she pacing? “Yeah. He’s going to be up soon. We should stop.”

“Yeah.” There’s silence on the other side of the door, and Shuuichi counts to forty before opening the door. He pretends to be surprised to see Harukawa.

“Ah, Harukawa-san? I didn’t realize you were here...” He thinks his act is convincing, even though Momota looks startled to see him up.

“Oh, hey, Shuuichi! I thought you’d still be asleep.” Momota laughs, and if Shuuichi didn’t already know why he was acting so nervous, he’d certainly be suspicious now.

“Aren’t we going to breakfast?” Shuuichi tilts his head, ignoring the fact that he would actually rather not got to breakfast. “It is Wednesday, right?”

Momota blinks and glances at Harukawa. “Yeah! Yeah, it is. Let’s go!” He straightens up a bit more and marches over to the door, stepping into his shoes.

“Ah, wait, Momota-kun!” Shuuichi hurries over to him. “I still have to get socks, and my shoes have laces...”

Momota freezes, then laughs, relaxing. “Oh, sorry, Shuuichi! We’ll wait, right, Harumaki?”

Harukawa nods, and Shuuichi focuses on the fact that they care and not the fact that they’ve started to see through him.

Chapter 5: 10/20 - 10/27

Chapter Text

10/20

--

“Thanks, Kiibaby! Even though you drive like a grandma!” Ouma hops out of the car before it's even at a complete stop. Shuuichi waits until Kiibo shifts into park.

“I just didn't want you behind the wheel, Kokichi.” Kiibo sighs and massages his temple with one hand. “Call me when you need a ride back.”

“O~kay!” Ouma grins wider when Shuuichi steps up onto the sidewalk next to him. “Bye!”

“Thank you, Kiibo-kun. I really appreciate it.” Shuuichi smiles at him through the open car window, and Kiibo smiles back at him.

“It's no trouble at all, Saihara-san. You wouldn't have made it here alive if he'd driven.” Kiibo throws a pointed glance at Ouma. “Have fun.”

Shuuichi nods, and Kiibo drives away from the entrance to the movie theater, car quickly disappearing into the parking lot.

“Are you really that bad of a driver...?” Shuuichi almost doesn’t want to ask.

Ouma giggles. “No, I’m an expert. I’ve never crashed, not even once!” Suddenly, Shuuichi feels a hand around his, and when he looks down, Ouma’s pale fingers are wrapped around his hand. Shuuichi feels heat rising to his cheeks as Ouma starts walking towards the theater, tugging him along. He’s fairly sure Ouma’s lying about never being in a crash, but he hopes he’s telling the truth.

“O-Ouma-kun, slow down...” Shuuichi has to hurry to keep up with Ouma as he yanks the door open and pulls Shuuichi in behind him.

“Keep up, Saihara-chan! I wanna have time to get snacks before the movie.” Ouma slows down a bit anyway, their hands still linked as they walk side by side. “Hey, Saihara-chan?”

“What is it, Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi looks down at him, and he's got a curious look on his face.

“What kind of food do you like, anyway? I don't think I've seen you eat anything but fruit.” Ouma's voice is light enough that Shuuichi knows it's an innocent question, but his heart still beats faster when he struggles for an answer.

“Ah... I get an upset stomach easily, so I only really like lighter foods...” Shuuichi looks to the side. “Melon is my favorite, though.” It's not a lie, not anymore, but when Shuuichi was a kid, his favorite food was taiyaki with strawberry jam and ice cream inside. His uncle would come home from work, tired and unhappy, but he'd smile when he saw Shuuichi. On Friday nights, or when his uncle had solved a case, or Shuuichi had done well on a test, they'd sit on the floor in front of the TV and eat taiyaki with sticky fingers until late at night.

Ouma doesn't say anything for a solid ten seconds, then perks up and starts dragging Shuuichi towards a food counter, giggling. “We'll get a lot of candy then, Saihara-chan! It's basically the same thing as fruit, anyway.” Ouma stops at the counter and leans forward, chest height with it.

“How can I help you?” The man serving them looks incredibly bored.

“I'll get a large grape panta, a medium popcorn, and one of these!” Ouma holds up a bag of fruit gummies. He turns to Shuuichi, grinning. The purple of the packaging makes his eyes shine brighter.

Shuuichi realizes he expects him to order something. “Ah... I'll have a medium diet co*ke, please.” The man nods and enters it into the register, but Ouma pokes his side.

“It's a long movie, Saihara-chan! You're going to get hungry if you don't get anything to eat.” He leans on his arm slightly, and Shuuichi looks away, face red.

“I won't...” It seems to satisfy Ouma, at least, because he takes the popcorn from the man at the counter and starts off towards the theater, food precariously balanced and hand still in Shuuichi's. Shuuichi struggles not to spill his drink, stumbling after Ouma towards the theaters.

“Don't we need to get tickets?” Shuuichi is feeling mildly overwhelmed at Ouma's apparent need to get into the theater as fast as possible, but Ouma seems completely unaware of his confusion.

“Nope!” Ouma turns around and grins at him, walking backwards. “I got 'em online!” He turns back around, slowing at the stand with a worker behind it. He lets go of Shuuichi's hand to fish his phone out of his pocket, and Shuuichi misses the warmth of his hand. He awkwardly sticks his hand in his pocket, then pulls it out again, hoping Ouma doesn't notice his dilemma.

“I hope you like the movie...” Shuuichi shifts on his feet. “I've heard it's really good.” Shuuichi doesn't have any idea what kind of movies Ouma likes, but this one interested him a lot, so he figured he'd give it a shot.

Ouma looks back over his shoulder, smiling. “I'll like any movie that I see with my beloved Saihara-chan. C’mon!” He extends his hand again, and Shuuichi gingerly takes ahold of it. He's still surprised at how soft Ouma's hands feel, smaller and warmer than his own. Shuuichi hopes his palm isn't sweaty.

Ouma walks much slower this time, leisurely heading in the direction of the theater. Shuuichi is glad for the change in pace, because he’s kind of worried that he would have dropped his soda if they’d kept it up. The way they're standing, Ouma’s arm is pressed almost flush with his side, and warmth emanates off of him, soaking through Shuuichi’s hoodie and into his chest. It feels like a sunbeam, like Shuuichi's arm is caught in the light from an open window. Shuuichi tries to walk a little closer to him, praying that he doesn’t notice the increased proximity. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, and Shuuichi lets his face slip into a smile. This is nice.

The theater is dark when they walk in, dim lights illuminating the stairs up to the seats with a eerie green glow. It’s completely empty, too; Shuuichi chose a matinee because he didn’t want to have to deal with more people than necessary and figured Ouma wouldn’t mind a quiet theater. Shuuichi glances over to him and he's still smiling, paused at the start of the stairs.

“Where do you want to sit, Saihara-chan?” He looks at Shuuichi, grinning. “I like the front.”

Shuuichi tries not to grimace. He hates having to crane his neck up to look at the screen, but if Ouma prefers it...

“Sure.” Shuuichi turns to head that way, but Ouma has a firm grip on his hand, and he isn’t moving an inch.

“I was lying, obviously! Nobody actually likes the front of the theater.” Shuuichi looks back at him and he’s rolling his eyes, the dim lights below reflecting off of them, mixing dim green and deep violet together. “Let’s go to the very top!”

Shuuichi fights back a smile as Ouma starts to tug him up the stairs to the top. He’s not sure why he’s in such a good mood today, but he suspects it has something to do with the other boy. Even though he’s childish and annoying at times, he just... lights up a room. Even in the dark of the theater, commercials flickering on the screen, Ouma sucks up all of his attention. It's like he glows, stands out more than anything else. Shuuichi fixes his eyes on the back of his head as he shimmies along the seats with him, almost running into him when he suddenly stops.

Ouma plops down into a seat and looks up at Shuuichi, teeth glinting in the light. Shuuichi smiles back and sits down next to him, carefully lowering himself onto the seat, trying not to spill his drink. He pauses when he feels the armrest between them slide upward a little.

“Hey, Ouma-kun...” Shuuichi sticks his drink into the other drink holder, the one not between them. “The armrest is slipping.” He gently pushes it back down, trying not to hit Ouma with it.

“Is it broken?” Ouma asks, watching it pop back up after Shuuichi tries in vain to press it into place. “Wow, Saihara-chan, we've been here for five minutes and you've already broke something!” Ouma leans over, setting the popcorn and his drink down, the bag of candy crinkling in his lap as he crushes it slightly.

“I-I didn't--” Shuuichi swallows, frowning. Ouma knows he didn't actually break it, right?

“Just put it up, Saihara-chan!” Ouma pulls the armrest so that it slots between the chairs, leaving no boundary between the two of them. Shuuichi is grateful for the darkness of the theatre, because it probably hides his blush better than any other lighting would have. He tries to calm his heart, which is beating much too far despite the fact that he's not panicking or anything like that. He steals a glance at Ouma, who’s looking at him with an expression of amusem*nt, head tilted and smile wide.

Shuuichi drags his gaze away, and he chooses to watch the entrance instead. He doesn't wait for long before a triangle of light pours out from behind the barrier, and a family with small children walk inside, kids giggling and whispering excitedly. Shuuichi feels oddly relieved, suddenly all too aware of how weird it would have been to be alone in a movie theater with just Ouma for several hours. The family settles down closer to the front, and an elderly couple sit down near them a few moments later, popcorn in hand. Shuuichi leans back in his seat, relaxing as the movie starts to play, colorful and loud in the theater. Ouma doesn’t even seem to acknowledge how close they’re seated together; if Shuuichi shifted even an inch, they’d bump shoulders. Instead, when Shuuichi sneaks a glance at him, he looks to be fixated by the movie, eyes glued to the screen and only moving his body to bring his straw to his lips. Shuuichi watches the shadow of panta move up the straw, sees Ouma’s throat bob when he swallows. He looks away and thinks about the bright, animated movie they’ve come to watch, actively trying not to think about how easily he could scoot over and lean against Ouma, feel that warmth in full.

Now that he’s actually looking at it, the movie’s pretty good, too. It’s some sort of kids mystery movie, with a boy detective names Angus running about on screen trying to solve a murder on a train. Even though it’s good, Shuuichi keeps finding his eyes unfocused, thoughts far away. It’s cold in the theater, but the jacket he wore is pleasantly warm, and he can still feel heat coming off of Ouma beside him. He wraps his fingers around his soda cup to keep him awake, the cold, wet sensation making him shiver. Ouma glances over at him, and Shuuichi smiles sheepishly.

Ouma doesn’t say anything, but he reaches into the bag of gummies and pulls one out, lifting it towards Shuuichi’s lips. Shuuichi freezes, confused, but he opens his mouth obediently when the candy touches his mouth. The sweet taste of artificial grape melts on his tongue. He gives Ouma what he hopes is an appropriately bewildered face, but Ouma just grins wide and giggles silently. He turns back to the movie, but reaches into the bag again, feeding Shuuichi another gummy, this one melon flavored. Shuuichi is pretty sure he should feel insulted (he’s being fed, like a small child, or a dog), but he just watches Ouma grin at him, eyes on the screen but his attention clearly on Shuuichi. He doesn’t try to give Shuuichi any more candy, thankfully, but Shuuichi can feel his leg touching his, their shoulders bumping. In the process of distracting Shuuichi with food, Ouma must have scooted closer.. Shaking his head, Shuuichi turns his attention back to the movie, when Angus is confronted by... a crab?

Even though it’s the climax of the film and quite loud, he finds himself drifting off. It’s too comfortable, too warm next to Ouma, and he's letting his eyes slide shut before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, after all... The shouts and rumbling on screen blends together with the soft sounds of Ouma’s breathing beside him, low and steady, and Shuuichi slips into blackness.

--

Shuuichi is warm, and comfortable. He’s lying down somewhere, his side resting on something soft, but it’s bright, red shining from the other side of his eyelids. He opens one eye, and immediately shuts it again, too-bright for his sleepy heavy eyes. Why are there so many lights on? Isn’t it supposed to be dark in a movie theater?

A movie theater. Shuuichi opens his eyes again, wincing at the brightness, and realizes that the movie must be over, since the house lights are back up. He’s lying down, strangely, and where ever it is, it’s so nice he could almost just fall back asleep. His eyes start sliding shut again, threatening to let him do just that, but a light touch on his head startles him into awareness.

“Saihara-chan, it’s time to wake up.” Ouma’s voice is much, much quieter than normal as he gently cards his hand through Shuuichi’s hair, cool fingers soothing against his scalp. Shuuichi blinks in the light as he opens his eyes, slowly straightening up. As soon as he moves, Ouma pulls his hand back, tucking it back beside his leg, like he's scared of touching him when he's awake. But, when Shuuichi looks at his face, Ouma’s just grinning as usual.

“Did I...?” Shuuichi can’t believe himself. Not only did he fall asleep in the middle of a movie he suggested, but he laid down on top of Ouma? His ears and cheeks burn with vicious heat, and he looks down at the dirty theater floor.

Ouma giggles, and Shuuichi tries not to look back up at him. “Yeah, you fell asleep right on my shoulder, Saihara-chan!” Ouma does not mention the fact that Shuuichi also laid down on him, and Shuuichi is infinitely grateful for that.

“Sorry, Ouma-kun, I didn’t mean to...” He’s not even sure what exactly he didn’t mean to do. Probably, he didn’t mean to get in Ouma’s personal space and ruin the movie for him. Shuuichi's cheeks burn, and he resists the urge to cover his face with his hands.

“Aww, are you embarrassed?” Ouma leans forward, his shoulder pressing into Shuuichi's chest just a little. Shuuichi holds his breath, frozen in place, Ouma's face impossibly close to his. He can see his eyelashes curled above his eyes, the violet glow of his eyes, his pink lips... and Ouma pulls back suddenly, his face tinged with the barest hint of a blush.

“You missed the end, you know.” Ouma stands up, stretching his arms out behind his head. “The boy detective dies.”

“What?!” Shuuichi blinks, startled. “But it's a kid's movie!” He pauses, reconsiders who he's talking to. “Unless you're lying?”

Ouma tips his head back and laughs, any trace of strangeness from Shuuichi falls asleep long gone. “Wow, you got me, Saihara-chan!” He grins at him, lips pulling up enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

--

10/23

--

“Hoshi-kun, could you pass me a towel?” Shuuichi holds the dripping wet beaker over the sink, glancing over his shoulder to look at Hoshi. He nods walks around the table to where Shuuichi's standing, passing him the towel. Shuuichi turns back to the beaker in his hand and carefully dries it, wiping drops of water off of the shining glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hoshi where he leans against the counter, watching him. Shuuichi sets the beaker down in the box full of them and wipes the last traces of water off of his hands, dropping the damp towel in the sink when he's done.

“Did you need something...?” Shuuichi doesn't want to be rude, but he feels awkward with Hoshi just standing there and watching him, especially since he's got a dark look on his face.

Hoshi sighs, then folds his arms over his chest. “How've you been, Saihara?” He stares straight into Shuuichi's eyes, and it feels almost as if he's just pinned Shuuichi down under one of the microscopes.

“I-I’m good!” It comes out as a squeak more than anything.

“Really?” Hoshi sighs, shifting on his feet. “Because it doesn't look like it.”

Shuuichi stares at him and swallows, unsure of what to say. He feels paralyzed, tied down to the spot. Hoshi’s eyes are boring a hole through his skull.

Hoshi waits a few moments, presumably for an answer, before signing against and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You look sick, kid.” He says it like a fact, even though Shuuichi can't really believe what he's saying. He doesn't look sick. He looks... smaller, slimmer. It wasn't like he was doing anything for aesthetic reasons, but Shuuichi wasn't blind to how he looked, either. This was better. There was less of him to be a burden, less of him to get in the way, less of him to ruin other people's lives.

“I'm not sick...” Shuuichi looks away, fidgets with his bangs uncomfortably. “Thanks for your concern, though.” It feels wrong to just dismiss Hoshi. After all, he is genuinely looking out for Shuuichi.

“You know, I made some pretty bad choices in high school.” Hoshi's voice is quieter, and Shuuichi looks up to see that he's even more somber than before. “I don't think they're the same mistakes as you're making right now, but back then I kept thinking I had to do those things, that there was no other option, that I couldn't stop. I wish somebody had talked to me about it before I'd crossed the point of no return.”

Shuuichi swallows even though his mouth is dry. “Hoshi-kun, you're here now, though. I don't think you're... irredeemable.”

Hoshi snorts. “I went to prison, Saihara. I'm a completely different person, in more bad ways than good.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Something tells me that the point of no return for you isn't prison.”

Shuuichi has no idea what he means. “What does that mean?” He leans against the lab table behind him, suddenly unsteady on his feet. His mind is a million miles away, and it's like he's a character on TV, not even real.

“It means... Look, Saihara, I don't want to assume, but it sure seems like you're on a steep decline.” Hoshi tugs down his beanie, and Shuuichi finds himself missing his old hat. “Whether it's that you're hiding something medical, or it's self-inflicted, or it's stress, or something else entirely, I won't guess, but either way you're hurting yourself by not trying to get help.”

Shuuichi doesn't respond. He doesn't do anything. He stands there, looks at the floor, and pretends that if he doesn't answer Hoshi he'll go away.

“Sorry,” Hoshi's voice is noticeably softer. “I know it's harsh, but I think you needed to hear it. You have my number, right? Call me if you need anything.” Hoshi pulls himself off of the counter he'd been leaning against and takes a few steps towards the exit of the biology lab.

“Thank you, Hoshi-kun.” Shuuichi isn't going to call him because he isn't sick and therefore does not need any help, but he appreciates it. His head is still far, far away from his body, but he acknowledges Hoshi's faint smile as the older man exits the lab, and he's vaguely aware of the icy cold of the for beneath him as he sinks down to his knees. He shifts, hugging his knees to his chest, and just breathes. It feels like he's been holding his breath throughout the whole conversation with Hoshi, and now his lungs want to catch up, quick hurried gasps while sick and point of no return taunt him, guilt and embarrassment flooding his senses. Shuuichi squeezes his fingers around his calves as his heart races with his breath to see who can make him cry first, and they tie. This is so stupid, so pointless, so dumb. Who freaks out about someone being concerned? Shuuichi wonders if he had had this panic attack (he wonders if that's really what it is, but it's the same as in the stairwell) a few minutes earlier, would Hoshi have stopped to comfort him? Would he hold his shoulders and ask him to breathe? Would Shuuichi deserve it if he had?

He sits there for what feels like hours but must be minutes, his breath ragged and painful in his ears, until he had enough presence of mind to make himself breathe. He taps out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 against the floor with each inhale and each exhale, eyes shut and the knees of his pants damp with tears. When he finally stands up, his legs ache and he gets a head rush so violent it sends him stumbling against the lab table, sweaty hands wrapped around the unforgiving surface to try and save his back from being smashed up against the edge. It takes a few minutes for his vision to clear, and when it does, he takes off towards the dorms like his life depends on it.

--

Shuuichi winces at the loud noise the door makes when he shuts it behind him, but he still leans against it gratefully, glad to be out of the open where anyone can see how much of a mess he is. He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath, his heart already threatening to dive back into panic mode with how hard it's beating.

“Shuuichi?” Momota's voice is tender and cautious, but it still startles Shuuichi, his eyes flying open and whole body tensing up. “Are you okay?”

He doesn't say anything, just freezes. His mind is going a million miles an hour, flickering between hide! hide! hide! and wanting desperately to launch himself forward and have Momota hug him. He settles somewhere between, and he hides his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“sh*t. Okay, you're okay, you're safe, okay?” Momota sounds hesitant, but it's still calming. “Can I hug you?”

Shuuichi nods and suddenly Momota's arms are wrapped around him tight, gently tugging him away from the door. Shuuichi hiccups into his chest, not exactly sure when he started crying again or why but he's still definitely crying, tears soaking into Momota's t-shirt. He lets Momota guide him over to his bedroom and sit him down on the bed, still hugging him.

“Hey, it's alright, bro. You're gonna be okay.” Momota says into his hair, one hand gently rubbing his back, and Shuuichi tries to match his frantic, shaky breaths to Momota's slow, deep ones. It works well enough, his heart calming down to a normal-ish speed once his breathing does. He wiggles his hands away from his face and maneuvers them so he's sort of hugging Momota back. It's nice; Momota is warm and whispering comforting things to Shuuichi, keeping him anchored. It makes Shuuichi painfully aware of how much harder it was trying to get out of the panic alone, even just enough for him to get out of the lab and over to the dorms.

It seems like Momota's waiting for Shuuichi to relax, because when he does, he pulls away just a little, keeping one arm around Shuuichi's shoulders. He's still rubbing his back, looking at him with a face full of concern.

“Doing any better?” His voice is so heavy with worry that it sounds almost wrong. Shuuichi looks at the floor, beyond where his feet dangle off the side of the bed.

“Yeah. Thanks, Momota-kun.” Shuuichi takes a deep breath, fighting back embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize.” Momota leans in, giving him another quick squeeze. “You're my best friend, right? You gotta come to me when you need help, ‘cause that's what friends are for, okay?”

Shuuichi nods and has to shut his eyes to hide a completely different kind of tears. Momota ruffles his hair with his free hand, a ghost of his normal grin on his face.

“Do you still wanna go to training tonight?” He asks like it's just a normal question, but Shuuichi can hear him asking would it help? and would you rather rest? underneath the surface.

He makes himself smile at Momota, and for some reason, just acting happy makes him feel slightly better. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

--

10/25

--

Shuuichi watches nervously as Hoshi moves around him to the back of the lab room, grabbing a piece of paper from the bin full of it. Ever since Tuesday, Shuuichi’s been dreading the lab period today. Hoshi didn’t see him freaking out after, but he still felt awkward about it, scared that if he said the wrong thing or moved too fast, Hoshi would figure him out or start talking about how he looked sick again.

“Is something wrong, Saihara-kun?” Gokuhara blinks at him from where he’s standing to Shuuichi’s left, his finished lab paper on the table in front of him, next to Shuuichi’s unfinished one.

“Ah, no, I was just thinking about something else...” It’s not really a lie, Shuuichi supposes. He always feels extra awful when he has to lie to Gokuhara, for some reason, most likely the other man’s honesty.

“Well, Gonta thinks Saihara-kun shouldn’t think about things that make him sad.” Gokuhara taps his pencil on Shuuichi’s paper. “Especially when there is bugs to think about!”

Shuuichi chuckles lightly and picks up his own pencil, returning to the task at hand. It shouldn’t take him that long; all he has to do is make a neater data table and write his conclusion. Biology was easy enough, compared to some of his other classes, and he was lucky to have Hoshi and Gokuhara as his lab partners. Both of them, Gokuhara especially, seemed to have a knack for this kind of thing. Shuuichi begins to draw a table, sketching out the lines with his pencil lightly, trying to keep them as straight as possible.

“Eeeeeek!!” A loud screech that Shuuichi suspects is Iruma startles him enough that his pencil jumps across the paper, making a dark diagonal mark. He sighs, turning it around to erase it.

“W-What is that ugly thing? Somebody squish it, it wants to bite my boobs!” Iruma sounds more alarmed than usual, so Shuuichi turns around, only to blink in surprise. Iruma has climbed up onto her group’s lab table and is pointing one shaking finger at what appears to be an incredibly large spider on the floor beneath her. Shuuichi’s fairly certain he’s never seen a spider of that size before in his entire life.

“Iruma-san, no!” Gokuhara rushes over. “You can’t squish him! He’s beautiful!” Gokuhara squats down next to the spider, a fond look on his face.

Shuuichi sighs, and he walks in that direction as well. He watches as Iruma scrambles back on the table, sweating profusely.

“You don't want to hurt bugs, right?” Gokuhara looks angry, which is never a good sign. “Right?”

“She's not going to hurt the spider, Gokuhara-kun.” Shuuichi approaches carefully, hands out. “Why don't we take it outside, so it can be free?”

Gokuhara brightens up a bit, nodding. “Yes! Gonta thinks that's a great idea!”

Iruma makes a weak whimpering noise. “Just... keep it away from me.” She's kind of in a compromising position, but Shuuichi does his best to ignore it. The spider is ambling towards the table, apparently unaware of the conflict around it.

“Alright, I'm going to get a plastic cup... Gokuhara-kun, can you make sure it doesn't hide under anything?” Shuuichi waits until Gokuhara nods, then he turns towards the cabinet next to Iruma’s table and opens it. Luckily, there's a stack of small cups along with the other supplies, and Shuuichi reaches up on his tiptoes to grab one. When he turns around, Iruma is sprawled across the table and making strange noises, and Gokuhara is crouched down in front of the spider, smiling fondly.

Shuuichi sighs, and walks as close to the spider as he dares. “Um, Gokuhara-kun, do you think you can get it to crawl into the cup?” Shuuichi holds out the plastic cup for him to take.

“Oh, yes! We can put him in the garden.” Gokuhara takes the cup from Shuuichi and sets it in front of the spider, which walks right in unprompted. Shuuichi shakes his head and tries not to laugh. Only Gokuhara would be able to get it to do that without any stress. He watches as Gokuhara carefully lifts the cup and carries it towards the door, flashing a smile at Shuuichi over his shoulder as he goes. Shuuichi offers a little wave back, grinning.

--

10/26

--

Shuuichi leans forward a bit to get a better look at his phone, trying to do math in his head. His breakfast, neatly entered into the app, is 64 calories, and that means he has... 436 for the rest of the day. He knows, deep down, that he's eating too little, but something about 500 seems neat, clean, even. It's a straight line drawn with a ruler, a bullet of truth slicing through confusion and conflict. It's comforting.

Shuuichi is pretty sure the dining hall is going to have soup today, since they've had it every Friday lately. He likes it a lot; it's broccoli, he thinks, very light and refreshing. He enters that in for lunch, just to get it over with. That's 175 calories, more or less, so he's got enough left to have dinner too. If he wants to. Maybe he shouldn't, since 239 is really low and... low numbers are nicer, even if they mean his head spins and whirls in the morning, threatens to send him down to the floor. He ate plenty yesterday, so--

“How come you're counting calories?” Momota's voice startles Shuuichi so badly that he almost tumbles out of the dining hall chair.

“I-I’m not!” Shuuichi locks his phone and shoves it into his lap, praying that Momota didn't see much.

“Really? Why else would you be using that app?” Momota sounded curious before, but now he sounds suspicious. Shuuichi swallows, averting his eyes.

“Why do you know what it does?” Shuuichi doesn't know how to fix this, so he deflects. He keeps his eyes on the edge of the table in front of him, counts out his breaths in his head so he doesn't lose track and spiral into the void of anxiety building inside of him.

Momota tilts his head. “Because I use it? I'm trying to build some muscle for when I'm in astronaut training.” He frowns. “Wait, you're not trying to lose weight, are you, Shuuichi?” Something in the way he says it makes Shuuichi think there's more meaning behind his words than first appears.

“No!” Shuuichi swallows down the remaining pieces of the lie, his stomach roiling with it. He hates lying, especially to Momota, but if he told the truth...

Momota relaxes, a sigh escaping his lips. “Good. You don't need to, Shuuichi. You really shouldn't lose any weight. At all.” He reaches out a hand, resting it on Shuuichi's shoulder.

Shuuichi nods, feeling shaky and off balance and weak. He doesn't say that he disagrees. He doesn't say that he weighed 104.2 this morning. He doesn't say that seeing that number made him feel like every was right with the world.

“Okay,” is what he does say, his mind buzzing with what he left unsaid.

--

10/27

--

“Agh, you got another ace...” Akamatsu shakes her head, smiling. “You’re too good at this game.”

Shuuichi swipes the cards, tucking them under his deck. “War is luck based, though...”

Akamatsu laughs as she puts down another card. “I know, but you always beat me! We should get some people together sometime and play BS of something.” She waits until Shuuichi sets down a card, and they both flip them, revealing Akamatsu’s king and his seven.

“Maybe you can bring them to study group?” Shuuichi pushes his card towards Akamatsu, already pulling another one off the top of his deck. “Yumeno-san wanted to play a while back, but we never have.”

“Hmm...” Akamatsu flips her card and hands it to Shuuichi, hers a two and his a six. “Ooooh, I can bring them to the camping trip!”

Shuuichi looks up at her and smiles at the excited grin on her face. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Akamatsu-san.” His smile grows when they flip over the cards. “Looks like it’s a war.”

Akamatsu groans, even though she’s still smiling, and she plays three more cards, turning a face-up jack last. “If we have any more wars, I’m pretty sure I’ll just lose.”

Shuuichi sets down his cards. “Ah, sorry...” He holds up his queen. “I take this one too...”

Akamatsu sighs and shakes her head, throwing her remaining cards down. “I give up! Geez, you’re lucky.” She leans back in the library’s chair, stretching.

“I don’t know that I am, though.” Shuuichi starts to think about the case he solved, the way he shakes and shudders at food, but he shuts down that train of thought. There’s no need to ruin this with just his thoughts, not when they’re both smiling and there’s sunlight shining in Akamatsu’s hair and he can feel a warm sense of peace all around him and the library smells like lavender and old books. Today should be a good day.

“Luck or not, we’re playing something different next time.” Akamatsu suddenly reaches across the table and ruffles his hair, startling him enough that he almost tips out of his chair.

“Akamatsu-san!” He ducks away from her and reaches up a hand to defend himself, but he’s still smiling and Akamatsu’s giggling on the other side of the table.

“Your hair was sticking up! I couldn’t help it, Saihara-kun!” She sticks her tongue out at him as he straightens his now messy hair, pressing it back down with his hands.

“I’m sure you could have...” Shuuichi shakes his head, laughing a bit, as he watches her collect the cards into a pile.

“Maybe!” She shoves the cards into a beaten-up box, clearly well used. “But it was just asking to be messed with.”

Chapter 6: 10/29 - 11/2

Chapter Text

10/29

--

Shuuichi carefully bites into his last piece of pineapple, wishing more than anything that Momota hadn’t insisted he come to the dining hall with him, but his normal excuses had fallen short. Momota had insisted that even if Shuuichi was tired, had homework, didn’t feel like wearing shoes, he should still come and spend some time with people outside of class. Shuuichi had, begrudgingly, given up. If he had stayed in the room, he could have had some salmon and vegetables left from the other day, could have maybe even sipped on some tea with honey, but the full dining hall, buzzing with conversation and thick with other students, renders him unable to eat anything but fruit. Shuuichi knows he’s only eaten 187 calories today as he swallows his last bite of food-- too little, even for him. He’s found that, without fail, eating less than around 350 guarantees him a horrible headache and a head full of fog the next day, more so than the usual.

“Hey, Saihara-kun?” Shuuichi jumps at the sound of Amami’s voice from across the table, then looks up at him. Amami’s standing up, holding an empty plate in his hand. “Would you come for a walk with me, after we put these up?” He gestures first to his own plate, then to Shuuichi’s.

“Oh, sure.” Shuuichi stands up, a bit puzzled but not worried. He’s walked with Amami before, usually between classes, but this is the first time Amami’s specifically asked him to. It’s hard for him to really wonder, because his mind keeps drifting off into a slip of nothingness, thoughtless and blank. It’s relaxing, sometimes, because if he isn’t really thinking about anything he’s not anxious, but at the same time, it’s really inconvenient for trying to figure anything out. Shuuichi follows Amami over to the dirty dish area and sets the plate down, turning to follow Amami towards the exit of the dining hall.

“So, how’s college?” Amami pushes open the door to the outside, cool air washing over Shuuichi.

“You say that like you're not in it too.” Shuuichi laughs. “It's good. I feel like the professors are being easy on us right now, though.”

Amami nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I think so too. Especially history.” He glances over at Shuuichi, his smile shifting into more of a frown.

Shuuichi looks away, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. “Is something wrong, Amami-kun?” It comes out quiet, like he's afraid to ask.

Amami sighs. “Yeah, I just... I'm worried about you.”

Shuuichi stops himself from telling him that everyone is, apparently. “W-Why?” Beside him, Amami stops walking and turns to him. Shuuichi is suddenly very aware of the fact that nobody else is on this sidewalk, that their only company is the chirping of bugs in the flower bushes alongside the path.

“Because you have an eating disorder, Saihara-kun.” Amami's face is dark, darker than Shuuichi's seen it. He swallows around the thump of anxiety in his breath, tries to look away but finds his eyes frozen in place.

“I-I...” Shuuichi wraps his arms around himself, feeling naked, vulnerable, fragile. If Amami says another word, the bones guarding his heart will shatter into a thousand pieces and he'll collapse into dust.

Worry falls over Amami's face, and he takes a step towards Shuuichi, careful, slow. “That was-- I didn't think that through. It's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay.” He reaches out a hand, then pulls it back. “Is it-- can I touch you?”

Shuuichi nods, and Amami's hand is guiding him by his shoulder, leading him to a bench and easing him down. Shuuichi draws in a shuddering, shaking breath and realizes he'd stopped breathing altogether.

“Sorry. That was really stupid of me.” Amami shakes his head and bites his thumbnail. “This isn't an interrogation, and I'm not angry, or upset, or trying to hurt you. But we still need to talk about this.”

Shuuichi nods and breathes. He's not blind to how Amami's breathing has become loud, slow, and deliberate beside him, and he copies it, pretending his throat isn't trying to rebel against him. Amami just sits with him for a few minutes as he breathes, his heart simmering down to a low him of anxiety, not the frantic cacophony of before. Shuuichi looks up from the spot on the sidewalk he'd been staring at, sees that Amami is watching him.

“Are you alright now?” Amami's voice is laden with guilt.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Shuuichi tugs the sleeves of his jacket so they cover his hands.

Amami sighs and rubs Shuuichi's back. “I should be the one apologizing.” He looks away from Shuuichi's face, to the ground. “Can I tell you a story?”

Shuuichi blinks, then nods. It's not what he expected, but it's better than... whatever this started as.

“I think I've mentioned it to you before, but I have twelve younger sisters.” Amami smiles. “I love them all, and when they get into trouble, it's my job as the older brother to keep them safe. But...” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than before. “I can't always do that. One of my sisters was in the hospital for a long time, because she'd been starving herself. I didn't see the signs and didn't say anything to her when I was worried. She almost died.”

Shuuichi swallows. “That's...”

Amami looks back at him, face somber, and Shuuichi shuts up, letting him finish. “She had a heart attack, and it was a miracle she survived. You... you can die from this, you know.” Amami stares Shuuichi straight in the eyes, and Shuuichi forces himself not to look away.

“I'm.. I'm not doing that. It's not the same.” Shuuichi can't pin down why, but it's different. He's not starving himself, he's just... managing his anxiety. This is just coping. It's not a problem.

“What's the difference, then?” Amami covers his face with the hand that isn't on Shuuichi's back still and groans. “I can see you, you know. You don't eat enough. You're disappearing.”

Shuuichi looks down, looks at anything other than the pain on Amami's face, the way his shoulders shake slightly and the press of his hand on Shuuichi's shoulder, like it'll keep him in place. He shuts his eyes, bites his lip, and lets himself, for one second, believe that what he's doing is something dangerous.

“I-I don't think I want to stop.” Shuuichi leans away from Amami. “I don't think I can.”

Amami doesn't say anything for a moment, then sighs, heavy and weary. “I know. I know, but I'm not asking you to just... get better. I know it's not that easy, just... will you try?” Shuuichi looks up at Amami again, sees tears in the corner of his eyes, glinting in the light of the sunset.

“Try?” It comes out as a whisper, a ghost of an answer.

“Yeah.” Amami wipes his eyes with his hand. “Eat a little more, and... go to the clinic. I'll go with you if that'd make it easier. To make sure you're not...” He doesn't complete the sentence, but Shuuichi knows what he meant.

He looks down at Amami's shirt instead of his face, like he can dive into the blue stripes and escape this conversation. “...after the camping trip.” He's not even sure what he's saying. “I'll go after the camping trip, if you coming with me.”

Amami nods, his head bobbing with more energy than it would have had he not been crying, and he pulls Shuuichi into a tight hug. Shuuichi wraps his arms around Amami carefully, realizing he needs this as much as Shuuichi does.

“Okay. Okay.” Amami breathes in, right by Shuuichi's ear. “You're not allowed to die, Saihara-kun.”

Shuuichi nods into his shoulder, even though it's awkward, and he's crying too now. “I won't. It's a promise.”

--

10/31

--

“Why is it so cold today? It's been nice all week!” Momota rubs his arms, covered only with a thin layer of green fabric.

“It's your fault for wearing that costume.” Harukawa glares at him, her arms folded over her chest. “Quit whining about it.”

Momota pouts, looking ridiculous in his alien suit. “It was forecast to be in the seventies!”

Shuuichi can't help but chuckle. “Do you want my jacket? You can wear it on the way to the party.” He starts to shrug off the heavy coat, but Momota stops him with a wave of the hand.

“No, it'd ruin the costume, Shuuichi. Yours too!” He gives him a look. “Not that Sherlock Holmes is really a costume for you. You're already a genius and a detective.”

Shuuichi tugs at the edge of the costume hat, looking at Momota's ridiculous silver shoes instead of his face. Akamatsu is gonna kill him for the hat, but it's important to the look. “I'm not either of those things, though...”

“Stop it.” Harukawa reaches over to him and whacks his hand away from his hat. “Don't wear that if you're just hiding behind it.”

Shuuichi laughs nervously, reaching up to adjust it out of his eyes. Momota nods in approval, and Shuuichi finds himself smiling for no reason, especially since he was just chided.

“Where's your car at, Harumaki?” Momota's looking around, a frown forming on his face. “I didn't think there was another parking lot over here.” He's right; there's not much of campus left at all. They've been walking for a lot longer than Shuuichi expected, and the cold is starting to get to his face, nipping at the exposed skin. He shoots a sympathetic look over to Momota, who's shivering.

“What car?” Harukawa raises an eyebrow at them. “I said I'd take you to the party with me, not that I'd drive.” She faces forward again, eyes set on the sidewalk ahead.

“What?!” Momota groans. “We're going to die! This isn't the right weather for a walk!” He throws an arm over Shuuichi's shoulder, and it throws Shuuichi enough balance enough that he nearly falls, Momota's grip the only thing keeping him up. “Shuuichi, share your body heat with me!”

“You're being dramatic.” Harukawa sighs. “This is nothing.”

“How much further, exactly, is it?” Shuuichi isn't sure that they're going to die, but he's really hoping that it's not miles away.

Harukawa sighs again, louder. “It's right there.” She points, her arms drawing a line to an unassuming building not too far ahead.

Shuuichi breathes a sigh of relief. Beside him, his arm still draped around Shuuichi’s shoulders, Momota grins wide enough that it’s like a neon sign in the corner of Shuuichi’s vision. His grip tightens, then releases, and Shuuichi stumbles to regain his balance. He watches Momota take a few steps ahead, shoes popping against the pavement, then turns around, face bright with energy.

“Let’s race! C’mon, Shuuichi, Harumaki!” With that, Momota turns back to face the building and starts to run, laughing as he goes. Shuuichi blinks in surprise, then looks to Harukawa. She glances over at him, then sighs, a small smile growing on her lips, then dashes off, catching up with Momota already. Shuuichi jumps into action, the end of his coat thumping against his pants as he starts to run after them.

Momota’s laughing breathlessly as Harukawa draws ahead of him, her pigtails trailing behind her. Shuuichi can tell he won’t be able to get close to where they are; he’s just not as fast as they are. It means he’s got a good view of when Momota picks up his pace to try and regain some of the lost ground, and Harukawa’s hair whips in a sudden gust of wind, smacking him across the face. It can’t be all that hard of a hit (it is hair, after all), but Momota still lets out a startled yelp, clawing hair out of his mouth and off of his face.

“T-That’s...” Momota pauses to gulp down air, still running. “That’s cheating, Harumaki!” He doesn’t actually seem bothered though, because he starts laughing right after, wheezy, breathless laughs that the wind carries back to Shuuichi, where he runs behind them. His chest is pounding with his heartbeat, but not in an unpleasant way for once. It feels good, the hit of his feet against the pavement, cold air against his face, the spin of the wind around him. A smile breaks across his face as Harukawa and Momota stop ahead of him, turning back at the entrance of the building to wait for him. Momota’s panting for breath, and Harukawa’s cheeks are flushed, but they’re both smiling as brightly as he is.

“Ha...” Shuuichi has to lean over on his knees when he finally stops, his head spinning with the exertion. “You two... way more in shape...”

Momota tips his head back and laughs, even though he’s out of breath himself. “You work out with us, you know!” He slaps Shuuichi on the back in the friendly way that he does, but it still knocks a little bit of air out of Shuuichi. “This just means we all need to train harder!” Harukawa nods beside him, her lips still turned up in a smile.

“We should go in.” She turns to the door, a plain, nondescript object.

Shuuichi nods, and she pushes the door open with one hand, letting the orange and purple lights inside spill out onto their feet. Harukawa steps inside first, and Shuuichi follows with Momota on his heels. The music washes over him, silly and upbeat and not really party music, but still fitting for the mood inside. The entire building's interior has been lined with black paper ghosts, swaying and rippling under orange, purple, and white lights. Fog oozes out from the corners, and black tables and chairs hug the walls, bordering the open dance floor. Closer to the back, one long table sits covered by an orange tablecloth and platters of food. Shuuichi tries not to look at it.

“Wow! Did the hospitality department really put this together?” Momota looks how Shuuichi feels-- amazed. This doesn't look like something college students could pull off.

“They did!” Shuuichi turns towards the familiar voice. “With the help of a few art students and Atua, of course.” Yonaga grins at them, her smile straining the painted-on cat whiskers decorating her cheeks.

“You did a really nice job.” Shuuichi glances around again, watches the way the paper ghosts drift along with the fog.

“Yeah, it’s awesome!” Momota grins at Yonaga, and Shuuichi can see his eyes glued to the cat ears on her head, silver triangles of fur rising out of her neatly braided hair.

“Oh, do you like them?” Shirogane walks up beside her, almost unrecognizable in a green wig and a white button-down shirt. “Angie-san asked for my help, so I made her a pair that matches her hair.”

“Atua told me to ask her, and he is never wrong!” Yonaga leans into Shirogane, her eyes sparkling, and Shirogane smiles, head angled down to look at her.

“Atua knows best.” The way Shirogane says it is almost a purr, and Shuuichi finds himself looking away.

“Since when are you a follower of Atua?” Harukawa’s giving them a skeptical look, and Shuuichi can’t blame her.

“Oh, Angie-san took me, Chabashira-san and Yumeno-san to visit the temple the other day! It was an enlightening experience.” Shirogane sighs, her eyes far away. “You should try it sometime.”

“Moving on,” Momota says, clearing his throat. “What are you supposed to be?” He waves a hand at Shirogane, who steps aside from Yonaga so that Momota can see better.

“You mean who! I’m Shion, from Higurashi?” Her voice is hopeful, and she looks from Momota to Shuuichi to Harukawa quickly. “The show? And games?” She waits for a moment, and Shuuichi realizes she’s waiting for a response from one of them.

“Ah, sorry, Shirogane-san. I haven’t seen it.” Shuuichi smiles apologetically, feeling a little bubble of guilt when Shirogane’s smile fades a little.

“It’s okay...” She takes a small breath, then brightens back up. “Why don’t you three go find everyone else? Angie-san and I were going to step outside for some fresh air.” When she says it, Shuuichi notices a faint blush on her cheeks, the sway in her step. Had they been drinking...?

“Sure! See you around!” Momota waves as they walk past them, opening the door and letting a gust of cold air push its way inside. Shuuichi shivers, even under his coat. The door shuts with a thud, and Shuuichi turns to look at Momota and Harukawa.

“Should we...?” He trails off, glancing downward. Truth is, he’s not really good at this kind of event. He hasn’t even been to a party big this big before, except for maybe his high school prom, which he spent hiding in the bathroom wishing he hadn’t come.

“Let’s go get something to eat!” Momota starts walking forwards, his head turned back to look at Shuuichi and Harukawa. “I’m starving!”

Harukawa sighs from beside Shuuichi. “I’m not. Saihara, come find Akamatsu with me.” She turns on her heels and promptly starts off in a completely different direction from Momota, and Shuuichi’s scrambling after her before he even has a chance to think about who he’s going with. He wonders, briefly, if Harukawa decided not to go with Momota in order to spare Shuuichi from the stress of eating, but he shakes that thought aside. Harukawa might think that he’s stressed, or sick, or having a hard time, but Amami’s the only one who knows that he has... issues with food. Because that’s all it is-- a little problem, on occasion, with food. Nothing more.

Harukawa is silent beside him, dressed as she normally is. Neither he nor Momota had actually expected her to dress up, and when Momota asked about it, she’d just glared at him and he’d stopped. Shuuichi smiles at the memory of the deer-in-the-headlights look on Momota’s face, the little squeak he’d made when he stopped talking. They both knew Harukawa would never actually hurt them, but she could glare daggers sharp enough to kill somebody.

Off in the crowd of dancing students up ahead, Shuuichi spots a familiar head of blonde hair, jumping up and down to the peppy song that’s playing now, a yellow and black striped headband tucked among the sandy locks. He taps Harukawa on the shoulder, and once she turns to face him, he points.

“I think I found her, Harukawa-san.” Shuuichi smiles when Harukawa nods and starts off in Akamatsu’s direction, and he follows close behind her. Akamatsu spots them before they’re even really on the dance floor, brightening up and waving a hand at them over the heads of the crowd.

“Hey!! Saihara-kun! Harukawa-san!” Akamatsu starts to pick her way through the people, turning sideways to fit through. There must have been someone dancing well enough for people to want to watch, since most of the group is clustered in a circle around something, not really dancing themselves. Akamatsu emerges, and Shuuichi finally sees her costume-- a knee length, black and yellow striped dress with a pair of tiny felt bee wings attached to the back. Akamatsu’s arms are bare, and Shuuichi hopes that she drove here rather than walk, because it’s going to be much colder by the time the party’s over.

“Hi, Akamatsu-san.” Shuuichi smiles at her. “I like your costume.”

She rolls her eyes. “I got it at the store last night, it’s not really impressive. You worked harder on yours.” She looks him up and down, purple eyes moving over him as he fidgets. “It turned out really nice! Although...” Her eyes stop at the hat, and Shuuichi starts talking before she can finish.

“It’s just for tonight!! It’s a trademark of Holmes, so I couldn’t just leave it out, and I knew you wouldn’t like it but I found the right kind of hat and--”

Akamatsu tips her head back and laughs, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Saihara-kun! As long as you’re not hiding behind it.” She leans forward and flicks him on the nose. Shuuichi takes a step back and manages to turn his head to the side before he sneezes, and when he looks up, both Akamatsu and Harukawa are laughing. Harukawa stops when she notices Shuuichi looking, but her glare doesn’t have its normal force behind it.

“So,” Akamatsu says once she’s stopped laughing, “What do you guys want to do now?”

“We could get something to drink?” Shuuichi doesn’t want to go near the food and drinks table, but his throat is starting to burn with thirst and he knows he’ll have a headache if he doesn’t drink anything the whole night.

“Ooh, good idea! I heard somebody spiked the punch.” Akamatsu winks, then starts off towards the refreshments table at an easy pace, keeping even with Harukawa and Shuuichi.

“R-Really?” Shuuichi isn’t sure how he feels about that, exactly. “But a lot of people here are underage...”

Akamatsu rolls her eyes, looking like she’s about to start laughing again. “Sheesh Saihara-kun, it’s a college party. What’d you expect?” She leans over to elbow him in the ribs. “You should relax a little. Halloween only comes once a year, right?” The orange of the lights makes her eyes look red, almost, and the yellow on her costume is the color of dark honey. Shuuichi nods, and he pretends the first thing he thought of was the illegality of it, not that alcohol has calories.

“I guess...” Shuuichi eyes the table suspiciously as they approach it, his gaze lingering on a bowl of opaque green liquid that’s glowing, situated next to a few bottles of soda and a jug of water. “Is that the punch?”

Akamatsu nods. “Mhm! The bowl has a thing at the bottom that sticks up and glows, isn’t that cool? Iruma-san made it for us!” She glances around the room, her lips pursed. “I haven’t seen her anywhere though...”

“Iruma-san is having... wardrobe issues.” Toujou all but materializes from behind Akamatsu and Shuuichi jumps nearly a foot in the air. “I didn't mean to startle you, but I noticed the three of you over here and thought I’d come to greet you. Welcome to the event planning class’s third annual monster mash.” A small smile spreads across Toujou’s face, and she gestures to the room around them just as they reach the punch bowl.

“It's amazing, Toujou-san!” Akamatsu looks over to Shuuichi, her eyes sparkling. “Right?”

Shuuichi nods furiously. “Yeah! It looks professionally done.” He glances to the side, watching Akamatsu ladle punch into four cups. He doesn't have it in him to tell her no, even though the sweet smell of it is giving him a headache before he even has the cup in his hands. Harukawa’s eyes are on him, and he straightens up, trying not to show anything.

Toujou's smile grows, and she nods to them. “If there's any way I can serve you tonight, just let me know and I'll complete your request to the best of my ability, as one of the hosts. I'm sorry to leave so quickly, but I believe Hoshi-kun just arrived, and he asked me earlier to find him when he got here.” She looks over to the entrance, and Shuuichi can't see Hoshi, but he doesn't doubt her. How she saw him over everyone's heads in the first place is a mystery.

“Oh, here, I got you some punch.” Akamatsu holds out a cup to Toujou. “You're not driving, right?”

Toujou blinks in surprise but takes the cup. “No, a classmate drove here... Thank you, Akamatsu-san.” She takes the cup from Akamatsu carefully, her gloved hand wrapping around the cup.

“It's no problem!” Akamatsu smiles at her.

“What are you dressed as?” Harukawa gestures to Toujou's outfit with one hand, a long, frilly dress with many layers and beautiful, well-chosen colors.

“Ah, I wanted to dress in the Victorian style, and Shirogane-san was very excited to help me.” Toujou looks down at the dress, smiling. “It turned out wonderfully.”

Harukawa nods. “I like it.” She reaches over and takes a cup of punch from Akamatsu, still looking at Toujou’s outfit.

Akamatsu nods, the edges of her eyes crinkling with her smile. “Yeah, me too! Go find Hoshi-kun, now! And have fun, even if you're supposed to be serving everyone.”

Toujou nods and almost curtsies a little, turning back towards the entrance and weaving through the crowd. Shuuichi looks back to Akamatsu, who's picking up the two remaining cups of punch. The red plastic looks like blood in the lighting, the white inside a dim orange.

“Ah, I'm not sure I want--”

“C’mon, I know you're not driving. One cup? It's pretty weak.” Akamatsu pauses. “I mean, you don't have to drink this, but you should at least eat some food, and drink something other than water while you're here.” Her smile slips from excited to concerned. “You'll be exhausted if you don't.”

Shuuichi frowns, looking at the floor. “Who said I wasn't going to eat anything?” She's right, of course, but that didn't mean he could just admit to it. As far as he knows, Akamatsu just thinks he doesn’t eat because he’s stressed. It only takes a second before Shuuichi reaches out, taking the cup from her.

“I’m fine, Akamatsu-san.” As if to prove it, he takes a sip of the punch, almost choking on the sugary taste. It’s artificial and heavy, the taste of synthesized limes and vanilla ice cream swirling on his tongue with a prickle of something stronger. He swallows it, syrupy fluid slinking into his stomach to hide, and smiles at Akamatsu, like one sip of punch is going to prove to himself and everyone else that he never had a problem to begin with.

Akamatsu seems to buy it, miraculously, because she just laughs and drinks from her own cup. “Make sure you do eat something, especially if you have more than one cup of this stuff, okay?” She pauses, thinking. “Actually, you’ve never drank before, have you? Just don't’ have a second one at all.”

Shuuichi laughs, nodding. “I’ll be careful.” He takes another tiny sip of the punch, pretending he doesn’t love the way the sugar dances across his tongue, pretending he isn’t so hungry he could eat the whole buffet.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Shuuichi smiles as Akamatsu laughs, her head tilted and the lights falling across her face.

“I’ll make sure he keeps his word.” Harukawa nods in the corner of Shuuichi’s vision, her lips turned up slightly. “He’d probably forget if we left him alone.”

“Yeah, he would!” Akamatsu chuckles, and Harukawa takes a sip of her drink. Shuuichi feels mildly affronted, and he hides his embarrassment in his cup, swallowing another mouthful while trying his best to pretend he doesn’t enjoy it.

--

11/2

--

“Tenko thinks we need to keep the menaces on another campsite!” Tenko pauses, shakes her head. “No, another park!”

Amami sighs, and Shuuichi feels a pang of sympathy for him. “Chabashira-san, you don’t actually have to go if you don’t want to.” Amami massages his temples, green hair falling into his face.

“What?” Shuuichi watches as Chabashira reels back, as if punched. “But then who would protect Yumeno-san from all of the nasty boys?”

“Chabashira-san,” Shirogane says, one finger up. “We’ve already agreed to have the girls and boys in separate cabins. Nobody’s going to try anything. You know everyone here, right?”

Chabashira hesitates, frozen in place, then drops down into her chair with a thump, the table rattling in front of Shuuichi. “Fine.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You menaces better not try anything.” She looks to the side, frowning deeply.

Yumeno leans in and, quietly, murmurs something to Chabashira that Shuuichi only barely makes out. “Don’t worry, Tenko, I’ll use my magic to keep us safe.” Chabashira’s face lights up in a bright red blush, and Shuuichi looks away, feeling like he’s heard something he shouldn’t have.

“Alright, so,” Amami clears his throat, shuffling the papers in his hands. “Next we have to decide who’s riding with who tomorrow. As for who’s driving, me, Tsumugi-san, Hoshi-kun, and Toujou-san have all signed up. Shirgane-san, I think you said you already knew who was riding with you?”

Shirogane nods from her seat. “Angie-san, Chabashira-san, and Yumeno-san.” She smiles and they all wait patiently as Amami writes it down.

“Okay, sounds good.” Amami pauses, reading over something on his notes. “Y’know, I really wish the university didn’t require all of this to be written down...” He flips something over, frowning.

“Ooh, Amami-chan, me and Kiiboy can ride with you!” Ouma sits up straight, leaning forward towards Amami. Shuuichi looks at him, frowning. Had he only just started paying attention?

“That works with me.” Kiibo nods, then glances over at Ouma. “Although, I’d appreciate you asking me first, Kokichi.”

Ouma just giggles and leans back in his chair again. “So, Amami-chan? Can we?”

Amami flips the paper back over and writes it down. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Anyone else? My car is the biggest, so I can take up to seven people if need be.”

Shuuichi jumps when he feels Momota’s elbow in his side, looking over at him. Momota waggles his eyebrows and Shuuichi realizes what he’s getting at, and nods, smiling. A four-hour car ride with Ouma, Kiibo, Amami, and Momota, huh? Tomorrow’s going to be... wild.

“Me and Shuuichi’ll ride with you too!” Momota grins. “I’ll even bring beef jerky!”

“Momota-chan loves to have meat in his mouth!” Ouma chirps from the other side of the table, and even though it’s more crude than funny, Shuuichi has to raise one hand to his mouth to hide his smile when Momota turns beet red.

“Ouma-kun.” Amami rubs his temple again, eyes pressed shut and mouth a tight line. “Can you wait until we figure this out? This is the last thing we need to do.”

Ouma pouts, slumping down in his chair. Shuuichi thinks he could give someone whiplash with how quickly his emotions change. “Fine. But after this, we’re all gonna play a game, Amami-chan.”

“Sure.” Amami sighs. “Toujou-san, do you know who you want in your car?”

Toujou nods, a faint smile on her face. “Akamatsu-san and I discussed beforehand that she and Harukawa-san would like to ride with me.”

“Okay...” Amami writes it down, pen scratching against the paper. “Anyone else?”

“Um,” Iruma squirms in her seat, sweating. “I-I think that... I’m g-going to bless those three bimbos w-with my presence.”

“Oh, is that your way of asking nicely, you filthy whor*?” Ouma leans forward again, an ugly sneer on his face. “I can’t even tell you’re trying!”

Iruma squeals and blanches, tears building up in the corners of her eyes. “I-I-I--”

“It’s fine with me.” Harukawa isn’t looking at Iruma, her eyes instead on Toujou.

“Yes...” Toujou clears her throat. “Iruma-san can ride with us, if she likes.”

Amami pauses, shakes his head, and marks it down. “Alright, so... everyone else with Hoshi-kun? Does that work?”

Shuuichi glances around the room, watching as Hoshi, Gokuhara, and Shinguuji all nod, Gokuhara a bit more enthusiastically as the other two.

“Now we can play a game, right, Amami-chan?” Ouma stands up, jumping up and down. “Right? Right?”

Amami sighs, and Shuuichi thinks he mutters something about a headache. “Sure, Ouma-kun. We can play a game.”

“What are we going to play?” Akamatsu looks like she’s actually interested in playing. “We still don’t have any cards.”

“We could play never have I ever again.” Shinguuji puts a hand to his chin, pale fingers standing out on his dark mask. “I would love to learn more about all of you.”

“No, Gokuhara-chan would just win again!” Ouma shakes his head violently enough that Shuuichi’s worried he’ll hurt himself.

“We could play truth or dare?” Shuuichi’s more surprised that he said something than anyone else, and he jumps a little when he realizes everyone’s looking at him. “I mean, it’d be fun, and we could learn more about each other...”

“Oh, I like how you think, sh*tty-hara!” Iruma grins, her earlier hesitation gone, apparently.

“That does sound like fun.” Toujou nods, smiling. “Any objections?”

Nobody says anything, although Chabashira looks wary and Hoshi sighs. Shuuichi swallows, hoping he hasn’t just started something that will end poorly. He can’t help but feel like, if this goes sideways, it’ll have been his fault since it was his idea.

“Hey, bro,” Momota pokes him, his voice quiet. “Relax. It’ll be fun.” He stands up, his voice normal volume for him, which is a bit louder than anyone else. “I’ll go first! Truth or dare, Amami!”

“Huh? Oh, truth.” Amami blinks, and Shuuichi watches him as Momota thinks. Amami’s seemed stressed lately, and it wouldn’t surprise Shuuichi if some of it was his fault. As much as he’s tried to keep this to just himself, it keeps dragging people down, hurting them. Shuuichi’s chest aches when he thinks about it, so he focuses on anything else.

“Uhh... how many sisters do you have?” Momota looks a bit lost, and Shuuichi almost laughs.

Amami chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “Oh, that’s easy. Twelve.”

Iruma groans at the same time Akamatsu says, “Twelve?!” and Shuuichi does laugh at that, not trying to hold back when he sees Momota and Amami laugh too.

“Yeah, my parents were... busy.” Amami laughs again, even though Iruma is still groaning. “...what?”

“This is baby sh*t! When it’s my turn, I’ll ask a real question.” Iruma folds her arms over her chest and flips her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, it's Amami-kun's turn now, right?” Akamatsu laughs. “Usually whoever just got asked gets to go next.”

Iruma slumps down in her seat, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

Amami laughs uneasily. “Uh... Saihara-kun, truth or dare?” He turns to Shuuichi, and Shuuichi sits up straight in his chair, all eyes on him.

“Um...” He knows Amami wouldn't ask him about something related to his food issue, not in front of everyone else, but when he's been lying so often, it would feel wrong to say truth. “Dare.”

“Oh, Saihara-kun is brave!” Tsumugi leans forward in her chair, and she's not the only one looking at Amami expectantly.

“I dare you to sit in Momota's lap.” Amami doesn't even hesitate, a sly grin working its way onto his lips. “Until next time somebody asks you.”

Shuuichi looks to Momota, his face heating up, but Momota just looks amused, still grinning. Shuuichi stands up, pushing his chair out behind him. Momota leans back, patting his thighs.

“C’mon, Shuuichi. We're both guys.”

“Says the one who sucked dick in high school!” Shuuichi's back is turned so he can't see Ouma, but he does see Momota turn red. Shuuichi takes a deep breath, turns around, and sits down on Momota's lap. It's not really that exciting, actually. Momota's significantly warmer than he is, and it makes Shuuichi feel a lot taller, but that's about it.

“Whoa, Shuuichi, you're really light!” Momota's hand pats his head, and Shuuichi can feel Momota laugh.

“Uh.” Shuuichi looks down and to the side.

“It's your turn.” Harukawa's voice surprises him a bit, and when Shuuichi looks at her, she's smiling slightly, small enough he would miss it if he wasn’t looking closely.

“Oh. Right.” Shuuichi clears his throat, looking around the room. Everyone’s watching him except for Yumeno, who’s looking just off to his left, and Chabashira, who’s watching Yumeno. He already knows who he wants to ask, though.

“Truth or dare, Shirogane-san.” He smiles a bit when her face shifts to surprise, then a small smile.

“Oh, um, I’ll do truth.” She folds her hands in front of her on the table, fingers laced together.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done for a cosplay?” Shuuichi doesn’t let himself look away, even though he’s sure he’s turning red just asking. Off to the side, Iruma groans again.

“Oh, I had to stick a couple of socks in my underwear one time.” Shirogane holds one finger up. “But cosplay isn’t embarrassing to me at all! If I’m cosplaying a well-hung character, I have to fit the part.”

While Shirogane seems completely unaffected, she’s the only one. Akamatsu starts laughing, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, while Chabashira gives Shirogane the most betrayed look Shuuichi’s ever seen during a party game. Iruma squeals, then starts cackling, and everyone else is smiling, if not laughing. Shirogane hesitates, then laughs along with them, and Shuuichi finds himself smiling too.

--

Chapter 7: 11/3 (part 1)

Chapter Text

11/3

--

“But Amami-chan, I'll get lonely if Kiiboy’s up front!” Shuuichi can see crocodile tears forming at the corners of Ouma's eyes, shiny even in the cloudy weather.

Amami sighs. “Ouma-kun, I'm not trying to make this unpleasant for anyone, but if Kiibo-kun gets carsick, he should sit in the front where there's more windows.” Amami adjusts the sunglasses on his head, pushing them further into his green hair. “If you really want to sit next to someone, you can sit in the very back with them... there's less leg room back there, though.”

Ouma sniffles too loudly for it to be anything close to real, and he turns to Shuuichi, a watery frown on his face. “Saihara-chan will sit with me, right? He wouldn't leave me all alone?”

Shuuichi stares at him for a second before nodding. “That's fine with me. At least one of us would have to sit in the back anyway, right?” Shuuichi sees Amami's confirming nod, and he glances back to Ouma who seems... off. Maybe he's just doing a better job at faking his tears than usual, but it seems strange for him to be so insistent that someone sit with him. Shuuichi figures that he's either doing this to be as obnoxious as possible, or it's an important step in the setup of a prank. He's not sure which is worse.

“Alright, can we get going?” Momota leans against the side of Amami's car. “At this rate, we're going to be the last ones there.”

Amami nods, taking a step to the side and opening the driver's door. “Yeah, we should leave. Everyone remembered everything?”

Shuuichi nods, and he sees Momota do the same. Kiibo straightens up, smiling. “All set! I've never gone camping before, but Kokichi has so he helped me pack.”

Ouma sighs and looks off to the side, a sly grin on his face. “Yeah, I made sure he packed everything he needs.” Shuuichi doesn't believe a word of it, but he steps between Kiibo and Momota anyway, opening the car door and climbing inside.

Amami's car is spotless, save for stickers from various parks and sightseeing locations plastered all over the insides of the doors and the flat top of the dashboard. It's clear that the car is well loved-- everything is worn, but clean and undamaged. Shuuichi feels like he's invading Amami's private space when he squeezes past the two middle row seats and sits down on the back, behind Amami but with a seat between them. He sees Momota soon after, sitting right in the seat in front of him and yawning.

“I still think we should have left at noon.” He twists around, and Shuuichi sees his head and shoulders turned to face him. “I don't think we need to get there at two just to move a bunch of sh*t into cabins.”

Shuuichi glances forward, but Amami's talking to Kiibo and Ouma outside, not paying any attention. “I think it's a good idea, since we have to hike to the campsite...” He trails off when Momota sighs and turns back around.

“Yeah, yeah, you're right. I just wanted more sleep. I can never sleep in cars.”

Shuuichi chuckles, so quietly he's not sure Momota can even hear it. “It's ten, though... you had plenty of sleep.” Momota just groans in response, reaching back a hand to swat at Shuuichi. It's easy to avoid, and Shuuichi laughs when Momota takes his hand back and yawns into it instead, dramatic and obviously faked.

The door on Momota's other side opens at the side time as the front passenger door, and Kiibo and Ouma climb into the car. Ouma sits down in the middle back seat, right next to Shuuichi.

“Uh...” Shuuichi watches as Ouma fixes him with his stare, a pout on his face. “Don't you want to sit to the side? There's more room in that seat.” He watches Ouma glance at the empty seat, then back at Shuuichi.

“But who will keep my beloved Saihara-chan company then?” His face shifts into a wide grin, and he leans into Shuuichi's shoulder before winking. Shuuichi doesn't say anything, distracted by the fact that his face is turning bright red and he can see every one of Ouma's eyelashes when he's this close. He swallows, and Shuuichi sees the way Ouma's eyes jump down to his throat and then his lips before moving back to his eyes. Shuuichi looks out the window, leaning away.

“If you want to sit here, that's fine.” It sounds lame to his own ears, and Ouma doesn't say anything in response, just nodding, still grinning when the car starts. It hums under Shuuichi’s thighs, and as Amami pulls out of the parking space, he can feel Ouma sigh beside him, leaning on him more. He doesn’t say anything, but when he looks over at Ouma, he’s staring at the floor of the car. Shuuichi almost asks if he’s okay, but Kiibo starts talking first.

“We should play a game! If we do nothing for four hours, we’ll get bored.” Kiibo turns around in his seat just enough for Shuuichi to see one teal eye.

“Sounds good to me.” Amami, thankfully, does not turn around, instead steering the car out of the parking lot. “Did you have something in mind?”

“We could play the word game. Y’know, where you say one word and the next person says the first thing that comes to mind when they hear it, no matter what it is.” Momota’s voice is quieter than it should be, probably because of the seat between them.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! The professor always played games when Kokichi and I went on car rides as kids, and I think we’ve played that one before.” Kiibo smiles at them.

“You and Ouma are childhood friends or something?” Momota sounds surprised, which makes sense given that he has a lot less classes with Ouma than Shuuichi does.

“Yup! Kiibaby’s like my younger, stupider brother!” Ouma pipes up from beside Shuuichi, and Shuuichi can tell he’s grinning even though he can’t see it.

“Wait,” Momota says, his voice rising in pitch, “Kiibo’s the younger one?”

Kiibo sighs. “Only by four months. And we’re not actually blood relatives.”

“Are you disowning me, Kiibo?” Ouma’s voice is choked up, high, thick with tears. “After everything we’ve been through together?” Beside Shuuichi, he’s actually shaking. Shuuichi can feel his brow furrowing as he looks at Ouma, unsure if he’s actually upset or just really good at acting.

“Kokichi, we were never blood-related. I can’t disown you even if I wanted to.” Kiibo pauses for a moment, and Shuuichi can see his eyes move over Ouma. “And you’re still family to me, even when you’re being a brat.” Kiibo turns back around and says something to Amami, and Momota leans forward to join the conversation. Shuuichi doesn’t bother listening in. He’s too busy watching Ouma swipe the back of a hand across his eyes, smearing tears across his face. Ouma looks at him and grins, still crying.

“Are you okay?” Shuuichi whispers, not wanting the others to hear in case Ouma isn’t okay.

Ouma giggles and wipes his eyes again. “Aww, is Saihara-chan worried about me? I’m heartbroken over Kiibaby pretending we aren’t related. Don’t we look so much alike? Who would believe such a big meanie?” He tilts his head, and Shuuichi can’t look away from his eyes, big and violet and watery. They fill slowly with tears again, even though Ouma shows no other sign of being upset. Shuuichi’s not sure why, but he feels like he’s missing something. Ouma’s obviously not upset by what Kiibo said-- he instigated that himself. But...

Shuuichi reaches out with one hand and grabs Ouma’s hand, curling their fingers together. “It’s okay to be honest sometimes, Ouma-kun.” He still doesn’t know why Ouma’s off, or how he noticed, but he’s sure of it now. Ouma’s face shifts into surprise for just long enough for Shuuichi to notice, then he’s smiling and leaning against Shuuichi’s shoulder, squeezing his hand.

“You lie as much as I do, though.” It’s so quiet that Shuuichi isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not, so he doesn’t say anything.

--

“Finally! I think if I spent another minute in that car I would actually explode!” Momota all but throws himself out of Amami's car, spinning around with his arms out. “I'm free!”

Shuuichi sees Amami open his door and step out, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn't that bad, was it...?”

“You're an excellent driver, Amami-kun.” Kiibo hops out of the car, a smile on his face. “I didn't get nauseous at all.”

Shuuichi turns to Ouma, who is still sitting in his seat, blocking Shuuichi's way out. He's scrolling through his phone with the hand that isn't wrapping around Shuuichi's, and if Shuuichi didn't know better, he'd think Ouma hadn't even noticed them stopping.

“Hey, Ouma-kun, could you let me out?” Shuuichi’s eyes flick over to the outside, bright sunlight spilling onto the asphalt, the smell of crisp pine sneaking into the car. “We're here.”

Ouma looks at Shuuichi, tilts his head, and sighs dramatically, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Saihara-chan just wants out of the car because he's going to kill someone.” He crawls through the space between the middle row seats, stepping outside without a backward glance. Shuuichi blinks and then stumbles after him, struggling to get out fast enough to catch up with Ouma, who's making a beeline for... the woods.

“O-Ouma-kun! I'm not going to kill anyone! Why would you say that?!” Shuuichi can see Momota's had turn towards them, a confused expression on his face.

“Because Saihara-chan is secretly a serial killer and being a detective is just a cover for destroying evidence! I've figured it all out, so don't even try to deny it.” Ouma turns around, walking back towards the edge of the asphalt and the start of the trees, his hands up behind his head and a wide grin on his lips.

“Shuuichi, what is he talking about?” Momota's footsteps grow louder behind Shuuichi as he jogs to catch up with him and Ouma. “Do you want me to hit him? Or something?”

“No, it's fine, he's just...” Shuuichi trails off as Ouma keeps walking backward. “Ouma-kun, you're going to hit a tree.”

Ouma stops, glances behind himself at the tree, and tips his head back, cackling. “Wow, Saihara-chan saved me even though I accused him of murder!”

“Uh...” Shuuichi is honestly so confused by Ouma right now that he would rather just ignore him altogether.

“Wait, why are you accusing Shuuichi of murder?” Momota frowns, glaring at Ouma. “He didn't kill anyone, so you're obviously lying.”

“What makes you so sure,” Ouma rocks back on his heels, his head centimeters from the tree behind him, “Momota-chan?”

“Shuuichi would never kill someone!” Momota turns to look at Shuuichi, his face turning red. “This is ridiculous! If any of us are serial killers, it's probably you.” He points a finger at Ouma, who tilts his head, stupid grin tilting with it.

“Guys, stop.” Shuuichi sighs and takes a step between them, glaring at the both of them. “You're arguing over something that's not even real.”

Momota sighs and drops his arm, taking a step back. “Sorry, Shuuichi. He just really gets on my nerves sometimes.”

“Aw, Momota-chan, do I really?” Ouma moves sideways, away from the tree and towards Shuuichi, his steps light and bouncy. “That's so sweet!”

“It wasn't a--”

“Ouma-kun, please.” Shuuichi cuts Momota off with a sigh, reaching up to rub one of his temples with a hand. Some small, logical part of his brain says it's because he hasn't had anything to drink for the past three hours in the car, but he's more inclined to believe it's Ouma's fault.

Ouma giggles and skips away, throwing his head back to look at them. “Sorry, Saihara-chan! It was all a big lie, of course! Nobody here would kill anybody, no matter what the circ*mstances.” Shuuichi watches him as he bounces over to where Amami and Kiibo are helping Akamatsu and Harukawa unload their car, moving coolers onto the ground. Ouma plops down on one of them, crossing his legs. Shuuichi assumes he's saying something because Akamatsu and Amami suddenly look a strange mixture of amused and annoyed, but whatever it is, Shuuichi can't hear it.

“Geez, that guy...” Momota shakes his head. “Anyway, we should go see if someone needs help. I think we got here at the same time as Shirogane’s group.”

Shuuichi nods and glances around, quickly spotting Chabashira unloading a trunk full of stuffed backpacks all by herself, with Yumeno absent, Shirogane leaning into the car, and Yonaga sitting on the ground, praying. Shuuichi sighs.

“Yeah, we should probably help her.” Shuuichi looks over to Momota, who's looking right behind Shuuichi for some reason--

“I wouldn't recommend it. Gokuhara-kun tried the same thing a moment ago, and Chabashira-san scared him off.” Even though he had a bit of warning, Shuuichi still jumps at the sound of Toujou's voice. “I think we're done everywhere else. Let me help Chabashira-san.”

Shuuichi glances at Chabashira angrily unloading the trunk, then back at Toujou, a small smile on her face. He nods hesitantly, glancing at Momota, who just looks pleased that he's not going to get thrown by Chabashira. Toujou seems to accept this, moving past them and walking over to join Chabashira, who doesn't seem to mind at all. Shuuichi suddenly feels very useless.

He turns back to Momota, who's looking around, just as lost as he is. “Uh...” Momota's gaze locks onto where Amami, Akamatsu, Harukawa, Kiibo, and Ouma are sitting on coolers and talking, Akamatsu waving her hands and smiling as she talks.

Momota claps a hand onto Shuuichi's shoulder and starts leading him towards the group. “Let's hang out with them, Shuuichi!” Shuuichi smiles and lets Momota keep a hand on his shoulder as they reach the group, even when they both sit on the open coolers and Amami waves at them.

“Hey, decided to join us?” Amami's smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “We're just waiting for the backpacks, then we're hiking to the cabins.”

Momota takes his hand off of Shuuichi's shoulder, balancing himself better on the cooler. “We've got a lot more stuff than I thought. How long is the hike?” He doesn't sound annoyed or angry, just curious. Shuuichi wants to know too, actually. He'd never admit it, but he's pretty tired just from being dragged around the parking lot, his head buzzing with a headache, his limbs weak and shaky.

“It's not too bad, and Gokuhara-kun volunteered to carry backpacks for everyone who can't.” Amami's eyes flicker to Shuuichi for such a small amount of time that Shuuichi wonders if he might have imagined it.

“Man, he's really a beast, huh?” Momota chuckles, leaning back on his arms slightly. “That's the kind of strength you can't get from just working out.”

Amami nods in agreement, and Akamatsu leans forward, one finger raised. “One time, I had to move a piano, and he picked it up with one hand! It was a grand piano, full sized and everything!” She rubs the back of her head and glances to the side. “I did get mad at him for not being careful, though. I still feel bad about that.”

“I mean, one time he tried to pick up a car and I yelled at him.” Amami chuckles, crossing one of his legs over the other. “I think Gokuhara-kun’s strength is just so surprising that it’s easy to react to it like that.”

“Wait, did he pick up the car?” Momota suddenly looks far too interested.

“Well, I stopped him before he really got a chance to try, but I’m still pretty sure it’s impossible.”

“Wow, it sounds like I really need Gonta-chan in my secret organization!” Ouma runs a hand through his hair, flipping it dramatically. “With someone like that on our side, we could conquer the entire world a second time!”

“Oh yeah, you and Gokuhara-kun get along pretty well, don’t you?” Akamatsu smiles. “I’m really glad.”

Kiibo huffs, and he’s rolling his eyes when Shuuichi looks at him. “Please. It’s more like Kokichi drags Gokuhara-kun around with him and then lies to him to keep him happy.” He glares at Ouma.

“Whaaat?” Ouma giggles, eyes comically wide. “Is Kiibaby jealous?”

Shuuichi’s about to say something to stop the impending fight, but he spots Toujou and Shirogane approaching and realizes he doesn’t have to. He points to them just as Shirogane starts talking, and Amami and Akamatsu twist around to see them.

“We’re all ready, I think! Is everything good over here?” Shirogane’s eyes dart to the frown on Kiibo’s face.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Amami says, standing up. “We should probably get our backpacks on before we pick up the coolers, though.”

Shirogane nods and glances back at Toujou. “That’s a good idea!” She waits as Shuuichi and the other stand up, then she and Toujou lead them to the backpacks. There are seven on the ground, and Shuuichi wonders whose is missing as he grabs one.

“Oh, um.” Amami clears his throat beside Shuuichi. “Don’t get mad but... you’re not carrying a backpack.”

Shuuichi turns to face him, brow furrowing. “...what? Why not?”

Amami gives him a look, then takes the backpack out of his hands, throwing it over his own shoulder. “I think it would be a bad idea. With your health.” He doesn’t look away from Shuuichi, probably not even when Shuuichi shifts his gaze down to the dirt.

“Everyone’s going to know something’s up if I’m the only one not carrying a backpack.” Shuuichi’s voice is small, as small as the ants crawling through the pine needles and soil below.

“Yumeno-san and Angie-san aren’t carrying one either.” Amami pauses. “Plus, I think everyone knows something’s wrong.”

Shuuichi stares at a particularly interesting leaf. “Oh.”

Amami’s hand touches his shoulder gently. “Sorry. It wasn’t my suggestion, either. Shinguuji-kun pointed out that you’d been easily tired lately, and he suggested that we have someone carry your bag, Yumeno-san’s bag, and after Angie-san hurt her shoulder, her bag.” When Shuuichi glances at his face, he's smiling without it reaching his eyes.

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say or how to say it, so he just nods and follows Akamatsu's back as she walks to the trailhead. He can tell Amami just watches him for a minute, before his footsteps move away, to the coolers, probably.

Akamatsu notices him drawing closer, her face lighting up. “You ready?” She pumps her fists. “This is gonna be great.”

Shuuichi feels his face relaxing into a small smile, even though he can't get it out of his head that everyone knows something's wrong. “Yeah. I'm pretty excited.” It's true, even though he's also nervous. Normally he only has one, maybe two meals with everyone else, but in this trip everything will be done together. He can only hope they brought a lot of fruit.

“It's only like a mile, I think.” Akamatsu wraps her hands around the straps of her backpack where it rests against her shoulders. “I feel bad for the people carrying coolers, though.”

Shuuichi glances back, his gaze catching Amami's as the green haired man walks towards them, left hand holding one handle of a cooler. Shuuichi looks away before he can see who's on the other side.

“I'm not even carrying my backpack.” Shuuichi looks at the ground, watches his feet scuff the dirt.

“Well, yeah.” Akamatsu sounds surprised he even mentioned it. “That thing probably weighs more than you do.”

Shuuichi almost laughs, because that's ridiculous. He's lost weight, sure, but he's not small by any means. It makes his head hurt to think about it, that he's been eating so little for so long and he's still the size he is. It doesn't add up, not with the math he used to calculate how much weight he should have lost, not with how much weight he has lost. Which is actually more than he expected, not less, but it's not showing up on his body, in the mirror. He feels... big. Like he takes up too much space, like the way his heels dig into the dirt and rocks and pine needles below him is too powerful, too heavy. Shuuichi wishes he was small enough to turn sideways and disappear, to stay out of everyone's way. The way he is right now, he’s a burden, extra work, a tagalong who can’t even carry his own backpack.

“Hey,” A voice that isn’t Akamatsu’s comes from his right side, and he turns to see Yumeno staring at him. “You’re making an emo face.”

“What?” Shuuichi looks at her, unsure of what to say.

“It’s a pain to look at. Cheer up.” Yumeno takes a few steps closer to him and Akamatsu.

“Yeah!” Akamatsu pats his back with her free hand. “Cheer up, Saihara-kun!”

Shuuichi swallows down his blush, looking straight ahead instead of at either of the girls. “I just feel like I should be helping...”

“What? Carrying stuff would be a huge pain. I’m glad I don’t have to.” Yumeno sounds genuine, but Shuuichi still can’t help but feel guilty.

“I’m sure there will be some way for you to help at the campsite, Saihara-kun.” Akamatsu pumps her fists, smiling at him.

Shuuichi still feels bad, but he smiles and keeps walking anyway.

--

Shuuichi sits down on the log, the bark digging into his legs even through his jeans. He takes a deep breath, watching his breath puff in the cold air in front of him, rising up and fading. With the dark rows of pine tree soldiers lining the campsites, the amber carpet of pine needles, and the smoky smell of campfire and charcoal, Shuuichi feels like he’s stepped into another world. He’s the only one outside of this cabin, the only one in this little clearing. It feels like he’s the only one in the whole world.

The door of the cabin creaks open, a spark of movement in the left side of his vision. He resists the urge to sigh, instead staring out at the shadows in the forest ahead. Someone sits down beside him, white hair in the corner of his vision.

“It’s beautiful.” Kiibo’s voice comes out as a sigh, and all Shuuichi can do is nod. The setting sun filters through the trees, dragging tall black shadows across golden needles and scattered leaves, pulling the reds and oranges of the sky into the forest. The silhouette of a bird shifts in the trees ahead, branches of pines swaying in the breeze. Shuuichi wonders why people ever bother to take photographs of things like this; they never look as pretty as they do in person.

“This was a good idea.” Shuuichi’s voice is soft, even to his own ears. The rustling of the trees is louder.

Kiibo nods, barely visible in the corner of Shuuichi’s vision. “Yes, it was. I was thinking about asking everyone about going next semester as well.” Kiibo shifts, his shoe scraping against the dirt.

Shuuichi nods, his eyes darting over to Kiibo and then back at the sunset. “Yeah. We should.” It’s hard to look away when it’s this beautiful and he’s this tired. He hadn’t expected a mile of hiking and then setting up the cabins to be hard work, but he’s sore from rearranging beds and collecting (not enough) firewood, his arms aching and legs shaky. He rests his hand on the rough bark of the log beneath him, scraping his palm over the surface.

“Sometimes I worry that we’re not all going to be here next semester.” Kiibo’s voice is quiet, low. Shuuichi looks at him properly, and he's frowning just the slightest bit.

“What do you mean?” It comes out as barely a whisper.

Kiibo sighs. “Between you being sick, Hoshi-kun being... sad, and practically everyone else being stupidly reckless, it’s a wonder nobody’s gotten seriously hurt yet.” Kiibo kicks at the ground, sending a puff of dust into the air and a few pine needles flying.

Shuuichi looks back at the sunset. “I’m not going anywhere. I can't speak for the others, but I’m not going to do anything that’ll end with me dead.” He’s not sure if he meant for it to be the truth or a lie, but it feels like a promise, another heavy stone in his stomach. Shuuichi has no idea if he can keep to his word.

“You better not.” Kiibo laughs, even though it sounds watery. “I’ll make sure I’m here next semester, too.”

Shuuichi glances at him, sees tears on his face, spilling out of teal eyes. “Kiibo-kun? Are you okay?” It sounds weak, asking when he’s obviously not, but Kiibo just smiles and nods, wiping his face.

“Yeah. Sorry, Saihara-kun. I know you’re dealing with your own problems, but...” Kiibo pauses, staring straight ahead. “This year is the first time I’ve really had any friends. I keep worrying that I’m going to lose it all, because I’m not really a person. Or that since I'm not, maybe I shouldn't have it in the first place.”

“What?” Shuuichi feels his brow furrowing. “Not really a person?”

Kiibo looks surprised, and he turns to look at Shuuichi, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. “Kokichi hasn’t said anything? I’m artificially made, in the lab. The professor created his own egg and sperm cells and then inserted pieces of human DNA into them. I don’t have biological parents.” He laughs humorlessly. “I'm just... a character. A living doll. A robot. I shouldn't even be alive.

“Oh.” Shuuichi looks Kiibo over, his frown deepening. “I think... you’re still a real person. I don’t think it matters so much how you were made, because I mean, you’re a real friend to me. And I'm glad you're alive.” It sounds cheesy, and it feels cheesy, but it’s true, and it doesn’t surprise Shuuichi at all when Kiibo leans forward and pulls Shuuichi into a hug, arms wrapped around him tight.

“Now you’re really not allowed to die.” Kiibo’s voice is muffled by Shuuichi’s jacket, and Shuuichi laughs a little. Kiibo pulls back an inch. “No, really. You’re my friend, too, and I’d cry a lot more than this,” Kiibo gestures to his face, “if you went anywhere.”

Shuuichi nods and hugs Kiibo again, pulling him in closer because it just occurred to him that if Kiibo, if Akamatsu or Ouma or Amami or Momota or Harukawa or any of his friends were to die, to shrink and shrink until they weren’t even a shadow, until they didn’t exist, Shuuichi’s heart would break in two. Because right now, seeing Kiibo sad, it hurts, and he feels a wave of hot guilt when he realizes that Amami cried when he asked him to stop hurting himself, that Kiibo talked him out of a panic attack with worry in his eyes, that Ouma held his hands and told him he was okay when he had no idea what was wrong. Shuuichi puts the pieces together all at once, everything slotting neatly into place like a bullet into a gun. He’s hurting everyone else, too. Not by being a burden or taking up too much space, but because they care. It hits him like a gunshot to his heart.

Shuuichi nods into Kiibo’s shoulder, trying not to cry more than Kiibo is because that’d just be ridiculous. “‘M not going anywhere.” He pulls back slightly, just so he can wipe his eyes.

“Good.” Kiibo’s voice is less choked up, less sad, more normal. When he pulls back, he looks relieved. “I worry, about... both things. Whether you see me as a real friend, and if you’re okay.”

“You’re definitely a real friend,” Shuuichi wipes his eyes again, pulling away from Kiibo enough to sit normally, “And I’m... not sure if I’m okay, to be honest.” It hurts almost as much as lying, when he says it, like glass crawling up his throat. He thinks he might choke.

Kiibo frowns, then nods. “I think that's okay. It's better than pretending everything is fine when it's obviously not.” He looks down Shuuichi's body, then up again. “I hope you've gone to the doctor's, at least.”

Shuuichi realizes that Kiibo probably thinks there's something wrong with him physically, not just that he's dramatic and crazy and doing this to himself. “I'm going soon.” It's true, because he promised Amami. Even though Shuuichi doesn't want to go, because he's too big to have an actual eating disorder and he's doing it himself so he's not actually sick.

Kiibo gives him a look. “Soon? You really haven't gone yet?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Your health is very important, Saihara-kun. It's bad to ignore it.” He sighs. “I'm glad you're planning on going, at least.”

“Yeah,” Shuuichi swallows. “Maybe you should see someone too. I mean, the stuff you said earlier...”

Kiibo blinks, then smiles, his face a little red. “Yeah, you're right. That was a bit hypocritical of me, huh?”

“No, I... I get it.” Shuuichi swallows, looking down at the pine needles almost bloody in the light of the dying sunset. “It's hard, to acknowledge when...” He swallows again, even though his mouth is dry. “When something's wrong.”

Kiibo's hand rests on Shuuichi's shoulder, and Shuuichi risks glancing over at him. He's nodding, a small smile on his face. “I'm going to go to the health center when I get back. You should, too.”

Shuuichi nods, and when he smiles back at Kiibo, it feels real. “Yeah. I will.” He turns his gaze back to the sunset, orange long turned ruby red and heavy on the horizon, the forest black and red and shadows in from of them.

“Good.” Kiibo stands up, taking his hand off of Shuuichi's shoulder and stretching, his hair dyed red in the light. “We should probably go wake Kokichi and Momota-kun up. I believe we're starting smores soon.”

Shuuichi nods, and he heaves himself off of the log, his legs stiff from the cold. He stumbles one step to the side, his foot kicking up a small pile of fluffy pine needles. He rubs his hands together as he follows Kiibo back to the cabin, noticing how cold it's gotten without him noticing. Kiibo turns the knob of the cabin door, pulling it outward.

“Kokichi? Momota-kun?” Kiibo leans inside for a second, then shifts so he's looking at Shuuichi again. “They're both still asleep. I'll wake Kokichi up; can you handle Momota-kun?”

Shuuichi nods, and he steps forward. Kiibo moves into the dark cabin and Shuuichi follows, blinking in the darkness. His eyes adjust quickly, and he can make out the shape of Momota's hair on the pillow of the cot closest to him.

Shuuichi sets a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Momota's back is warm, and he doesn't even budge. “Momota-kun? We're going to do smores soon.”

Momota groans then rolls over so he's face up, blinking at Shuuichi blearily. “Mmm? Shuuichi?” He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “'M up.”

Shuuichi steps back, giving Momota space to swing his legs over the side of the cot and stand up, stretching. Behind him, Shuuichi hears Kokichi groan loudly and Kiibo sigh even louder.

“Man, I really needed that nap!” Momota bounces on his heels, already looking fully awake. He grins at Shuuichi. “You ready for this, Shuuichi?”

Shuuichi smiles back at him even though he's not actually that ready. “Yeah. It'll be fun.” A loud noise from his side startles him, and he almost hits Momota when he jumps.

“Kokichi! I told you not to do that!” Kiibo sounds equal parts annoyed and alarmed, and when Shuuichi looks over at them, Ouma has rolled off his cot and onto the floor. He lays still for a moment, before picking his head up. Shuuichi is sure, for a moment, that he sees blood dripping down from his hairline, but when he blinks, it's gone.

“Wow, Kiiboy, you'd push me out of bed to wake me up? That's so cruel!” Ouma pouts, his face twisted with pain. “I could have gotten hurt!”

Kiibo pauses, his hands out, looking he's not sure if he should be helping Ouma up or not. “I didn't push you out, you rolled off yourself!” He reaches down and helps Ouma up anyway, his hands pulling the smaller boy up by the shoulders.

Ouma's face shifts when he looks at Kiibo, going from the fake frown to completely blank. His eyes dart over to Shuuichi, then back to Kiibo. “Hey, Kiibaby, were you crying? I know Saihara-chan is a big meanie, but you really shouldn't let him get to you.”

Kiibo blinks, visible even in the dim lighting. “What? No, Saihara-kun didn't make me cry.” He shakes his head. “Quit trying to start a fight, Kokichi. It's annoying.”

Ouma leans back, arms behind his head, and he prances out the cabin door giggling. “Aww, Kiibaby caught me! I wanted to get Gokuhara-chan to duel him!” He turns around and walbackwardrds, grinning. “C'mon! If you three take any longer, I'm gonna eat alllllll the marshmallows.”

Shuuichi shakes his head at the same time Momota and Kiibo sigh. “You're the one who took the longest,” Momota says under his breath as they follow him out into the clearing.

Chapter 8: 11/3 (part 2)

Chapter Text

Shuuichi kicks a stick back into the fire, embers twirling into the air. He yanks his foot back, the heat seeping through his shoes.

“Careful.” Harukawa is frowning when Shuuichi glances at her, the light of the fire casting dancing gold and red on her face.

Shuuichi smiles sheepishly, feeling a bit of heat rise to his face, not from the fire. “Yeah... I didn’t really think that one through, huh?” He looks back at the fire, the way the tips of the flames jump and lick at the dark sky, fire bleeding into smoke into stars. The air smells like sugar and soot and woodfire, and it feels like Shuuichi could sit here forever.

“Are you going to eat anything?” Harukawa shifts beside him, her head turned towards the table to their left, where everyone’s clustered around getting plates of food and skewers with marshmallows. Shuuichi can smell sausage and chocolate and doritos, mixing and turning with the smoky air.

“I don’t think so.” Shuuichi pauses, running through his excuses, his reasons. “I’m not hungry.” It feels lame, but Harukawa just shrugs.

“I’m waiting until they’re done so I don’t have to deal with a crowd.” She sighs. “You should eat something. We’re going to be doing a lot of hiking tomorrow.”

Shuuichi nods, not really wanting to commit himself to it. He isn’t even sure if he’ll be able to eat if he tries it, so he can’t say if he will or not. Instead, he tilts his head back, looking up at the stars. They hum in the sky above him, and it looks like they’re dancing as the smoke from the fire warps the air.

Ouma’s head pops into vision, his purple hair turned black in the lighting, an impish smile on his face. To Shuuichi’s credit, he’s hardly even surprised. This is the sort of thing he’s come to expect from Ouma.

Ouma giggles as Shuuichi turns his body so he’s actually facing Ouma, not just sitting with the other hanging over him. “Is Saihara-chan having fun without me?” He steps over the log to Shuuichi’s right, sitting down. There’s a full plate of food in his hands, four or five marshmallows surrounded by sausage, what looks like a tossed salad, and a bunch of grapes.

“Ah, Ouma-kun.” Shuuichi tears his gaze away from the food, forcing himself to look at Ouma’s eyes. “I was just looking at the stars.”

“Huh? But I’m right here!” Ouma gives him a completely bewildered look just long enough for Shuuichi to register it before he’s grinning again. “Juuuuust kidding~! I know what you mean, Saihara-chan!”

From his other side, Harukawa sighs. “I’m going to go get something to eat now. You’re going to have dinner by the time we go back to the cabins.” She stands up, not waiting for an answer as she heads to the table.

“Is Harumaki-chan worried about Saihara-chan’s eating habits?” Ouma leans into Shuuichi, eyebrows raised. “Is it because Saihara-chan’s lost a lot of weight?”

Shuuichi shifts uncomfortably, wishing it would be plausible for him to pretend he hadn't heard. “I-I haven't lost that much weight, Ouma-kun...” And Harukawa is probably just being a good friend, not so much worried about his weight. He's seen himself in the mirror; it's not obvious that he's lost as much weight as he has. There's layers of fluff and padding over his ribs and hips, mass between his thighs and around his stomach. He doesn't look sick.

Ouma tilts his head, grin replaced with a curious look. “Huh? You haven't noticed?” Ouma reaches forward and flicks Shuuichi on the nose, making him squint and pull back. “My beloved Saihara-chan is tiny!”

“Ouma-kun, don't flick me...” Shuuichi trails off when he opens his eyes again and sees Ouma holding up a wedge of orange, pale fingers glowing in the firelight.

“You're hungry, right? That was a lie earlier. I would know.” Ouma continues holding up the piece of fruit. “It looks weirder if you don't eat anything at all than if you eat with us, you know.”

He's hit the nail on the head, twice. It burns down Shuuichi's back, inching into his throat and chest. He fights the urge to look away, instead reaching up and taking the orange slice from Ouma, his hand shaking almost imperceptibly. Shuuichi tells himself it doesn't make his heart catch aflame when he puts it in his mouth, his chest beating in tandem with the campfire and smoke.

Ouma smiles, tilting his head just a little as Shuuichi swallows the orange, not even tasting it. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it?” It was. It was so hard, with Ouma's eyes on him and the twist and clamor of fire inside him. Shuuichi presses his eyes shut.

He feels a hand on his cheek, warm and soft. “Aw, don't cry, Saihara-chan.” Ouma's voice is softer than usual, and Shuuichi's pretty sure he isn't crying yet, but he's well on his way. Ouma's thumb smooths over his cheek before he pulls his hand away. Shuuichi opens his eyes, and it's as if nothing ever happened.

Harukawa sits down on Shuuichi's other side, and whatever strange atmosphere that had formed dissapates. Ouma shoves a marshmallow into his mouth and giggles around it, the sound muffled.

“Has he been tormenting you this whole time?” Harukawa glares at Ouma. “I can fix that.”

“A-Ah, no.” Shuuichi laughs uneasily. “He’s fine.”

Harukawa seems to accept it, nodding. “Are you going to get something to eat, or am I going to have to get it for you?” Harukawa stares him down, her face dark and spooky in the flickers of light.

“N-No, I'll go myself...” Shuuichi stands up, knees shaky. He thinks about the slice of orange, Ouma's pale fingers, his hand on his cheek. He pries a paper plate off of the stack, gripping it tighter than strictly necessary. He stares at the table of food. His eyes gravitate to the fruit, tangerines and apples and grapes, on the other side of the table. Shuuichi walks past sausage and beans to get to them, pretending he can't smell the smoke and salt. He puts a bunch of grapes on his plate and an orange. It looks like too much.

He turns to head back and almost runs into Chabashira. She gives him a dirty look, her plate piled with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate.

“What are you doing, trying to run into Tenko?” She shakes her head. “Just like a nasty boy.”

“Sorry, Chabashira-san... I didn't see you.” Shuuichi steps to the side, trying to get around her, but she frowns and copies him, staying in his way.

“Saihara-kun, you can't just be getting fruit. Even for an awful boy, that's not enough for dinner.” Chabashira waves at the food with one hand. “Tenko may not want to stand next to menace while she gets food, but Tenko can put up with it if Saihara-kun hasn't gotten his food yet.”

Shuuichi freezes because he has gotten his food. He swallows, looks down and to the side. “I'm not really--”

Chabashira huffs. “You weren't about to say you aren't hungry, right? Tenko hates when nasty, awful boys lie to her.” She puts a hand on her hip, frowning.

Shuuichi nods, running one shaky hand through his hair as he looks over to the food. He swallows, then reaches for the marshmallows, putting one on his plate. Chabashira is watching him.

“Tenko thinks it's ridiculous that you can't take care of yourself. Just like a boy to make a girl do all the work for him.” She shakes her head. “Here.”

Shuuichi watches as Chabashira grabs a sausage with tongs, dropping it onto Shuuichi's plate. She dumps a spoon of salad onto it next, leaving plenty of space between the fruit and the savory food.

“Eat some of everything, alright?” Chabashira glares at him. “You may be an awful boy, but you're not allowed to pass out on the hike tomorrow. Yumeno-san told Tenko she was really excited for it, so you can't mess it up.” With that, Chabashira reaches across the table, grabs one more graham cracker, and turns away, walking over to Yumeno where she's sitting by the fire. Shuuichi looks at anything but the food on his plate as he picks up a fork and walks back to his seat.

It feels like everyone's looking at him, but for the most part people aren't actually by the fire yet, instead eating non-smores food in various spots. Ouma and Harukawa are where Shuuichi left them, and Yumeno and Chabashira are on the other side of the fire. Shuuichi can hear Momota laughing in another clearing. He sits down.

Harukawa's eyes rake over his plate. She nods, and Shuuichi plucks a grape from the bunch. It tastes like metal in his mouth, sharp and sour and deadly.

“Saihara-chan, have you tried the salad yet? It's really good.” As if to prove his point, Ouma shoves a forkful of lettuce in his mouth.

Shuuichi nods, mechanically, and stabs some of the salad with his fork, tomato and olive and lettuce. He puts it in his mouth, chews, swallows. It feels like he's a hundred miles away, his head on a cloud about an ocean somewhere bright. He's not really here, food in his mouth and his stomach, heat on his face. He's not trying to keep himself calm as he takes a tiny bite of sausage, and the taste isn't salty and heavy and strong on his tongue. His fingernails don't bite into his skin even through his jeans.

Ouma gently pries his hand off of his leg, entwining their fingers. “You know, Saihara-chan, nobody like it when you hurt yourself. That doesn't make anyone happier.” His voice is gentle, his face blank, and Shuuichi realizes that he's upset.

“I-It's okay, Ouma-kun. I'm okay.” Shuuichi wipes his free hand on his jeans. “Just tired.”

Ouma shakes his head. “I hate lying, Saihara-chan. Almost as much as I hate it when you're sad.” A beat passes, and Ouma's face breaks into a grin. “That's a lie though! I love to see Saihara-chan suffer because I'm a biiiiiiig sad*st!”

Shuuichi swallows, hesitating for a moment before leaning into Ouma more, his grip tightening. “Now you're lying, Ouma-kun.” Shuuichi takes the single marshmallow off his plate and takes a bite out of it. It's sweet and fluffy, melting in his mouth. From the way Harukawa is still beside him, Shuuichi knows she's been listening in, watching. It's harder to swallow when he thinks about being watched. Shuuichi forces it down anyways, and he picks up the apple, light dancing over it's surface. It's crisp and bright when he bites into it, and Shuuichi hates the way all of this food makes his stomach sing, his appetite dance and soar. He shouldn't be hungry because he's not supposed to be eating in the first place. If anything, eating should make him less hungry, not more. It's unfair.

“Sooooo, Saihara-chan.” Ouma shifts, crossing his legs. He's still holding Shuuichi's hand and grinning. “Did I tell you that my organization is about to start a takeover of the Chinese government?”

Shuuichi blinks. “What?” He swallows the bite of apple. “Ouma-kun, there's no way that--”

Ouma cuts him off with a giggle, his smile wide enough that his eyes squeeze close to shut. “Saihara-chan saw right through my lie!” He tips his head to the side. “But my organization is planning something. Guess what it is!”

Shuuichi's brow furrows as he thinks. Assuming Ouma actually has a secret organization, it's not likely they're very large or their activities would have been on the news, even if the perpetrators aren't known. They're also probably not killing anyone or stealing important things, for the same reason. Unless they're disguising their crimes as random criminal acts, in which case it could be anything. But, Shuuichi has a hunch.

“It's not anything dangerous, is it? I think you're probably just pranking someone.” Shuuichi pops a grape in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue. Ouma's face doesn't falter.

“Is that it, Saihara-chan? You underestimate us!” He shoves a marshmallow into his mouth and talks around it. “We could be burning down buildings as I speak.” He waves a hand at the fire, his pale hand glowing in the light.

“I don't think you'd actually do that.” Shuuichi stabs his sausage with his fork, holding it in front of his mouth and taking a small bite.

“Why not?” Ouma tilts his head further to the side. “What makes you think that, Saihara-chan?”

Shuuichi swallows the food in his mouth. “Earlier, you accused me of murder. You probably wouldn't have done that if you didn't see murder as a bad thing to do.”

Ouma shrugs. “So? What if I was pretending?”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “No, I don't think you were.” He takes another bite. “It doesn't fit with how you normally act. Murder doesn't, actually.”

Ouma smiles, his face mischievous. “And how do I normally act, Saihara-chan?” He puts another marshmallow in his mouth, watching Shuuichi closely.

“You like to make people uncomfortable, but,” he swallows and sets down the sausage, “you don't enjoy actually hurting them.”

Ouma laughs, his face bright with the campfire and his smile. “Wow, my beloved Saihara-chan pays a lot of attention to me! Y’know, I'm starting to think--”

“Hey, Shuuichi, Ouma!” Momota's voice cuts Ouma off, and Shuuichi turns to see Momota waving from just past where Harukawa is sitting. “If you two are done flirting, we're all gonna tell spooky stories and eat smores together now.”

Shuuichi nods, glancing down at his plate. He's eaten about half of the sausage, a quarter of the salad, all of the grapes and orange, and a few bites of apple. The marshmallow is gone, and he feels sick thinking about it.

“Let's go, Saihara-chan! I wanna set Kiiboy's clothes on fire before he gets any.” Ouma stands up, tugging Shuuichi's arm along with him. Shuuichi sets his plate down just in time to make sure nothing falls off of it, letting Ouma drag him as they follow Momota.

“W-Where are we going?” Shuuichi almost trips over a root on the ground, Ouma’s grip just firm enough to keep him from tumbling over.

“Oh, Shinguuji and Amami’s fire pit is the biggest one, so me and them and Iruma dragged over some of the logs and chairs from other clearings and we’re doing it there.” Momota glances back at them. “Ouma, do you have to drag him? Shuuichi can walk, you know.”

Ouma giggles, his grip tightening a tiny bit. “I just love Saihara-chan so much I never want to let him go!” He slows down as Momota rounds the corner, and Shuuichi catches up to him, closing the tiny gap that had formed. Once he’s walking beside him instead of just behind, Ouma shifts his hand down so its holding his. Again, Shuuichi is surprised by how much warmer it is than his own.

“Yeah, I definitely believe that.” Momota isn’t facing them, but Shuuichi can hear Momota’s eyes roll. “Whatever. Just don’t do anything dangerous, kid.”

“Momota-chan, I’m older than you! You should be more respectful of your elders, y’know.” Ouma shakes his head. “So mean to me.” He sniffles.

“Wait, what? There’s no way you’re actually older than me.” Momota turns his head back to glance at them as they enter the clearing, light sneaking out from behind trees and onto the path in front of them, painting Momota in gold and rose, making his hair glimmer and glow.

“It’s true! I’m actually the oldest one in the study group!” Ouma grins, whatever crocodile tears he’d been preparing gone.

Shuuichi frowns. “No, that’s wrong... Hoshi-kun missed a few years of school, so you can’t be older than him.” He thinks for a moment. “Plus, isn’t your birthday in the summer?”

“So what?” Ouma rocks on his heels as they move to an empty log, Harukawa sighing behind them. “I could have been born a different year. Who’s to say I didn’t miss some school while I was messing around with my secret organization?” He giggles, louder than before, and Shuuichi glances at him to see an almost demented smile on his face. “Oh, what if I started school in another country, hmm? Maybe they just start later!”

“You didn’t.” Kiibo rolls his eyes from a chair next to eh log as Shuuichi sits down between Momota and Ouma. Harukawa moves around them to sit on Momota’s other side, which is probably a good idea given how annoyed she seems to be.

“What? Kiiboy, you can’t rat me out like that! That’s so--”

“You started school the year before me, and when I skipped a grade, we ended up in the same class. Momota-kun and Saihara-kun are older than you.” Kiibo rolls his eyes. “Please don’t start fake crying. It’s annoying.”

For reasons indiscernible to Shuuichi, that actually works. Ouma's face twists back into a grin, and he giggles. “Wow, Kiiboy's a snitch! You know what they say about snitches, Kiibaby.”

Kiibo casts an uneasy glance at Shuuichi. “Saihara-kun, is it fine if I go get smores stuff? I don't want to leave him with you when he's being like this.” He waves a hand at Ouma, who doesn't even look phased.

“What about me?” Momota mutters, crossing his arms.

“It's fine, Kiibo-kun.” Shuuichi looks at Ouma again, and he just snickers in response. “It's not like he's dangerous.”

Ouma laughs, tipping his head back. This time, it's loud enough that the rest of the study group on the clearing are turning to look. “Oh, Saihara-chan, I could be! You still have no idea what my organization does!”

Kiibo rolls his eyes. “Good luck, Saihara-kun, Momota-kun.” He turns and walks away.

Ouma's still cackling, and everyone's still staring, more or less. Shuuichi starts to feel anxiety budding in his throat, the eyes of his friends prickling his skin. His face is growing warm, and he knows it, but if he tries to stop Ouma, he'll figure out that it's bothering Shuuichi and keep going. Instead, Shuuichi bites his lip and pushes down the anxiety, for now.

“Ouma-kun, I don't think your secret organization is here waiting to kill me.” Shuuichi glances around, at the trees steeped in darkness, dark pine needles threaded through shadow. “The forest is pretty quiet for the most part, and there's only one trail to this campsite area. We would have gone the same way, and it's unlikely anybody could be dead silent and invisible this whole time.”

Ouma, thankfully, stops laughing, giving Shuuichi what is probably a satisfied look. “Ooooh, good job, Saihara-chan! My organization isn't here this time, but you should know that with our resources, it would be possible.” Ouma raises his eyebrows, leaning in. “If I wanted, I could have you all killed and not one of you would see it coming.”

From the other side of the log, Harukawa snorts. “Doubtful.” Shuuichi looks over at her, and he sees Momota giving her a meaningful look. She sighs.

“Uh, let's go get some marshmallows and stuff!” Momota stands up, a (probably) fake look of excitement on his face. “C’mon, Shuuichi, Harumaki!” He glances at Shuuichi's right side. “And Ouma too, I guess.”

Shuuichi stands up and ignores the way his head spins a little. Now's not really a good time for that. It's easier to ignore on the account that Ouma immediately latches on to his arm as soon as he stands up, wrapping himself around Shuuichi.

“Saihara-chan,” he wipes his eyes dramatically, “Momota-chan left me for last.” He leans on Shuuichi as they shuffle out from the log, but it's strange because that should make it harder to walk when he's dizzy, not easier. Shuuichi decides that Ouma is being nice and he probably shouldn't question it.

“At least I mentioned you, you little brat.” Momota doesn't even look back at him and they walk over to the haphazard smores station: a cooler and what looks like an empty cardboard box topped with paper plates full of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. There's also a neat pile of iron skewers, presumably for roasting the marshmallows.

“Now I'm sad,” Ouma says, leaning into Shuuichi more as they stop. “Only my beloved Saihara-chan can make me feel better.”

Shuuichi watches Momota stab marshmallows while Harukawa loads a plate with crackers and chocolate, but his mind is on Ouma and his breath on his shoulder. “What is it, Ouma-kun?”

“Hmm,” Ouma's voice is low and gravely, and Shuuichi is suddenly very aware of how close they are to each other. “I guess you'll have to--”

“Hey, Shuuichi, aren't you getting any?” Momota tilts his head, frowning. “Smores are the best part of camping, y’know.”

Shuuichi jumps, pulling away from Ouma even though the position isn't that compromising. “A-ah, yeah, I'll get some.” He steps towards the food, movements jerky. Why did he say that? He's already eaten way too much, enough for his stomach to feel real and solid in his stomach. There's no way he can eat more.

“Okay, good!” The smile on Momota's face is almost worth it. “We're gonna go get started, okay? Don't let Ouma get to you.”

Shuuichi chuckles, as if that hadn't just been happening. “Alright, Momota-kun.” He waves as Harukawa nods to him and they turn back to the fire, close together as they walk.

He can't really look for long, because Ouma leans closer again, his arms folded over his chest. “Hey, Saihara-chan. Now that your parents are gone, we can break alllllll the rules!” His eyes glitter in the dim light, the fire shining behind him and making his edges glow.

“What rules?” Shuuichi feels himself smile. “I don't think you followed any to begin with.”

Ouma laughs, grabbing a plate. “Saihara-chan knows me well!” He starts piling chocolate and crackers onto the plate. “Hey, Saihara-chan, you should get the marshmallows.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Oh! Sure... how many do you want?” He picks up a skewer tentatively, the metal cold in his hands. He's starting to realize, now that he's away from a campfire, that it's actually really cold out.

“Hmm? That makes it sound like you're not having any! I want four, and you gotta have at least one, or the campfire monster will get you.” Ouma nudges him. “You'll die a lonely death in the forest all because you didn't have smores.”

Shuuichi frowns. “Ouma-kun, that's not a real thing. It's not even a good lie.” He starts sliding marshmallows onto the skewer, grabbing five.

Ouma giggles, taking a step away from the food, full plate in hand. “How would you know? Have you ever gone camping and not had smores?” Ouma leans in, like he's going to tell a secret. “What if I'm right? You don't wanna take that chance, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi rolls his eyes. “Fine, I'll have one.” Ouma beams, and they start walking back to the fire, even though Shuuichi's heart is in his shoes. Some confused part of him wants to tell Ouma that he already had a marshmallow and dinner and that if he eats any more his stomach will swell and balloon inside of him, puffing him up until his skin splits and all of the Shuuichi spills out. But he can't say that; Ouma's smiling and happy and Shuuichi should be too. All he's going to do if he tries to avoid eating is stress everybody else out. He can just... make up for it, back at college. He has time. Even if he gains weight, he can lose it again. Shuuichi feels like he should be bothered by the fact that the thought of gaining weight, of undoing his progress, hurts so much, that it makes his heart pound and chest shiver with each breath. His ribs burn brighter than the campfire as he and Ouma sit down, rejoining Harukawa and Momota.

“Should we roast all of them at once?” Shuuichi gestures to the skewer of marshmallows. He doesn't want to roast them at all, but he can't get away without, not with Harukawa and Momota and Ouma right here.

Ouma grins. “No, you should. I'm going to sit back and relax while you do all the dirty work, Saihara-chan!”

Shuuichi sighs and shakes his head even though he's smiling, extending his arm out so the marshmallows hover just over the flame. He keeps his eyes glued on the way the white bubbles and crisps, turning golden and brown in the heat. The air smells like sugar and vanilla. It makes Shuuichi's head hurt.

Ouma leans against him, and Shuuichi realizes that he smells like honey. He can see his own hand shaking as he holds out the marshmallows, but he doesn't think he's that anxious. Ouma's pale hand lifts up and wraps around his.

“Jeez, Saihara-chan, you really need to invest in some gloves.” Ouma's voice is quieter than usual. His hand is like fire on Shuuichi's, warm and glowing. Shuuichi swallows, and he wonders if Ouma's close enough to his neck to hear it.

“Hey, Ouma-kun...” Shuuichi trails off, not sure what he was going to say.

“Yeah?” Ouma turns slightly, and he’s just close enough that Shuuichi can see the reflection of the campfire in his eyes.

“I--”

“Shuuichi!!” Momota’s alarmed voice startles Shuuichi, and he pulls away from Ouma, whipping his head around. “Your marshmallows are on fire!”

Shuuichi blinks, pulling the skewers to his face and blowing on the flaming marshmallows, the heat from the flame licking his face. Ouma’s hand slips away from his, and beside him, Ouma erupts with laughter.

“Saihara-chan, you should have seen the look on your face!” He wipes away an imaginary tears as Shuuichi finally puts the fire out. “Momota-chan may as well have said there was a dead body!”

“What is with you and dead people, Ouma?” Momota shakes his head. “You’re creepy.” Shuuichi can see Momota turn back to say something to Harukawa, but he's not paying attention. He looks at the marshmallows, only barely burned, but still molten hot, judging from the heat rising off of them. Shuuichi stares at it, at the wisps of vanilla smoke and distorted, bubbly marshmallow, sickly sweet sugar burned in puffs and boils. The fire burns it into his eyes, and the smell chokes his throat. Shuuichi is air and fire and smoke twisting up above them, swirling in the night sky and not about to eat a marshmallow, not about to bite into crackers and chocolate and let it melt on his tongue. His throat is swollen and sharp in his neck, his ribs a vise around his lungs. He stares at the marshmallow, cooling in front of him, the sharp point of the skewer. Shuuichi feels like he's been pierced, threaded through with iron, dipped into fire and molten marshmallow lava. He's burning.

Ouma's hand wraps back around Shuuichi's, tugging him closer. The fingers are fireworks against his hands, registering just barely in Shuuichi's ming. His movements are slow and deliberate as he picks up two graham crackers with his other hand, then lets go of Shuuichi to put a piece of chocolate on one and sandwich it all around the marshmallow closest to the end of the skewer. He slides it off and sets it down on the plate. Shuuichi can smell the chocolate now, heady and rich and cloying. He wishes he could shut his nose the way he could shut his eyes.

He watches without really thinking about any of it as Ouma makes the other four smores, putting them all on the plate. Shuuichi feels far away, like the smoke rising above the flame, as Ouma gently takes the iron skewer out of his hand and sets it on the ground in front of them. His face is blank when he reaches up and brushes a lock of hair out of Shuuichi's face. Shuuichi blinks, his vision focusing and his mind sharpening again at the contact.

“You in there, Saihara-chan?” Ouma's voice is soft and low with concern, even though he's smiling. Shuuichi swallows and drops his gaze, but Ouma's close enough to him that he just ends up looking at his shirt.

“I-I'm...” Shuuichi wants to swear because his throat is still stopped up for no good reason and the smoke must be getting to him because there's no way he's about to cry over smores. His mind threatens to slip away again, to latch onto the breeze and float away.

“You're okay, Saihara-chan. It's okay.” Ouma wraps his hand around Shuuichi's and squeezes. “You're right here.” The pressure is grounding, and Shuuichi wonders if Ouma learned this technique from Kiibo.

“Is he okay?” Shuuichi only barely catches Momota's whisper over the crackling of the flame and the beating of his heart. Ouma glances over Shuuichi's head and nods, a quick, short movement. Shuuichi hears a sigh behind him and he wonders if he was out of it for longer than he thought. Judging by the way the fire has slowed and shrunk, the edges white ash, the chances are pretty good.

“Sorry. I don't know what... what that was.” Shuuichi takes a deep breath and reaches up his free hand to rub his face, focusing on the sensation of Ouma's hand and the log beneath his legs.

“Don't apologise, Shuuichi.” Momota sounds an even mixture of trying-to-be-reassuring and actually-dying-of-worry. It makes a fresh burst of guilt bloom in Shuuichi's chest.

He shakes his head. “I'm fine now. Really.” Ouma's blank face doesn't look particularly believing, but Shuuichi chooses to ignore that because he's not actually sure if he's fine at all. “We can do smores now. Or eat them. If that's okay.” He looks at the ground, at the iron skewer glittering in the dust and singed pine needles. He really doesn't want to do this, but if it proves he's okay, it's worth it.

“Is that a good idea, Saihara-chan?” Ouma tilts his head, almost frowning. His other hand shifts, and Shuuichi wonders if he wanted to touch his face again.

“I'm fine,” he says, again. If he says it enough times, maybe he'll believe it. As if proving his point, he takes a smore from the plate on Ouma's lap, hoping that nobody else notices the tremble in his hand. He takes a bite, the cracker crumbling around gooey marshmallow and slick, melted chocolate. It tastes like sugar and smoke and blood.

Ouma smiles, a small smile that feels real, then grins, picking up a smore of his own and shoving the whole thing into his mouth. He tries to talk around it, but it comes out a muffled mess, and Shuuichi laughs despite his... episode a minute ago. Shuuichi twists so he's sitting more straight and he can see Momota's relieved look and chocolate smeared smile.

“Ah, Momota-kun, you've got chocolate on your face.” Shuuichi's voice is still too watery for someone who definitely wasn't crying, but Momota just laughs and wipes just to the side of the smear.

“Did I get it?” Shuuichi shakes his head, and Momota pokes his tongue out, wiping off the chocolate. “I definitely got it that time. Thanks, bro.”

Shuuichi nods and takes another, larger bite out of the smore. Now that he's eating it, it tastes too good. It wants to fall down his throat and into his stomach, wants to scratch and fight inside of him. He chews slowly, thoroughly, until the smore is liquid suamgar in his mouth. He swallows, and it rolls down his throat.

“Saihara.” Harukawa leans forward so that Shuuichi can see her around Momota. “I can kill someone for you. If you need me to.” From anyone else, it would be a joke, but the completely deadpan way she says it makes Shuuichi think it might be a serious offer.

“A-Ah, no thank you...” Shuuichi shifts where he's sitting. “Nobody's bothering me.” Except for himself, but something tells him that Harukawa would not take it particularly well if he asked her to kill him. It's also a little alarming when Shuuichi realizes he's not sure he'd mind that. Being dead. All of his problems are self inflicted, self contained. If he was gone, everything he's done to himself would snap and spark and die out, like a fire dunked into a tank of water.

Shuuichi pushes that thought away as Harukawa gives him a level stare before nodding and biting into her own smore. Shuuichi takes the last piece of his and puts it in his mouth, forcing himself not to think about how good it tastes, how sweet it smells. He swallows it and glances over at Ouma, who's eaten three of his four. Ouma grins at him, his head lit unevenly by the dimming campfire.

“Feeling any better, Saihara-chan?” Ouma picks up the last smore, squishing it between his fingers.

“Yeah.” Shuuichi nods, watching chocolate ooze from the sides of the smore, threatening to spill onto Ouma's fingers.

“Hmm, I don't know.” Ouma tilts his head. “It's still a lie if you don't think before answering.” He drops the smore onto the plate and sets the plate on the far side of the log.

Shuuichi frowns, and he actually considers it. Is he feeling any better? His chest still feels tight, but not like it's full of embers. His mind is still thick with fog, but not as much as normal. Anxiety is wound tight inside of him, but that's nothing new. His head aches and he's exhausted, which doesn't surprise him at all.

“I'm better,” he swallows, “but I'm not sure if I'm completely okay.” Shuuichi looks down, but he looks right back up when Ouma's hand comes to rest on his cheek.

“See?” Ouma's smile is softer than normal, still. “It's way better to tell the truth. I, personally, never lie.”

Shuuichi snorts, laughing almost into Ouma's hand. “That's a lie, Ouma-kun.” He feels shaky when he laughs, that kind of empty loose wobbliness that only comes right after crying.

Ouma grins and leans forward, his forehead touching Shuuichi's. “You know me too well, Saihara-chan.” His eyes stare into Shuuichi's, violet and striking and shot through with darts of gold and red from the campfire. Warmth seeps into Shuuichi where they touch. Slowly, he pulls away, his forehead first and then his hand. Where his fingertips brush across Shuuichi's skin, lightning spark and jumps. Ouma's eyes still glow when he's sitting back, both hands in his lap.

“Uh.” Momota's voice reminds Shuuichi that he and Ouma are not, in fact, alone. “You good?” He sounds flustered, affronted.

Shuuichi feels his cheeks burning red as, once again, he moves so he's not completely facing Ouma. He turns his head to Momota, who's fidgeting with an empty plate and trying to look nonchalant.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Shuuichi offers a hesitant smile.

Momota reaches up and ruffles his hair. “Hey, I told you not to apologize.” He grins lazily, his eyes moving to just behind Shuuichi. “Never thought I'd be saying this, but thanks, Ouma.”

Shuuichi glances over just in time to see the grin split Ouma's face, his eyebrows moving up just a touch. “Wow, Momota-chan actually thanked me!” He wipes a fake tear away from his eye. “I never thought I'd see the day!”

Momota rolls his eyes and reaches over Shuuichi to ruffle Ouma's hair, sending the dark strands up around his fingers. “Oh shut up, you little brat.” Ouma cackles, trying to pull away from his hand, and Momota laughs, the sound vibrating through Shuuichi. He laughs along with them, warm and safe between his two friends.

Chapter 9: 11/4

Chapter Text

11/4

--

“Shuuichi. Oi, Shuuichi, wake up.” Momota's voice drifts into Shuuichi's head, confusing and out of place. Wake up? What does that mean? Shuuichi groans and shifts. It's warm and soft here; he doesn't want to move.

“Is he always this hard to wake up?” And now Kiibo's here, for some reason. He sounds worried, which is enough for Shuuichi to start pulling himself vaguely in the direction of lucidity.

“Yeah. He'll wake up on his own if we wait an hour or two, but this is about normal.” Momota's hands shove him again, not so rough as to hurt. “Shuuichi, bro, c'mon. We're going hiking.”

Shuuichi reaches up a hand to rub at his face, resisting the urge to bury his head in the pillow and keep sleeping. He sits up, cracking one eye open and shutting it again.

“'s too bright...” Shuuichi yawns and opens his eyes again, wincing and blinking the sharp pain away. Momota stands next to his cot, looking awake and ready, while Kiibo sits on his cot across the cabin, his face screaming exhaustion.

“Hey, he's up!” Momota gives both of them an enthusiastic thumbs up. “We'll let you get dressed, Shuuichi.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Oh. For the hike?” He's still sort of half asleep, and his mind is slow to start putting the pieces together. He hadn't really processed that they'd be doing it first thing in the morning, but it makes sense. They don't want to leave too late, or they'll be tired when they drive.

“Yeah. You sure you're awake?” Momota punches him in the arm playfully, hardly even hitting him. “If you're not out in five minutes, I'm coming back in to wake you up.”

Shuuichi rolls his eyes as Momota and Kiibo walk out of the cabin. “I'm not going back to sleep!”

Momota pauses with the cabin door cracked, his head poking inside. “That's what you say, but I'm pretty sure you've slept through your English class at least three times.” He grins as he slips out the door, shutting it.

Shuuichi shakes his head with a smile and gets dressed quickly, shivering in the chilly air inside the cabin. He's really glad that they chose these over tents, considering that it must have gotten close to freezing last night. The cabins aren't heated, but being in a small room with three other bodies tends to help with that. Shuuichi shrugs his jacket on and laces his sneakers before opening the door to the outside, the sun spilling onto his face.

Momota looks up from the log he's sitting on when Shuuichi steps out of the cabin. “Hey, you're still awake!” He stands up, brushing off the backs of his legs. “We can go join the others now.”

Shuuichi nods and follows him and Kiibo when they start walking down the path. Momota naturally walks faster than them, so Shuuichi ends up beside Kiibo. He looks like he's still not awake, his eyes puffy and lined with dark circles, violet and red blooms on pale skin.

“Hey,” Shuuichi keeps his voice low. “Are you okay?” Shuuichi remembers what Kiibo had said, before, and he hopes it isn't that.

Kiibo turns to him, blinking. “Oh, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.” He pauses. “Actually, I’m surprised you and Momota-kun got any sleep at all.”

Shuuichi feels his brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Kokichi was on his phone, for one thing. It wasn’t making any noise but it was really bright.” Kiibo rolls his eyes. “He’s so inconsiderate. And he kept going in and out of the cabin, letting all of the warm air out and making tons of noise.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’d think he was doing it on purpose, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.”

Shuuichi bites his lip. That wasn’t like Ouma at all; if Ouma wanted to bother them, he’d have made a point to make sure it worked. His mind flashes back to the car ride, to tears welling in violet eyes.

“Where is he?” Shuuichi had noticed he wasn’t in the cabin this morning, but he had just assumed he’d gone to eat breakfast before the hike or something.

Kiibo frowns. “I think he’s trying to get Iruma-san to modify his phone so he can get service. Oh, he actually woke me up at one point to ask if he could use my phone. He said his wasn’t working, but I’m pretty sure he was lying.” He tilts his head slightly. “Are you going to go find him?”

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah. I’m sort of worried about him.” When he adds everything up, it doesn’t paint a picture of a lying, laughing Ouma, pulling another prank. No, Ouma’s hiding something, and Shuuichi, of all people, would know.

“Good luck.” Kiibo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “He trusts you, you know.”

Shuuichi blinks. “He does?”

Kiibo rolls his eyes. “Are you blind, Saihara-kun? Go.” He waves him forward, and Shuuichi nods, swallowing down his questions. He hurries ahead, drawing even with Momota.

“Shuuichi?” Momota doesn’t seem to have been listening to his conversation. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to go find Ouma-kun. Do you know where Iruma-san is?” Shuuichi feels brave, for once. Momota blinks.

“Oh. We’re all meeting by the trailhead, so they should be there.” He quirks an eyebrow up. “You’re not about to confess your feeling for him or something, are you?”

Shuuichi shakes his head, resisting the urge to laugh. “No, I’m just going to talk to him. I’m gonna go up ahead. See you on the hike?” He smiles at Momota, and Momota smiles back a wide grin.

“Yeah, see you on the hike, Shuuichi! Don’t let Ouma mess with you.” Momota gives him a thumbs up, and Shuuichi picks up the pace, pulling ahead of his two friends. The forest is quiet and still around him, the red bark of trees mixing with the soft brown of the ground and the dark green foliage, the occasional glitter of ruby red oak leaves, turned to fire in the autumn wind. The leaves and earth crunch softly beneath Shuuichi’s feet as he jogs ahead, his legs carrying him through the trees and around a bend in the path. He can’t see the trailhead yet, but as the sounds of Kiibo and Momota’s footsteps disappear behind him, he starts to hear the low rumble of conversation up ahead.

Shuuichi rounds another turn, sunlight spilling onto his face from a break in the trees. He spots Amami's green hair and slows down, walking more or less normally, only the slightest bit out of breath.

“Saihara-kun?” Amami smiles at him head tilted. “Where are Kiibo-kun and Momota-kun?”

Shuuichi smiles back at him. “They...” He takes a breath of cold air. “They're on the way. I just wanted to go ahead.”

Amami raises one eyebrow curiously, but his smile doesn't fade. “I'm glad you're excited, but don't wear yourself out now. It's a pretty long trail.” Amami gestures to the sign at the trailhead, a map of the route painted on to the wood. Shuuichi stares at the winding line, nodding.

“I'll be fine, Amami-kun.” Shuuichi looks back at him and smiles. “Do you know where Ouma-kun is?”

Amami's brow furrows slightly, and he tilts his head. “Hmm. I think he's over there?” Amami points and Shuuichi nods, glancing in that direction. He can see the top of a blonde head glittering in the sun, hidden just behind some trees, a little out of the way of everyone else.

“Thanks!” Shuuichi starts off in that direction, even though he can feel Amami's questioning gaze on his back. In another situation, it might make him anxious, but he's burning with the energy of an unsolved mystery, with an investigation. He has some of the pieces, and they're starting to fall into place-- watery eyes in the backseat, cold hand around his, Ouma laughing while accusing him of murder. Shuuichi isn't sure, and he doesn't know the details, but he's got a theory sitting heavy on his tongue, dancing and begging to be tested. Shuuichi steps past a tree and sees Iruma, dripping with sweat, and Ouma, sitting on a wizened tree stump and grinning. His eyes are ringed with more black and purple than Kiibo's are, and his clothes look rumpled and dusty. The sunlight makes his skin look even paler, the rays of light cutting right through his skin and down to the bone. Shuuichi stares at him.

“Oh, couldn't stay away?” Ouma giggles, waving Shuuichi over. “My beloved Saihara-chan missed me, Iruma-chan. Aren't you jealous?” Ouma's still looking at Shuuichi from where he sits as Shuuichi walks over, slowly. Ouma’s smile looks out of place on his face, like someone’s photoshopped it on.

“Ouma-kun, I need to talk to you.” Shuuichi forces himself not to fidget with his hands. He stares Ouma down, not breaking eye contact even when Ouma tilts his head curiously, violet hair shifting to the side.

“But Saihara-chan, I was about to get a blowj*b!” Ouma waggles his eyebrows and Shuuichi takes a step back, blinking in surprise. He glances at Iruma, who’s sweating even more.

“N-n-no you weren’t, you f*cking brat! U-unless--” Iruma swallows, looking to the side and playing with a strand of hair. “--unless you b-beg for it... i-if you got down on your knees and g-g-groveled f-for it--”

“Gross, Iruma-chan! I was lying, obviously. Who knows where your dirty mouth has been?” Ouma looks back at Shuuichi, holding his hands behind his head. “What do want, Saihara-chan?”

“I think you’d probably rather have this conversation alone.” Shuuichi bites his lip as Ouma raises one eyebrow questioningly, still grinning.

“Do you want to give me a blowj*b?” Ouma snickers. “Wow, Saihara-chan, I’m flattered, really, but--”

“N-No, Ouma-kun, I just want to talk.” Shuuichi looks just to Ouma’s side and pretends his face isn’t turning red. He can’t let Ouma deflect, distract him. That’s what he’s trying to do, of course.

“Fiiiiine.” Ouma groans, standing up. “Saihara-chan is no fun. You can talk to me on the hike, I guess.” He looks at Iruma. “Iruma-chan, you’re really a worthless scumbag.”

Iruma squeals and tugs at her hair. “W-w-w-why are you being s-s-so m-mean to me? I-I told you it was i-i-impossible. N-no matter what I do to y-your sh*tty phone, there's j-just no service out here!”

Ouma gives her one of the dirtiest glares Shuuichi’s ever seen. “Whatever, whor*.” Ouma turns back to Shuuichi, his grin back in place. “Shall we go, Saihara-chan? Do you want to hold my hand?”

Shuuichi looks between them, unsure of what to do. “Iruma-san, are you okay?”

“S-shut up, sh*ttyhara!” She points a shaky finger at him. “I-I could be into this, f-for all you know!” She starts to walk past them, teetering slightly on her feet as she moves.

“Wow, doesn't that make you hard, Saihara-chan?” Ouma winks at him.

“Uh. Not really, no.” Shuuichi swallows. “We should probably go, too.”

Ouma nods. “Yeah, probably. What, were you planning on making everyone wait all day?” He starts walking back towards the trailhead, passing Shuuichi up before he can even react.

“Ah, Ouma-kun!” Shuuichi hurries after him, managing to walk beside the shorter boy. “I thought you said we'd talk on the hike.”

“Well,” Ouma rolls his eyes. “We're not on the hike yet, Saihara-chan. Jeez, you'd think a detective would be smart enough to figure that one out on his own.” He keeps walking, and the two of them are back with the others at this point. Amami turns to them and tilts his head, looking like he has questions. Shuuichi nods his head a tiny bit, hoping that Amami gets that he wants to wait until after talking to Ouma. It seems to work, because Amami flashes him a small smile and turns back to his conversation with Shinguuji.

“Looks like everyone’s here now!” Akamatsu, at the front of the group, claps her hands above her head, her voice loud and bright. “Let’s go ahead and get started!”

Shuuichi hears somebody shout excitedly (Momota?), and then the group starts moving filing into the trail. It's only wide enough for two or three people to walk side by side, so as the group trickles in, Shuuichi and Ouma hang back slightly.

“Y’know, I never pegged my beloved Saihara-chan as the type of person who would get off on public sex, but I guess you're just full of surprises, huh?” Ouma's looking at him, a completely innocent look on his face. “Keeping me at the end of the group so we can do dirty things is very kinky, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi puts his face in his hands as he feels heat rising to the surface of his skin. “Ouma-kun, that's not why I want to walk with you, and you know it.” It's actually slightly easier than normal to ignore Ouma's distractions because Ouma's voice is the tiniest bit rougher than usual, his movements the tiniest bit less animated. Shuuichi doubts he even notices himself, but it looks like Ouma's tired. Exhausted, even.

After Hoshi and Shirogane have had a chance to get a few steps onto the trail, Shuuichi moves forward, grabbing Ouma's hand so that he can't avoid walking with him. Ouma jumps the tiniest bit before curling his fingers around Shuuichi's like he'd been expecting it the whole time. Shuuichi wonders if Ouma's actually letting more of his true emotions slip, or if Shuuichi's just paying more attention.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Saihara-chan?” Ouma sounds bubbly, bright.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” It's obvious he didn't sleep much, if at all. Ouma's grin doesn't falter, doesn't slip.

“Yup! I slept like a baby alllllll night! What about you, Saihara-chan?” Ouma squeezes Shuuichi's hand and leans his head on his shoulder, peering up at him. Shuuichi forces himself not to react to it, not to get distracted. He can appreciate affection when it's not for the sole purpose of pushing him away.

“That's a lie. Kiibo-kun said you were in and out of the cabin all night.” Shuuichi watches Ouma sigh, his grin disappearing into a scowl as he examines his fingernails.

“Well, Saihara-chan, if you must know, I was working with my secret organization on that infiltration of the Chinese government. They're in a different time zone, you know.” Ouma takes his head off of Shuuichi's arm. “This is top secret stuff, you know. I have to have you killed for this.” He stretches out his hand in front of him, looking at its surface. “And you were so fun to play with, too.”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “No, you couldn’t have been...” It slots into place, and he turns to Ouma, sure of himself. “Actually, yeah. You were on your phone, trying to contact your organization.”

Ouma rolls his eyes. “That’s what I just said. Jeez, Saihara-chan, you’re so slow. I was on the phone with the Chinese branch of my--”

“No, that’s wrong.” Shuuichi glances at Ouma, hopes he’s not pushing too hard, too fast. “You haven’t been able to get service, none of us have. That’s why you were with Iruma-san this morning. You wanted her to help you get a connection.”

Out of nowhere, Ouma cackles. “Wow! You saw right through my lie, Saihara-chan! Isn’t this a cool prank, though? I kept Kiiboy up all night, and now you’re all worried about me!” He giggles, his grin almost too wide for his face.

Shuuichi glances to the side, at the curling green underbrush and the red-brown of pine tree bark. He shakes his head, looks back at Ouma. “That’s a lie too, isn’t it? You probably didn’t even realize you were keeping Kiibo-kun up.” Shuuichi watches as they pass over a dandelion, its yellow head waving lazily in the air. Ouma steps on it, folding the stem into the dirt.

“Well, since you seem to know everything,” Ouma raises both eyebrows, kicking his feet as he walks. “Why don’t you tell me what I was doing last night?”

Shuuichi takes a deep breath, squeezing his hand tighter around Ouma’s so he can’t pull away. “Something went wrong with your organization, didn’t it? Actually,” Shuuichi swallows, “I think there’s a pretty good chance somebody died.”

Ouma doesn’t say anything. His hand clenches tightly around Shuuichi’s and he looks off to the side. Shuuichi thinks he can still see the corner of his grin. “Nope, you got it wrong.” It’s so obviously a lie that it hurts. “Better luck next time.”

Shuuichi tugs on Ouma’s arm so that the shorter boy is closer to him. “I’m sorry, Ouma-kun.”

“Sorry for being wrong?” Ouma laughs, almost maniacally, too loud and too harsh. “Wow, Saihara-chan, you better start apologizing nonstop then.”

Shuuichi doesn't reply, instead giving Ouma's hand a squeeze. His head is still turned, just the corner of his left eye visible. Shuuichi can see beads of liquid pooling in the corners, but he doesn't say anything. If Ouma wanted him to know he was crying, he would be wailing.

It makes sense if Shuuichi thinks about it. Ouma in the car, crying. Ouma on his phone when they arrived, unmoving. Ouma in the parking lot, laughing about murder and pulling all the attention towards himself. Ouma, up all night trying to get service on his phone. Death and lies and his phone, spinning like bullets in the chamber of a revolver, the cold touch of deception snaking around the handle, keeping people away from the trigger. Shuuichi just shot Ouma in the head.

“Are you okay?” Shuuichi suspects he's not, but he doesn't know anything else to say. Ouma's hand is squeezing his more than is strictly necessary, warm and shaky

“This is stupid.” Ouma laughs a watery laugh. “You want me to be honest with you, but you're always lying, too.” He hiccups. “You're so mean to me, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi tightens his grip on Ouma's hand. “Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah, you're right. I'm...” Shuuichi trails off.

“Are you okay, Saihara-chan?” Ouma leans into him, batting his eyes even though he's still teary. “How about I bring up all of the stuff that makes you sad and then don't show any vulnerability in return, hm? How do you think that'd feel, Saihara-chan?” He giggles, sharp and distorted in his throat.

Shuuichi takes a deep breath. “You're right. You're completely right.” He shuts his eyes. “If I'm honest with you, will you be honest with me?”

“Hmm, okay!” Shuuichi looks at him, sees his bright smile. “It'll be like a game. You ask a question, I ask a question.” He leans a good portion of his weight onto Shuuichi's arm, enough to make him stumble almost into the brush to their sides.

“A-Ah, okay...” Shuuichi's mouth is dry, his palms probably sweaty. But he needs to do this, for Ouma.

“I'll go first! What's making you all emo lately, Saihara-chan? And I don't mean just on this trip, so don't say it's because I'm upset.” Ouma bounces on his feet like they're talking about a video game or a joke. Like he's not trying to knock Shuuichi off balance.

Shuuichi swallows, and he hates how he's already trying to think his way out of telling the truth. That's what Ouma wants, though. If he backs down now, he's not going to figure out the truth, not ever.

“I've been... having problems. With anxiety.” It's not the complete truth, but it's close, so close. Shuuichi knows his hand would be shaking if it wasn't holding Ouma's so tightly. It's hard because the truth is wound tight around him, under layers and layers of secrets. He doesn't just tell anyone these things; they have to figure it out or force it.

“Hmm. That's close enough, I guess. Your turn!” Ouma takes a step to the side just enough to swing their arms between them.

Shuuichi forces himself to ignore the rolling anxiety in his chest, the bite and pinch in his heart. He can't let himself freak out, not now. “Was I right, earlier? When I guessed why you were upset?”

Ouma doesn't even look phased. “Yup, you got it! That sort of thing should be easy for a detective. You turned out to be way stupider than I thought you were!” He laughs, bright and loud in Shuuichi's ears. “Let's see... Are you losing weight on purpose, Saihara-chan? Watching your figure? Trying to drop a few pounds? Are you, Sai-ha-ra-chan~?” He drags his name out, long and lilting.

“You're trying to make me upset,” Shuuichi says, squeezing his eyes shut for as long as he can get away with while trying to walk on the trail, his feet automatically moving over stones and sticks. “Aren't you?”

“It's not your turn, Saihara-chan! Answer the question! Answer the question!” Ouma jumps up and down, yanking Shuuichi's hand when he moves. Shuuichi swallows, thick and heavy.

“Fine. Yes... I-I'm losing weight on purpose.” Shuuichi keeps his eyes on the ground moving beneath their feet, pretending that the reason he's got his gaze trained downwards is that the trail’s getting rockier, turning into a slope as they start onto a hill. It's not because his mind is spinning and he's thinking about food again, now that Ouma brought it up. He was fine by the end of last night, but just being asked has him reeling, spiraling downwards. He can taste smoke and sugar, bright flame on his tongue and in his throat. Anxiety lights up, dancing inside of him. He ate so much last night, and he doesn't even know how many calories because there's no service here and he can't look it up. He doesn't know, and it's inside of him, dissolving into his fat and his skin, plumping him up like a balloon being inflated slowly.

He forces himself to focus. It's underhanded and it hurts, but Ouma's doing this on purpose. He can't falter now.

“I-Is there anything you need, Ouma-kun? Anything I can do to help?” Because for all the time Shuuichi spends with Ouma, for all of the lies he's seen through and things he's gotten right, he still doesn't know how to help Ouma. Ouma's always helping him, talking to him low and soft, holding his hands and keeping him grounded. Shuuichi doesn't know if that would help Ouma. He doesn't know anything.

Ouma groans. “Wow, that's such a dumb question. Nope! Nothing at all! I don't need any help from Saihara-chan!” He almost sings it, and Shuuichi thinks it's unfair that he can seem so cheerful when he's in at least as much pain as Shuuichi is.

“That's a lie, isn't it?” Shuuichi watches his foot step up onto a smooth piece of stone. “I thought the game was that we'd answer truthfully.”

“Well, that was a lie!” Ouma cackles, the smile on his face turning mean, a sharp smirk. “I can't believe you fell for that, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi takes his free hand and drags it through his hair like he's going to pull down a hat that isn't there. He wants to dig his nails into his skin. Of course, Ouma wouldn't just tell the truth freely. Shuuichi looks as far to the side as he can without tripping and falling on the rocks, focusing on the burn in his legs instead of the burn in his chest. He was trying to help Ouma, to put together the clues and solve this case. He's an idiot. Figuring it out and presenting Ouma with his findings wasn't ever going to help anything; he probably just rubbed salt in the wound, brought blood to the surface, the same way Ouma did when he asked about Shuuichi's weight loss. This is why Shuuichi can't do this, why he doesn't deserve to be around people like this. He ruins everything, breaks people with his stupid need for the truth. It hurts. Everything feels messed up and dirty and broken and it's his fault, because he thought he'd play detective with Ouma's feelings. Shuuichi steps down on a smooth stone harder than he needs to, savoring the ache in his feet from the too-rough terrain. The light shining through the leaves and on to the path below doesn't match the way he feels, the swirling of guilt and fire and self-hatred. Shuuichi wishes he could dissolve, melt into the trees and make everything better by disappearing. He can barely see the backs of Hoshi, Gokuhara, and Shinguuji up ahead, far enough away that they probably didn't hear a word of he and Ouma's conversation. It's a good thing, too, because Shuuichi thinks if he has to revisit it, he might throw himself off of a bridge.

Shuuichi tries to think about the hike, the light in the pine trees and the hum and crackle of the living forest, but his breath is noisy and demanding in his throat and chest, sucking his attention away. He can't get his mind off of his body, off of last night. What made him think that was okay? If he hadn't eaten, if he'd been foggy and gone and tired and sick with hunger, he wouldn't have tried this, wouldn't have gotten brave enough to confront Ouma. He wouldn't be spinning and drifting now, his chest tight and sick. He has no right to even be upset. He's being dramatic, making it worse for himself when he's the one who hurt Ouma. Ouma would be better out without Shuuichi, without his nosy meddling, without him being selfish and overdramatic. Shuuichi takes a breath, stopping when it catches in the sides of his lungs, sticking and stuttering. He tries again, but it's a weak gasp, and Shuuichi realizes that his chest is throbbing and whining, his heart thundering and fluttering uselessly in his chest. He bites his lip, shuts his eyes, and tries to walk straight. This is ridiculous, this is--

“Saihara-chan.” Ouma's voice is quiet, and his hand tightens around Shuuichi's. He'd forgotten they were holding hands in the first place, and the pressure is grounding. “That wasn't very smart of me, huh?”

Shuuichi tries to ask what he means, but he still doesn't have a very good handle on his body. Ouma slows to a stop next to him, and Shuuichi doesn't resist when Ouma pulls his arm, forcing him to stand still. Shuuichi can see the shine of tears in Ouma's eyes, his face blank and expressionless.

“Breathe, Saihara-chan.” Ouma pulls him close, into a hug. Shuuichi can feel his warm breath, the pressure of his arms around him. He carefully moves his arms around Ouma, burying his face in his hair. He makes himself inhale, a shaky, shuddering gasp. It's so stupid-- he shouldn't be this upset by this. He's overreacting; Ouma's the one who should be upset, should be hurt.

“They're not dead, not yet anyway.” He can feel Ouma's voice on his shoulder. “Things went a little sideways. Someone got shot.” Ouma's arms tighten; his voice drops. “The rest of my organization's been keeping me updated, but...” Ouma stops talking, instead laughing into Shuuichi's shirt. “Wow, Saihara-chan. I think that's the most truth I've ever said at one time.”

Shuuichi nods, and even though his throat is tight and his chest hurts and he feels so full up of food and fat and fighting, he speaks. “Thank you, Ouma-kun.”

“For what?” His voice is level, blank. “I made you cry, didn't I?”

“You told me the truth.” Shuuichi pulls his face back so that he can see his face, and he realizes that Ouma's crying too, tears spilling around the smile. “I'm sorry that I-- I shouldn't have pushed you like that.”

Ouma rolls his eyes. “Jeez, Saihara-chan, you're the one who had a panic attack.” He leans forward, pulling them flush again. “That was all a big lie, anyway. Supreme leaders don't cry.”

Shuuichi laughs quietly, his breath still shaky and unsettled but bearable. “It's okay to be sad, you know. None of us are going to judge you.”

Ouma giggles and shakes his head. “That sounds so dumb, coming from you. You should take your own advice sometimes.”

Shuuichi nods, smiling. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He pulls away slightly, glancing back at the trail. He can't see anyone anymore. “Hey, do you think we should...?”

Ouma blinks, then looks. “Aww, they left us! I guess we gotta catch up, huh?” He looks back at Shuuichi. “Are you better now, Saihara-chan? No more panicking?”

Shuuichi nods, aware of the slow, gentle beat of his heart. “I am. Are you okay?”

Ouma rolls his eyes. “Jeez, Saihara-chan, the mushy moment's over. No more gross feelings stuff allowed, okay?”

Shuuichi sighs. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Ouma says, almost a groan. “Saihara-chan is turning into my mom! You're gonna have to fight Toujou-chan for that, y’know.” He starts off on to the trail, hiking up rocks and stone.

Shuuichi smiles, following after him.

--

“The wheels on the bus go round and round!” Ouma sings beside Shuuichi, rocking back and forth in the seat, hands under his thighs. “Round and round, round and round!”

“Kokichi, please.” Kiibo groans from the front.

“The wheels on the bus go round and round!” Ouma swings his legs, almost shouting. Shuuichi sighs, leaning forward to rest his head on the seat in front of him. Ouma has been doing this for the better part of an hour, and Shuuichi's starting to get a headache.

“Alllllll the way ho--” Momota whips around and claps a hand over Ouma's mouth, shutting him up. Ouma looks completely surprised for about half of a second before he relaxes, his grin visible even under Momota's hand.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Momota yanks his hand away. “Did you just lick me?!”

“Wow, Momota-chan, you taste really gross.” Ouma laughs, his head tipping back as much as it can in the car.

“If you start singing again, I swear, I'm going to--”

“Aww, Momota-chan, would I do that?” Ouma gives them a fake look of innocence.

“You just were.” Kiibo twists in the front seat to scowl at him. “Absolutely nobody enjoys it when you do that.”

“What? But Kiibo, I'm a good singer! You told me yourself! Have you been lying this whole time?” Tears start to well in the corners of Ouma's eyes, and he starts to whimper, but a buzz in his pocket cuts him off. He stops abruptly and whips his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it.

“Wait, what's that?” Momota leans forward, trying to see Ouma's screen.

“None of your beeswax, Momota-chan!” Ouma leans back, holding the phone out of his view. “I don't need you and your gross friends to know my business.”

Momota huffs and turns back to sit properly in his seat. “Whatever. Just don't start singing again.”

Shuuichi glances at Ouma as he reads the texts, chewing on one thumbnail. Ouma looks more open than he usually would about this sort of thing, but Shuuichi's not sure if it's intentional or not. He catches Kiibo's gaze, and the tight press of Kiibo's lips tells Shuuichi that he's noticed Ouma's focus on the phone. Shuuichi swallows and looks back at Ouma. His eyes, lined with dark circles and reflecting the screen, flick from side to side as he reads.

There are a few quiet moments before Ouma locks his phone and drops it into his lap, the white case standing out on his jeans. He leans back, his head resting on his seat, and he sighs. His face is completely blank.

“Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi keeps his voice quiet, careful. Ouma looks at him, expressionless for a few moments before he smiles the tiniest bit, tired and sad and relieved.

“It's okay, Saihara-chan. I mean it. He's okay.” Ouma gestures at his phone, his eyes wide. Tears start to fill up the corners, and Ouma's breath shakes, voice rising in pitch as he speaks. “Not that I was worried, of course. A supreme leader loses followers all the time; it's just part of the job. I wouldn't mind at all if I lost--”

Shuuichi wraps his arms around him, and Ouma promptly shuts up, leaning into him. He rests his head on Shuuichi's shoulder and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Shuuichi doesn't let go, doesn't shift as Ouma's breaths turn into small noises, gentle sobs and tiny laughs. He doesn't let go when Ouma's fists tug at the back of Shuuichi's hoodie as he cries, almost completely silent. Shuuichi can see over him as Kiibo looks back, his eyebrows shooting upward and face clouding over with concern.

“Is he--”

“He's okay.” Shuuichi pulls Ouma tighter, and Kiibo hesitates before nodding, turning back to the front of the car. Shuuichi is sure that Ouma doesn't want anyone to say anything, to make a scene out of this, so he just holds him, rubbing slow circles into his back as he trembles. Slowly, his breathing evens back out, sobs fading into sharp breaths into slow, normal breathing. The clenched fists in the back of Shuuichi's shirt relax, and Ouma leans into him more, his weight fully against him. His head drops onto Shuuichi's chest, falling into him.

Shuuichi realizes that Ouma's fallen asleep, exhausted from staying up all night, hiking, and from stress. From frantically trying to distract himself and everyone else from his feelings, from calming himself and Shuuichi down. Shuuichi swallows, then carefully shifts Ouma so that he's leaning against Shuuichi's shoulder, the top of his neck nestled against Shuuichi's neck. He sighs in his sleep when Shuuichi takes his hand, carefully tracing circles into the back of it with his thumb. Ouma twitches and turns slightly, but doesn't wake. Shuuichi breathes out, in tandem with him.

When he looks up, he catches Momota peeking back at them. He turns back to the front right away, but he knows Shuuichi's already seen him.

“Uh. Is he asleep?” Momota's whispering, still facing the front.

“Yeah.” Shuuichi uses his free hand to brush a piece of Ouma's hair to the side from where it'd been tickling his neck. Ouma sighs in his sleep, moving a tiny bit closer to Shuuichi's hand.

“Good. Is everything okay?” Momota gestures vaguely, visible from behind the chair.

“Yeah, I think so.” Shuuichi smiles just a tiny bit. Ouma is warm where he sleeps against him, his head a heavy weight on his shoulder.

Chapter 10: 11/5 - 11/11

Chapter Text

11/5

--

Shuuichi takes a step forward, looking down over the edge of the cliff, at the shimmering sea below. He takes a deep breath, stretches a hand out, into the mist rising up off of the water, even this high up. The navy blue sky sings, the stars bleeding silver and white into the water and the fog, crystal and monochrome. His skin is blue in the light, too, and Shuuichi wonders if he'd even fall if he took a step forward, if he'd plummet to the sea below, drown in the navy and the night. Or would the mist coil over his bare feet, hold him high above the surface, snake up around his legs and pull him apart, skin and hair and bones turned to silver moonlight and wispy cloud?

A noise. Shuuichi frowns, because this place is supposed to be silent, always. He turns around, but the empty expanse still stretches on, dark and calm. A flash of silver lightning flickers in the clouds above, and Shuuichi instinctively takes a step back, his foot landing on empty air. He twists around just in time to realize he's falling, that--

“Saihara-kun.” Shuuichi blinks open at the sensation of someone shaking his shoulder, the cold surface of a table below his cheek. He cracks his eyes open, squinting in the light, and sits up, rubbing his face.

“Have you not been sleeping well?” Shinguuji is watching Shuuichi carefully from the row in front of him in the lecture hall, standing and facing him with creased brows.

Shuuichi glances to his right, at Amami, before answering. “Sorry, I guess I just dozed off...” It's not actually an answer to Shinguuji's question, but neither of them seem to notice.

“You fell asleep about fifteen minutes into class,” Amami says. “You can borrow my notes if you want to copy them down.”

Shuuichi smiles and nods, starting to put his notebook and pens away. “Thanks, Amami-kun.” He zips his backpack shut, the noise echoing in the empty classroom.

“Are you feeling sick?” Shinguuji watches him, his face hard to read under his mask. “You don't strike me as the sort of person who would sleep through a lecture.”

Shuuichi feels his face heat up a tiny bit, and he distracts himself by slinging his bag over his shoulder and looking at the surface of the table. “No, I feel fine... I'm just more tired than usual, I guess.” It's true; ever since the hike yesterday morning, Shuuichi's had trouble keeping himself completely awake. It's like he'd picked up a heavy stone on that hike, a smooth piece of granite to hold under his tongue, like he's been carrying it ever since. It's probably because he isn't used to hiking, since he went to sleep early last night.

Amami frowns. “That's not good. Here, we'll go back to your room with you.” He straightens up, looking at Shinguuji. “You don't have any other classes, right?”

Shinguuji shakes his head, long hair shifting and shining in the fluorescent lights. “I do not.” He leans over, picking up his bag.

“Ah, you don't need to...” Shuuichi looks away, rubbing the back of his neck “I’m okay, really.”

Amami sighs. “Let us come with you. I'll worry otherwise.” He's smiling slightly when Shuuichi looks at him, but worry is still clear on his face. Shuuichi bites his lip and nods, taking a step towards the door of the classroom. Amami follows him out of their row in the lecture hall, and when Shuuichi opens the door, Shinguuji trails behind them.

“Did you go back to your room when we got back yesterday?” Amami matches pace with Shuuichi, walking beside him through the building. A few students make their way through the hall, but it's fairly empty, with a thick layer of silence filling the space.

“Yeah.” Shuuichi nods as Shinguuji moves to walk on his left. “I looked through my notes and then went to bed.”

Shinguuji makes a surprised noise. “We returned around four in the afternoon. Did you arrive later...?”

“No,” Amami says, shaking his head. “We got back around the same time you did.” He takes a deep breath. “Are you sure you're feeling alright, Saihara-kun?”

Shinguuji nods. “It certainly sounds like you're falling ill. Perhaps it was too cold in your cabin?”

Shuuichi looks down at the sidewalk as they step out of the building and into the cool air. “I don't feel like I'm sick... I'm just tired, really.” He offers them a smile. “A lot of stuff happened on the trip, and it wore me out, I guess.”

Amami sighs. “Did you eat dinner before you went to sleep, at least?” From his tone of voice, Shuuichi can tell he already knows the answer but doesn't want to be right.

Shuuichi doesn't say anything, because he hasn't actually eaten anything since the smore at the campfire, since Ouma held his hand and touched his face. He took the snacks Momota passed him and shoved them into his bag while he typed in the food from the night by the campfire into his app. He told Momota that he was too tired for the dining hall when they got back, numbers spinning in his head and choking him, reminding him that it was never a good idea to eat, to indulge. He didn't weigh himself this morning, but he's terrified to think about how he could have gained weight, how he could have swelled and stretched, smoke and sugar and grease pushing at his edges. So, Shuuichi hasn't eaten in almost forty-eight hours, and he doesn't want to see Amami's reaction if he found out.

Amami's face drops into a frown. “I guess that answers my question.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Have you eaten at all today?”

Shuuichi kicks a rock on the path. He keeps his eyes trained down, pretending that he can't see the sorrow on Amami's face, the disappointment.

“Forgive me if I'm being insensitive,” Shinguuji says, slowly. “But aren't you quite underweight, Saihara-kun? You shouldn't be skipping meals.”

There's a beat of silence before both Shuuichi and Amami speak at the same time.

“I'm not underweight.” Shuuichi's voice is soft, quieter than Amami's.

“He really shouldn't be.” Amami glares at him, their voices overlapping. Shinguuji blinks, taken aback.

“Saihara-kun, I have to agree with Amami-kun on this one. Undoubtedly, you're in no condition to be skipping meals.” Shinguuji brushes a piece of his hair out of his face when they stop at the entrance to the dorm hall. Shuuichi doesn't look at Amami as he unlocks the door, instead staring at his back.

“I-It's not a big deal... I-I--” Shuuichi takes a deep breath. “I eat a lot. Really.” Does it count as a lie if he believes it most of the time? Shuuichi's pretty sure that, science and Amami and logic aside, he should be eating less. He should be smaller, less obtrusive. Less worrying. If he was better at this, stronger, he wouldn't have fallen asleep in class and they wouldn't be worried about him.

Shuuichi jumps at the soft thud Amami's head makes when he leans to rest it against the door. He stands there, green hair obscuring his face.

“Amami-kun?” Shinguuji's brows crease the tiniest bit.

Amami moves away from the door and opens it, his face drawn into a deep frown as he let's Shuuichi and Shinguuji into the entrance area of the dorm. “Saihara-kun, you don't eat nearly enough, and you know that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I'll get some food at the dining hall and bring it to the room. You're on the third floor, right, Saihara-kun?”

Shuuichi nods, shifting on his feet. “Y-Yeah, third door on the left.” He looks down at the clean tile floor, at his dusty sneakers.

“Shinguuji-kun, can you go with Saihara-kun to his room? I'll get some food for you, too.”

“Yes, I can do that.” Shinguuji nods, then looks to Shuuichi. “Is that alright with you?”

The look on Amami's face says he doesn't have a choice, but Shuuichi's okay with it. Honestly, there's a lot of worse ways Amami could be handling this. The thought of eating in front of Shinguuji and Amami-- the thought of eating at all-- makes his throat tight and breath quick, but he nods anyway, relaxing slightly as he and Shinguuji start to walk again, moving towards the staircase. Shuuichi swallows as he sets a hand on the railing, not willing to trust his balance this time.

He's been trying to push it out of his mind, but he can feel the results of not eating. Everything feels a level removed, the connection between him and the world thin and pale and weak. It's like he's standing above his body, his legs cloaked in mist and fog, staring down at the world. His legs shake under his weight as he climbs the stairs.

“Saihara-kun,” Shinguuji says, his voice polite, even. “I don't mean to pry... But do you mind sharing what's going on with you? Amami-kun has been careful to protect your privacy, and while I understand that this is a delicate matter, it's gotten frustrating being in the dark.”

Shuuichi wipes his palms on his jeans. “He, uh... he hasn't told you anything?”

Shinguuji shakes his head, hair shifting in a waterfall of black. “No, but it's obvious something is wrong and that he knows more detail on the subject than most.”

Shuuichi nods as they step onto the third floor, trying to collect his thoughts. Should he tell Shinguuji? What would he tell him? That he has an issue with anxiety that involves food for some reason? That he's trying to lose weight because it's something he can do right? That he's calmer when the things he does can be recorded as objective fact, and his food intake is easiest to quantify so he controls it?

“I, uh.” Shuuichi can't finish what he was going to say. He can't admit to something that isn't true. He doesn't have a problem. He isn't sick. He doesn't have an eating disorder. He's just... tired.

“If I may,” Shinguuji pauses, and Shuuichi nods, his hands shaking as he tries to unlock he and Momota's room. “My suspicion is that you are anorexic.”

Shuuichi drops the keys. He starts to crouch to get them, his hands and knees trembling in time with one another, but Shinguuji beats him to it, leaning down and picking them up in one fluid motion.

“Are you okay?” Shinguuji's hair has fallen over one eye, and he gently tucks it back into place with the hand that isn't holding Shuuichi's keys,

“Y-yeah. I'm not... I'm not that.” Shuuichi takes his keys when Shinguuji hands them back to him, and he unlocks the door, swinging it open. “I'm--I'm just anxious. I'd be a lot tinier if I was--” Shuuichi's breath stutters in his throat. “If I was a-anorexic.”

Shinguuji makes a thinking noise as they step into the dorm room. “It isn't unusual for patients with eating disorders to have distorted body image.” He pauses in the doorway, looking around. “Oh, Momota-kun is your roommate, isn't he? Is he out?”

Shuuichi nods. “He's got class right now.” He kicks off his shoes, collecting his thoughts as Shinguuji does the same. “I don't think my body image is... distorted. I don't think I have an eating disorder.” He's choosing to ignore skipped meals, counted calories, hungry nights. He's on a diet. He's anxious. He has a fast metabolism and a weak appetite. He does not have an eating disorder.

“The first step to healing is admitting that you have a problem, isn't it?” Shinguuji tilts his head slightly. “I won't press, but it certainly seems that you are seriously ill.”

Shuuichi doesn't look at him, instead setting his backpack down beside the couch and moving back over to the table, gesturing at the seats. “Y-you can sit, if you want.” He curses his voice for catching, choosing to distract himself by pulling his chair out with clammy fingers. Shinguuji sits down across from him, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

“Let's talk about something else.” Shinguuji pauses, waits until Shuuichi nods. “Has anyone told you that I plan on studying abroad next fall?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Ah, no, I hadn't heard about that. Where do you plan on going?”

Shinguuji hums. “Well, nothing's finalized yet, but I was hoping for either Peru or Kenya. The programs there are centered around anthropology next year.”

Shuuichi nods, smiling a little bit. “That's so far away... I haven't even considered something like that.”

Shinguuji's smile is visible even through his mask. “That's not so surprising. After all, there's not much need for a detective to visit a foreign country.”

“Yeah,” Shuuichi chuckles. “Unless a suspect runs away to one, I guess.”

“In that case, you would probably have little choice.” Shinguuji shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly. Shuuichi realizes he's relaxing. “Have you been working on anything lately? I understand that you're not employed as a detective, but you strike me as the type to look at cases on the side.”

Shuuichi laughs nervously, looking down at the table. “Ah, no. I did a... poor job, on an important case a while back. It's probably for the best that I wait until I know what I'm doing.” He laughs again, hoping that Shinguuji won't fixate on that.

“Hmm.” Shinguuji's voice doesn't hint at any judgment, just curiosity. “Could you not work on smaller cases while in school? Missing pets, the sort of thing where not much is at stake.” Shuuichi looks up at him, at the friendly look on his face.

“That's... a really good idea.” Shuuichi nods. “Yeah, I could probably do that. Not for anything serious, but...”

Shinguuji nods. “I must admit, I do have an ulterior motive in asking. A friend of mine has lost something that she would like to retrieve.”

Shuuichi tilts his head. “Who is it?”

Shinguuji waves his hand, dismissive. “I'll see if she's interested, first. I can just ask her to text you, if that's okay?”

They must be in the study group, then. Shuuichi nods. “That's fine.”

Shinguuji looks like he's about to say something else, but two short knocks on the door cut him off. He stands up at the same time as Shuuichi, his chair squeaking against the floor.

“I'll get it, Saihara-kun. Amami-kun and I invited ourselves over, after all.” Shuuichi reluctantly sits back down, fidgeting in his seat as Shinguuji opens the door.

Amami steps inside, handing Shinguuji a bag of takeout boxes before taking his shoes off and setting them next to the others. “Sorry for the wait, it was pretty busy, even for this time of day.”

Shuuichi sort of wishes it’d taken longer, actually. “I-it’s fine.” He shifts awkwardly as Amami and Shinguuji walk over to the table, the two of them sitting down. “Um, what did you get?”

Amami smiles, leaning forward and opening the bag. “I got chicken enchiladas for me and Shinguuji, and I got you soup and fruit.” He pauses. “You’ll eat soup, right? I’ve only ever seen you eat fruit.”

Shuuichi’s hands shake where he’s hiding them under the table. “Yeah, I-I eat soup.” He looks down. There’s no way he can eat it in front of them, though. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to pretend he's not trembling.

Amami takes out two containers, passing them to Shuuichi. “Here.” One of the styrofoam cylinders is heavy and warm, the other slightly cooler than Shuuichi's hands and fairly light. He sets them down in front of him, prying the lid off of the soup. It's an orange color, creamy looking and nutty smelling. Shuuichi thinks it's probably pumpkin soup, which has been in the dining hall a few times. He's never tried it, intimidated by the fact that it could have lots of heavy cream in it. He opens the box next to the soup, revealing chunks of melon and pineapple. He breathes out slowly, relieved. If nothing else, he can eat this to appease Amami.

“Saihara-kun.” Shuuichi looks up to see Shinguuji offering him a plastic fork and spoon.

“Thanks.” He takes them, thankful that his hands aren't shaking visibly anymore. He sets them down on the table, watching Amami and Shinguuji start eating. The scent of paprika and tomatoes fill the space, and Shuuichi is swimming in it. Red sauce swirls in Amami's takeout container, seeping into the styrofoam. Shuuichi breathes it in.

Amami looks up at him, catches him staring. He frowns, brow creasing just the tiniest bit, and Shuuichi picks up his fork to appease him. He stabs a cube of pineapple, brings it to his lips. It tastes of metal and smoke and acid, sparking on his tongue like embers from a flame.

Amami smiles as Shuuichi chews the piece of fruit slowly, reducing it to mush in his mouth. He swallows, and his stomach does a flip, uneasy and upset. It's not even his anxiety, this time; although, he is anxious, his heart fluttering in his chest and his hands cold and clammy. The unsettling feeling in his stomach is something else entirely. He shoves a cube of melon into his mouth.

“Saihara-kun,” Amami says, swallowing the food in his mouth. “I’m sorry for pressuring you like this but...” He clears his throat, looking to the side. “Well. You remember before the trip, right? What we talked about?” He casts a sideways glance at Shinguuji.

Shuuichi blinks, realizing that Amami is trying to protect his privacy. “A-Ah, it's okay, Amami-kun. Shinguuji-kun... we talked about it, while we walked over here. He, um, knows.” Shuuichi swallows.

“Oh.” Amami blinks, then smiles a tiny bit. “I'm glad that you told him.”

Shinguuji chuckles. “It's a bit more like I guessed, but Saihara-kun was very open.” Shuuichi feels like he wasn't, actually, but that's fine.

“Ha, yeah.” Amami rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I told you about my sister and all, so I should have known you'd figure it out.” He scoops up a forkful of enchilada, holding it in front of him. “ Saihara-kun and I agreed that we'd go to the clinic after the camping trip.”

Shuuichi nods, staring down at his lap. He had kind of been hoping Amami had forgotten about that, because Shuuichi's not sure he could stand it. If he went and they opened him up, pulled out all the secrets and laid them bare, he would have nothing left to hold him together. He'd fall apart and blow away in the wind, nothing but dust. Or, even worse, they could tell him that he's been right all along; he isn't sick, just a bit stressed. If a doctor told him he was fine, that he was exaggerating, that he wasn't really ill and that his friends were worrying over nothing, he's pretty sure he'd never eat again. It's not that he wants to be sick, that he wants to be in pain, but if he feels the way he does, it's right, meant to be that he looks that way too. That when he's burning from the inside, he's disappearing into smoke on the outside.

“Oh, that's probably for the best.” Shinguuji sounds like he means it. “Are you going this weekend?”

Shuuichi looks up at Amami, who's looking at him. “I was thinking we'd try to go on Saturday, if that's okay with you, Saihara-kun?”

Shuuichi nods. “T-That's fine.” He may as well get it over with. The sooner he goes, the more he'll weigh. He's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, but he at least realizes that he's more likely to be sent to a hospital if he weighs less.

“Alright.” Amami breathes out slowly, loudly in the quiet room. “Good.”

Shinguuji looks up at Amami, his long hair shifting when he tilts his head. “Have you taken my advice yet yourself?” Shuuichi looks at him curiously.

Amami bites his lip and shakes his head. “I haven't had time.”

Shinguuji stirs his food around. “You should. It would be hypocritical if you didn't, would it not?” He takes a bite of enchilada, reminding Shuuichi that he's supposed to be eating too. Shuuichi dips his spoon into the soup, watching it cover the plastic slowly, thick and bright. He doesn’t eat it yet, staring at it and listening to Amami and Shinguuji talking instead.

“It would be.” Amami laughs suddenly. “Jeez, now I feel bad.”

Shinguuji chuckles. “Sorry, Amami-kun. I’m just keeping you honest.”

“What’s going on?” Shuuichi’s not sure if he should be asking in the first place, but he feels like Shinguuji wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t want Shuuichi to notice. Amami, on the other hand, seems embarrassed, but Shuuichi’s curiosity is prickling.

“Ah, I...” Amami swallows, setting down his fork. “Shinguuji-kun has been trying to get me to do something for myself, just take a weekend off and drive somewhere. I’ve been stressed lately, between school and the camping trip and going home to see my sisters whenever I have a free moment.” He sighs. “I think all of us are having a hard time, in our own ways, and I don’t really think I need to--”

“Amami-kun,” Shuuichi cuts him off. “You sound like I did when you tried to convince me to go to the clinic.”

Amami blinks, then laughs, his cheeks flushing the slightest bit. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. How’s this,” he leans forward, “not this weekend, but the next, I’ll go with the van and visit a park I’ve been wanting to go to.”

Shuuichi nods as Shinguuji talks. “I think that’s a great idea. You deserve the break.” Shinguuji glances at Shuuichi. “Just as you deserve to be healthy.”

Shuuichi smiles, his cheeks growing warm. He doesn’t say anything, instead bringing the spoonful of soup to his mouth. It’s warm and delicious.

--

11/7

--

Yumeno (12:32 p.m.): saihara are you in class rn?

Shuuichi (12:33 p.m.): no, i’m eating lunch

Yumeno (12:33 p.m.): okay cool so sh*tgoojeez told me that you were looking for some detective cases to solve

Shuuichi (12:33 p.m.): sh*tgoojeez?

Yumeno (12:34 p.m.): shinguuji

Shuuichi (12:34 p.m.): oh

Shuuichi (12:35 p.m.): i wouldn’t say i’m looking for them necessarily, but if there’s something you need help with i’d be willing?

Yumeno (12:35 p.m.): somebody stole my hat

Shuuichi (12:35 p.m.): the one you wear all the time?

Yumeno (12:36 p.m.): yeah that one

Shuuichi (12:37 p.m.): sorry to ask, but how do you know for sure that it was stolen?

Yumeno (12:37 p.m.): they left a note

Shuuichi (12:38 p.m.): oh. what does it say??

Yumeno (12:39 p.m.): uploaded image_6254.jpg

Yumeno (12:39 p.m.): see

Shuuichi (12:40 p.m.): well, that would indicate that it’d been stolen, yeah.

Shuuichi (12:41 p.m): i think i have a theory as to who took it, actually

Yumeno (12:42 p.m.): no i already know that it's ouma

Shuuichi (12:43 p.m.): wait what do you need my help with then?

Yumeno (12:43 p.m.): he won't tell me where he hid it

Yumeno (12:43 p.m.): and i'm not paying the ransom because it'd be a huge pain

Shuuichi (12:44 p.m.): i can try and find it for you. do you have any other information?

Yumeno (12:45 p.m.): uhhh he took it some time after the trip but before i went to bed sunday night, probably while i was in the shower, and it's not in his room according to kiibs

Shuuichi (12:46 p.m.): alright, i'll see what i can do

--

11/10

--

“You okay?” Amami glances back at Shuuichi from where he's walking just a couple of steps ahead of him. Shuuichi nods, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and focusing on the sensation of soft, warm fabric.

“Just a little nervous.” He sighs, the air puffing out around his face. It’s unusually cold today, and Shuuichi wishes he’d worn a thicker jacket.

Amami nods. “I would be more surprised if you weren’t, to be honest.” He stops and pulls the door to the health center open, holding it for Shuuichi. Shuuichi ducks inside, grateful for the rush of warm air on his chilled skin. It’s brightly lit and mostly empty inside, with a lady waiting behind a counter off to the side. They start towards it, Amami slightly ahead of Shuuichi.

“Can I help you?” The woman smiles at them, her black hair shining in the light of the room.

“A-ah, I have an appointment, um.” Shuuichi swallows. “For Saihara?”

The lady types into a computer just out of Shuuichi's view. “Saihara Shuuichi-san?” She looks to him, and he nods. “Great. Dr. Ellis will be available shortly.”

Shuuichi takes a step back before turning and sitting down in one of the waiting area chairs. Amami sits down beside him, crossing one leg over the other.

“It's going to be fine.” Amami looks at him and smiles slightly. “Okay? So stop looking so nervous.”

Shuuichi chuckles under his breath. “Sorry.”

“You're an adult, right?” Shuuichi nods, and Amami continues. “Then they can't force you to do anything that you don't want to unless you're on death's door. That, and everything they suggest is to help you.” Amami smiles, and Shuuichi thinks he's probably trying to be reassuring. “This is all in your best interest.”

Shuuichi is going to reply, going to say something agreeable while he thinks about this all being the exact opposite of his best interest, just increasing his stress and his anxiety while it comforts his friends, but a tall, grey-haired man pokes his head out of a door.

“Saihara-kun?” He looks at Amami first, then Shuuichi. They're the only ones in the waiting room, so he must know it's one of them. Shuuichi stands up, wiping his palms on his jeans, and starts in that direction. He can hear Amami's footsteps behind him.

“I'm Dr. Ellis, pleased to meet you.” He holds the door open for them, and they walk into a small examination room. The walls are painted a pale blue, the floors the same cream tile as the waiting area, and there's an exam bed lined with white paper against the far wall. It smells like antiseptic.

“Which one of you two is Saihara-kun?” Dr. Ellis picks up a clipboard and pulls a pen off of it, clicking it and marking something down.

“A-Ah, that's me...” Shuuichi smiles anxiously at Dr. Ellis.

“Alrighty, Saihara-kun. You can have a seat over there if you'd like.” He gestures to the exam bed. “What's the main reason for your visit today?”

Shuuichi hoists himself up onto the table, the paper crinkling underneath him. “I'm, um...”

“He's here because I asked him to come.” Amami's scratching this side of his cheek, looking a little embarrassed. Dr. Ellis makes a noise of acknowledgment and looks at him. “Saihara-kun has lost a lot of weight recently, and it's been worrying me. One of my sisters was in the hospital with anorexia nervosa last year, so I'm hyper-attuned to it, I guess.”

Dr. Ellis nods. “Well, let's start off by weighing Saihara-kun and taking some vitals, then. Follow me.” He turns around and opens a door that Shuuichi hadn’t spotted before now, the same blue color as the wall and only a tiny gap and the doorknob giving it away. The detective part of Shuuichi’s mind supplies that it would be quite easy to hide something back there, so long as nobody looked too closely.

The hallway beyond the door is just as brightly lit as the waiting room, and Shuuichi thinks that it must connect to all of the other rooms in the health center. Neat doors in various shades of pastel dot the cream colored walls, breaking up the hall and making it look like something in a children’s coloring book. Shuuichi thinks that’s deceptive, given how anxious this building is making him right now. He wipes his palms on his jeans again as Dr. Ellis opens a yellow door, revealing a scale and a table with a thermometer, blood pressure cuff, and stethoscope on it.

“Normally I would have our nurse do this, but she's out today.” Dr. Ellis holds the door open for Shuuichi and Amami. “Saihara-kun, you can take off your shoes and jacket and step onto the scale.”

Shuuichi nods, kicking off his shoes and setting them carefully beside the door. He shivers when he pulls his jacket off if his arms, goosebumps pulling to life on his skin. He steps onto the scale, his stomach flipping and spinning. The top bar flops to the side, and Dr. Ellis reaches around him to move the sliders. The scale hovers in balance.

“99.8 pounds.” Dr. Ellis steps to the side and starts to write on his clipboard, frowning. “How tall are you, Saihara-kun? Still 5’9’’?”

Shuuichi nods, stepping down onto the floor and accepting his jacket from Amami when he hands it to him. “Y-yeah.”

Dr. Ellis making a thinking noise. “Alright, I'm going to take your temperature next.”

--

Shuuichi sits on the exam table, holding out his arm and letting Dr. Ellis slide the blood pressure cuff off of him. He marks the result down on his clipboard, then turns and sets them both down on the desk. Shuuichi watches, nerves bubbling and mixing with 99.8 and double digits in his chest.

Dr. Ellis turns back around, looking at Amami first, then Shuuichi. “Well, Saihara-kun, you're severely underweight. It's quite possible that if you continue on the path you're on, your life could be at risk.” He sighs. “I'm going to ask you some questions used in the evaluation of eating behavior next, okay?”

Shuuichi nods, shifting uneasily. The paper crinkles beneath him, and he takes a slow, deep breath. He should tell the truth here, and he knows it-- that's what's scaring him.

“Alright. Have you been losing weight on purpose?”

Shuuichi swallows, then nods.

Dr. Ellis doesn't look surprised. “Have you been counting calories or fat content of your food?”

Shuuichi nods again, not meeting Dr. Ellis’s eyes this time.

“Do you intend on losing more weight?”

“Y-yeah.” Shuuichi's voice is soft, his throat choked up. He can hear Amami's sharp breath, and he wants to dive off of a cliff.

Dr. Ellis picks his clipboard back up, and it makes a clinking sound where it hits the table. “Have you ever made yourself sick?”

Shuuichi blinks, then shakes his head furiously. “N-no, I wouldn't do that.” What would the point be? It's not like he lets himself eat enough that it'd matter.

“Good.” Dr. Ellis crosses something off. “Have you ever taken laxatives, fasted, or exercised excessively to compensate for eating?”

Shuuichi shakes his head, staring at the tiles on the floor below.

“Actually,” Amami says, his voice quiet, “We had a camping trip last weekend, and Saihara-kun didn't eat for the next two days after.” Shuuichi feels betrayal, sour and bitter and hot. Amami made him eat, so it doesn't count. He didn't really not eat.

Dr. Ellis nods, scribbling on the paper. “Thanks for letting me know.” He looks back at Shuuichi. “Have you ever consumed a large amount of food in a short period of time and felt guilty for it?”

Shuuichi frowns, his brow furrowing. “I, um, I feel guilty almost every time I eat, but...” He swallows. “The most I've eaten since this started was at the camping trip.”

Dr. Ellis nods. “Do you remember what you ate there?”

Shuuichi reaches his hand into his phone pocket, taking it out. “I have it here...” He opens the app, scrolls back to the trip, and holds it up to Dr. Ellis. He peers at it, lips pursed, then straightens back up.

“Well, that's not anywhere close to qualifying as a binge. One more question. How do you see your body, Saihara-kun?”

Shuuichi shoves his phone into his jacket pocket and keeps his hands there, hoping it hides the way they're shaking. His breaths grow the tiniest bit quicker, his heartbeat the smallest bit louder as he tries to put together something coherent on how he sees himself.

“I, um. I think I'm about average?” Shuuichi's mouth is so dry that it's hard to talk at all. “I'm not obese, or anything. I just... I have some extra fat, you know? I could stand to lose a little weight. Especially on my hips and my thighs. It's like, I know I should be small by now, and I can tell I've lost weight, but I feel like it should look more dramatic. I look a lot bigger than I should.” Shuuichi digs his nails into his palms, hidden in his jacket pocket. He focuses on the pain, on the sars prickling in his hands and not the rising tide of anxiety, the flickering fire of shame. He knows it's embarrassing, that it's shameful. He doesn't look 99.8 pounds, doesn't look sick, doesn't look like someone with an eating disorder. He looks like a normal boy, just pretending at being ill so he can have his friends fawn at him. Shuuichi looks at Dr. Ellis, watches him scrawl onto his clipboard. He looks at Amami, and wishes he hadn't. The look of disappointment but not surprise is too much, even for the second it takes Amami to morph his face into something more reassuring.

“Saihara-kun, I'm going to go ahead and diagnose you with anorexia nervosa, restrictive subtype.” Dr. Ellis sets the clipboard down on the desk, pulling a drawer open and shuffling around inside of it. “Based on your BMI and symptoms, I personally think inpatient treatment would be best, but outpatient is still an option for you since your vital signs are fine.” He hands Shuuichi two colorful pamphlets, with pictures of smiling teenage girls on them. He stares at them, not reading the words.

“Saihara-kun?” Dr. Ellis seems to be waiting for him to say something.

“I--” Shuuichi stops, takes a breath. “I don't want to go to treatment.”

Amami speaks up, his voice serious. “Saihara-kun, that's not really an option. You either get better, or you die.”

Dr. Ellis nods. “You don't have to stay at a hospital--that's inpatient-- but if you don't gain around 20 pounds, your life is in constant danger.”

His words hit Shuuichi like a knife to the ribs. His breath seizes up in his chest, like it's frozen into ice inside his lungs, sharp and hard and cold. When he tries to breathe, he just shakes, curling forward to rest his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His heartbeat is a drum in his ears, playing a rhythm of the world ending and his mind crawling outside of his body to escape the pounding beat, the choke and pressure in his head and his chest. He can't move, can't think, can't breathe, can’t--

Shuuichi is fire and smoke and twist and burn, snapping and cracking into pieces. He is embers and coals smashed to pieces under heavy boots and gain 20 pounds, a mosaic of pain and bleeding and heat. He is shattered and the shards are too too sharp in his lungs, choking him, but it doesn't matter because the smoke is too thick to breathe anyway. Shuuichi is melting and dissolving and-- there's a hand on his shoulder. Someone's talking to him.

“Saihara-kun, breathe. Saihara-kun.” It's Amami, low and worried and close. “You need to breathe, okay? You're okay.”

Shuuichi nods, hopes that Amami can tell, and he tries to inhale normally, his chest protesting and fighting. It comes out as a short wheeze, desperate and far away. Shuuichi feels light-headed, and he realizes he's been hyperventilating. He reaches a shaky hand out blindly, and a warm hand closes around it.

“Hey, hey.” Shuuichi gets his eyes open, and he looks up at Amami's face, sees sharp concern even though his vision is swirling. “You're safe. You're okay. Can you try and take a deep breath for me?”

Shuuichi nods, his head bobbing shakily, and he starts to breathe in slowly, uneven and wobbly. He manages the whole breath, his head spinning at the sensation of breath.

“Saihara-kun,” Dr. Ellis says, calm and collected. “Could you take this for me?” He holds out a small paper cup, and Shuuichi reaches out, hands shaky and breath starting to falter again. He tips it back into his mouth, swallowing the pill inside. Dr. Ellis passes him a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, hands trembling so much he nearly drops it. The ache in his chest hasn't faded, and Amami rubs his back as his struggles to breathe, anxiety coiled tight inside of him. He presses his eyes shut and focuses on the sensation of Amami's hand, of the table beneath him, of the press of his fingers into his face. Shuuichi breathes, slow and deliberate.

Slowly, he straightens up, curling his hands in his lap and staring down at them, pale fingers contrasting his dark jeans.

“Hey,” Amami says, “doing any better?”

Shuuichi nods. “Y-yeah, sorry.” He squeezes his hands into fists, then relaxes them. “I'm okay now.”

“Does this happen often?” Dr. Ellis looks concerned, a crease between his eyebrows.

Shuuichi starts to shake his head, then stops. “Uh, maybe... two or three times a week?” He watches Dr. Ellis's eyebrows raise.

“That's often. I'd prefer if you saw a psychiatrist, but until then, I'm going to write you a prescription for what I just gave you.” He moves around Shuuichi and Amami, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a prescription pad. “I'm going to give you a referral to Dr. Moore too. She's a psychiatrist, and while her main office is off campus, she makes visits out here every now and then.” He starts writing. “You can call her and either go into town or arrange for her to meet you here.”

Shuuichi hesitates, then nods. He doesn't say anything else, just savoring the lack of panic. He feels calm, far away. Cloudy.

“Do you think you'd be willing to do that?” Amami's voice is gentle but worried next to him. Shuuichi feels like he's a thin piece of glass being passed back and forth between Amami and Dr. Ellis.

“I-I’ll think about it.” He looks at the pamphlets, which had been set to the side during his panic attack. “And that.” He waves to them. “I'll think about it.”

Amami smiles the smallest bit, nodding. “Good. That's good.” He chuckles the tiniest bit. “I'll make sure you do.”

--

Shuuichi sits in the floor of the bathroom, the tile cold and hard beneath his bare skin. He counts his breaths-- five for each inhale, six for each exhale-- as he traces figure eights in the skin of his thigh. His breath puffs out around him, slow and heavy.

It's late, and Momota isn't in the dorm room. Shuuichi doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know why. He knows the liquid exhaustion pumping through his limbs, the swirling thoughts and emotions in his head, the fog of a day light on food, humming and singing in his arms, legs, head. Shuuichi is tired. He's so, so tired, and when the medicine Dr. Ellis made him take-- alprazolam, Xanax, highly- addictive-take-with-caution according to the blonde pharmacist at the clinic-- wore off, the anxiety returned, scorching his insides. He told Amami he would think about it. Treatment. He thought about it, on the walk back to the dorms, thought about eating more and gaining weight through the blanket of calm that sprouted and grew from the medicated seed in his belly. Shuuichi can't remember if he reached a conclusion, but he knows what he wants now. He can't gain weight. He can't.

Shuuichi hauls himself off of the ground, the air hot like fire compared to the freezing surface of the floor. He leans forward, hips against the corner of the sink, wearing only his boxers. Another Shuuichi looks back at him, hair mussed up and eyes ringed with shadow. He doesn't look at his body, just his eyes, and he decides.

Shuuichi isn't going to gain weight. He isn't going to stop. He isn't willing to give this up, even if he has to lie to keep it.

--

11/11

--

“A-Ah, careful!” Shuuichi steps forward as if that would help if Ouma fell. He's managed to get himself perched between two thick branches of the apple tree, leaves hanging down in his face as he looks down at Shuuichi and giggles.

“Aww, Saihara-chan is worried about me! How sweet~!” Ouma scoots forward, closer to a bright red apple. “I want this one, though. None of the others are good enough!”

Shuuichi sighs, even though he's smiling. “There's a whole orchard, Ouma-kun...”

Ouma's fingers wrap around the apple and tug, ripping it loose from the tree and sending all of the leaves into a flurry of movement. “But this is the best apple, Saihara-chan! I'm an expert, you know.”

Shuuichi laughs. “I doubt that.” He watches Ouma inch backwards until he reaches the trunk of the tree. “Do you want to drop that down to me? It'd make it easier to get down.”

“So considerate!” Ouma holds the apple out, over the air just in front of Shuuichi. “Here.” The apple tumbles out of his hands, and Shuuichi catches it easily. It's smooth, slightly fuzzy, and cool from the autumn air. He smiles, setting it carefully on top of the other apples in the basket. When he looks back up, Ouma is about halfway down the tree trunk, shimmying down like he's been climbing trees every day his whole life. Maybe he has. Shuuichi wouldn't be surprised, honestly.

Ouma steps onto the ground, shoe making a soft crunch in the loose, dark soil. There's a leaf in his hair, green-yellow in the midst of purple-black. Shuuichi steps forward and pulls it free before he really thinks about it. Ouma blinks at him, surprise on his face for the shortest moment before his face splits into a grin that Shuuichi suspects is completely real.

“Wow, Saihara-chan is like my mom! Trying to replace Toujou-chan, huh?” Ouma leans down and picks up his apple from the basket, tossing it between his hands without looking at it. Shuuichi is mesmerized by the movements.

“I don't really want to be your mom, Ouma-kun.”

“Oh?” Ouma stops tossing the apple and leans forward, one finger reaching up to poke Shuuichi's nose. He sees it coming but doesn't move away. “Would you rather be my something else?”

Shuuichi's cheeks start to heat up. “O-Ouma-kun...” He starts to process the question, actually consider it, but Ouma speaks again before he can actually think about it.

“I was just joking, jeez! Saihara-chan is soooo easily embarrassed.” Ouma rolls his eyes so hard it moves his whole head. “We've already paid, right? Let's go find somewhere to sit and eat!”

Shuuichi nods, following Ouma as he starts to walk, juggling the apple between his hands again. Dry leaves, resplendent in red and gold, crunch under their feet as a crow caws from one of the trees. Shuuichi looks around, trying to spot its black feathers in the green and yellow and ruby red, but his eyes keep locking on Ouma's hair. The dark haired boy is humming, bouncing on his feet while he walks, and Shuuichi finds himself talking without even realizing.

“I really like seeing you like this.” His face heats up as he realizes what he's just said.

Ouma looks back at him, face curious. “What does that mean, Saihara-chan?”

“I just... like when we go places together, but also...” Shuuichi is sure he's beet red by now. “I like it when you're happy?”

Ouma stares at him, face blank and eyes wide, before his expression crumples into his normal grin. “But I'm always happy.”

Shuuichi shakes his head and takes another step forward even though Ouma's not walking forward anymore. They're alone in this part of the orchard, only the whispers of leaves in the wind and the blush of the apples to keep them company. Shuuichi thinks that he's not anxious in a good way very often.

“I like it when you're really happy.” Shuuichi smiles at Ouma, and Ouma smiles back at him-- really smiles, the side of his cheeks stretching and his eyes turning up. He leans forward, closer to Shuuichi, and before Shuuichi is really aware of what's happening, Ouma's tugging him closer by his collar and dropping the apple into the basket he's holding. A warm hand rests on his cheek as Ouma kisses him, soft and chaste, while his other hand drifts from Shuuichi's collar to his shoulder. Shuuichi wishes he wasn't holding the basket. He sets his free hand on Ouma's arm, his fingers barely brushing the fabric of his jacket.

Ouma pulls away first, a light smile on his face. Shuuichi stares at his lips. “Was that okay, Saihara-chan?” His voice is quiet, quieter than the leaves or the wind.

Shuuichi nods. “Y-yeah. Yeah. That was--” He swallows and nods, vigorously. Words seem to be failing him, but that was more than okay. It feels like the sun is glowing inside of him, bright and warm.

He looks down just long enough to set the basket down, then puts one hand on either side of Ouma's face and pulls him in for another kiss. Ouma seems startled, which Shuuichi thinks is kind of funny given how he started this, but after a beat, Ouma wraps one arm around Shuuichi's waist, the other on his shoulder again. This kiss is more insistent, more energetic-- mostly because Shuuichi's not surprised anymore. He's not sure why they hadn't done this yet, actually. When he pulls away to breathe, Ouma's eyes are shut, his face smooth and calm and happy. His eyes open slowly, violet shining like purple fire.

“Does this mean that Saihara-chan is my boyfriend now?” Ouma giggles, the noise loud when Shuuichi's this close to him.

Shuuichi licks his lips, nodding. “If that's what you want? I-I would like that.”

Ouma leans forward, touching their foreheads together. “Saihara-chan is alllllll mine now!” He giggles again, bubbly and soft.

Shuuichi shifts his arms, tugging Ouma's hands off of him so that they're holding hands in between their bodies. “Yeah, I am.”

Ouma grins wider, then pulls away, hopping back with the basket in his hands. “Let's go find a picnic table and consummate our marriage on it! C’mon, Saihara-chan!” He walks backward, almost skipping through the trees, and Shuuichi takes a few steps after him.

“W-what? We're not married...” Shuuichi reaches out and grabs Ouma's shoulder, stopping him. “You're going to hit a tree if you do that, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma pouts. “Wow, Saihara-chan already wants a divorce? How cruel!” He turns around, heading off in the same direction. “Juuuust kidding! That was a joke, obviously.”

Shuuichi smiles and shakes his head, starting after Ouma. It feels like no matter what he does, the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile against his will. It's like his blood has turned into soda, bubbles rising and popping cheerfully inside of him.

Ouma points. “There!” Barely visible between the leaves, an old, wooden picnic table sits alone in a clearing. Shuuichi picks up the pace, moving towards it faster, and Ouma copies him, humming and swinging his arms as he walks.

Ouma reaches the table first, sitting on the table top and resting his feet on the seat. He grins as Shuuichi sits down (in the seat, properly) next to him.

“You know, they design tables with seats for a reason.” Shuuichi rests his chin on his hand, looking up at Ouma.

“Yeah, so losers like you can be beneath me!” Ouma snickers as he reaches into the basket, pulling out the apple he'd climbed the tree to get earlier. “Hey, Saihara-chan, do you have a knife?”

Shuuichi blinks, frowning. “No?” He’s about to ask why Ouma wants a knife, of all things, when Ouma pulls an iridescent purple pocket knife out of his jacket pocket and opens it.

“Guess I’ll just use mine!” Ouma presses the knife into the top of the apple, twisting it in his hands. The peel starts to fall away in a long piece and Ouma turns the apple.

Shuuichi feels like he has whiplash. “O-Ouma-kun, be careful...” He falls silent as Ouma finishes peeling the apple, dropping the peel to the ground below.

“Don’t worry Saihara-chan, I’ve never hurt myself cutting apples before!” Ouma winks at him, then starts to slice the apple into pieces in his hand without even looking at it. Shuuichi doesn’t say anything for fear of distracting him, watching the blade of the knife cut out a neat triangle of snow white apple. Ouma sets the knife on his lap, holding the piece of apple out to Shuuichi.

Shuuichi blinks. “Is this...?” Ouma nods, and Shuuichi reaches up to take the apple from him, the surface slightly damp under his fingers. He holds it for a moment before carefully biting into it, tart and sweet on his tongue. He swallows the bite and smiles at Ouma. This is the first thing he’s eaten today, and it’s fruit, so it’s fine. He puts the rest of the slice in his mouth, the flavor clean and sharp and bright. Ouma grins at him.

“See? Apples taste better when they’ve been cut this way.” He cuts out another wedge and pops it into his mouth, giggling around a mouthful of fruit.

Shuuichi smiles at him. “It is a really good apple.”

“Yeah? I’ll cut another piece for my beloved Saihara-chan!” Ouma digs the knife into the apple quicker than before, and he makes a small yelping noise, jerking back and dropping the apple onto the dusty ground.

“Ouma-kun?!” Shuuichi tries to look at Ouma’s hand, wide-eyed at the sight of blood.

“This is nothing!” Ouma laughs, even though he’s wincing. “I did that on purpose.”

“Right.” Shuuichi ignores him, standing up and pulling the knife out of Ouma’s uninjured hand. He closes the blade and sets it on the table next to them, turning back to look at the injury, but he can’t see very well because Ouma’s pressing his other hand into the wound. Shuuichi can smell the blood, acrid and heavy.

“You should see the look on your face, Saihara-chan!” Ouma’s face is paler than normal, and he’s grimacing. “Hah... what a good prank.”

“Ouma-kun, are you okay?” Shuuichi frowns. “It’s okay to be honest when you’re hurt.”

Ouma shakes his head. “It’s stupid, Saihara-chan. I’m just dizzy because I startled myself with how good my joke was.”

Shuuichi frowns and gently takes Ouma’s hands, careful of the injury. “Let’s get back to the building, okay? They’ll definitely have a first aid kid inside.”

Ouma nods. “M’kay.” He hops off of the picnic table, not protesting when Shuuichi sets his arm on his shoulders, steadying him.

Chapter 11: 11/14

Chapter Text

11/14

--

“I'm so excited!” Akamatsu pumps her fist in the air, her smile so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes. “This was such a good idea.”

Momota nods vigorously beside Shuuichi. “Yeah! We're gonna hafta let Toujou and Yumeno know how cool this is.”

Shuuichi watches Akamatsu and Momota laugh, and he turns to Harukawa where she stands to his left. “Are you excited too, Harukawa-san?”

Harukawa shrugs. “I've never done this before, so it's just a regular dinner for me.” She folds her arms over her chest, bare arms practically glowing against her dark red dress.

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah, I've never really done Thanksgiving either, since my uncle was usually busy with work.” He chuckles, scratching his cheek. “We'd have some pie though, and he always made stuffing since it was my favorite.”

Harukawa looks at him, her gaze long and unreadable, before he turns her head away just slightly and tugs at a piece of her hair. “...I hope there's pie.”

Shuuichi smiles. “I can't imagine there wouldn't be. And I'm looking forward to it too.”

“Good!” Akamatsu turns around, apparently done talking to Momota. “Let's get going then! I don't want to wait any longer.”

Shuuichi chuckles, the laugh bubbling up in his chest. “Alright, we can go then. It's not like we're not ready.”

Akamatsu nods happily, then looks to Momota. “You're driving, right?”

Momota give them all a thumbs up and a toothy grin. “Yup! Time to pile into the Kaito-mobile!”

Harukawa sighs loudly. “I still can't believe you call it that.” She shakes her head, looking incredibly disappointed.

“What?” Momota frowns. “It's my car, and I think it's cool!”

Harukawa sighs again. “Whatever, I don't actually care. Let's get going.” She spins on her heels and opens the door out of her and Akamatsu's dorm room, her shoes clicking on the tile floor outside.

“Wait, Harumaki!” Momota hurries after her, letting the door fall shut after him.

Akamatsu smiles nervously, rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry... I think she might be a little jealous...”

Shuuichi tilts his head. “Jealous? But her and Momota-kun aren't--”

Akamatsu cuts him off with a surprised laugh. “Oh, no, I know that! We're dating, silly.”

Shuuichi blinks. “You are?”

Akamatsu nods, her hair bouncing with the movement. “Mhmm! Not for very long, though. She was just telling me the other day about how she wishes she could get excited openly like my other friends, and I told her not to worry about it, but--”

“Hey!” Momota opens the door, peeking his head back in. “Are you two coming or what?”

“Y-yeah, sorry!” Shuuichi pats his pockets, confirming that he hasn't left his keys, wallet, or phone in one of the dorm rooms, and steps out into the hall with Harukawa and Momota. Akamatsu follows close behind him, moving to stand by Harukawa once they're all out of the room. Harukawa locks the door, and they all start for the stairs.

“I always forget which floor I'm on in this building.” Momota waves his hand at the wall. “They need more decorations in the hallways. It all looks the same.”

“Yeah,” Akamatsu says, looking around. “Maybe we can talk to the RAs about putting up some decorations?”

“I can ask Nevermind about it.” Shuuichi looks at Harukawa, surprised.

“Nevermind?” Momota just look confused.

Harukawa nods. “She’s the RA for Akamatsu and I’s floor.” She tugs at a piece of her hair. “She helped me get into the room when Akamatsu was at a concert and I lost my keys.”

Akamatsu grins and hold up a finger. “Oh, and she’s a princess! Like, for real.”

Momota and Shuuichi look at each other. “For real? Wow, and our RA is just some completely ordinary guy.”

Shuuichi laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Hinata-kun is a nice person...”

Momota waves a hand as they reach the bottom of the staircase. “Whatever, at least he's not like the RA for the top floor. I've heard he makes all of the people on his floor work out and he gives them all mandatory massages.”

“What?!” Akamatsu looks offended. “Isn't that like... illegal?”

Momota shrugs. “From what I've heard, they're actually really good massages, but it still sounds creepy when you think about it.” He opens the door, and Shuuichi steps through into the cool breeze. The sun is just starting to set, a golden yellow dipping into the horizon, painting the dorm building’s red bricks a beautiful rose. Shuuichi watches the black smear of Momota's shadow as they walk to the parking lot.

“I still feel bad for not bringing any food...” Akamatsu folds her arms over her chest, puffing out her cheeks.

“It's not your fault, Akamatsu-san.” Shuuichi smiles faintly at her. “Our building doesn't have student kitchens.”

“I know, but it feels weird not bringing anything to a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Just don't think of it as Thanksgiving, then,” Momota says, spinning around to walk backwards. “It's pretty early, after all.”

“Only a week and a half.” Akamatsu shakes her head. “Whatever! I know Toujou-san and the others are great cooks, so it should be fine!”

“Yeah!” Momota pumps his fist in the air. “She said she was roasting two turkeys! That's a lot of turkeys!”

Harukawa rolls her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”

They both giggle, and Shuuichi can't help but smile too, even though he's pretty nervous about the whole thing. He hasn't had anything close to the size of a Thanksgiving dinner since this started, and with Amami on his back lately... it's going to be rough. He can feel the rattle of the pills in his pocket, just a few, tucked into an empty mint tin he stole from Momota's desk. They clank and clatter with the fear in his chest.

“Here we are!” Momota waves a hand at his car, which has been (very badly) painted purple since Shuuichi last rode in it, as well as dented.

“I hate this car.” Harukawa walks around to the back passenger side and opens the door, grimacing.

“He's beautiful! Right, Shuuichi?” Momota looks very invested in Shuuichi's answer to this question.

“Um.” Shuuichi stares at the crushed back bumper. “What happened to it?”

“Him,” Momota says. “And I got rear ended because some guy was on the phone. I'm a very safe driver, you know that, Shuuichi.”

Shuuichi nods. “I believe you, Momota-kun.” Shuuichi does not, however, believe in his taste in cars. When he moves to open the door closest to him, for the seat behind the driver, he realizes that the interior has been covered in purple blankets. It looks soft, at least.

“What are you doing, Shuuichi?” Shuuichi looks over to Momota and sends him what he hopes is a questioning look. “You're riding shotgun, bro.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Oh.” He steps away from the door and turns around, catching Akamatsu’s eyes and smile as he passes. The passenger seat isn't covered in blankets, but still plenty comfortable when he sits down. Momota's car smells like sage and clean clothing. Shuuichi doesn't remember any of it from when he went to brunch with Momota ages ago, doesn't remember the scratch on the window, doesn't remember the little stars dangling from the rearview mirror, but it's obvious that Momota really loves his car. Shuuichi has to stop himself from smiling.

Momota turns the key, and the engine leaps to life. “Alrighty, so, do any of you know where it is?”

“You volunteered to drive, but you don't know where it is.” Harukawa doesn't even sound surprised.

“We all voted, remember? It's at the convention center just west of downtown. We rented out the kitchen and an adjacent room.” Akamatsu laughs. “Here, I'll pull up Google maps.”

“Thanks, Akamatsu.” Momota starts to drive out of the parking lot, eyes on the road.

“No problem.” She taps her phone screen. “Okay, just take the main road going off campus,” she leans forward, pointing, “that one, and don't get off until after the bridge.”

“Got it.” Momota turns onto the road, and the ruby red light of the setting sun spills through the window, onto Shuuichi's lap. It's pleasantly warm.

“So, what are you guys doing for actual Thanksgiving?” Akamatsu asks.

“I'm going back to see my grandparents.” Momota pauses as he switches lanes, turn signal clicking on and then off. “They miss me a lot, you know? It's sort of expensive to fly, but I don't want to drive eight hours both ways.”

Akamatsu hums. “Yeah, that'd suck. I'm glad I live close by; it makes it really easy.” She twists in her seat, catching Shuuichi's eyes. “What about you, Saihara-kun?”

Shuuichi swallows. “Ah, I'm flying home too...” He's not sure how much of a Thanksgiving it'll be, but his uncle had practically begged him to come visit. He'd even promised to take three or four days off of work, so they could spend some time together.

“Harukawa-san?” Akamatsu seems determined to figure out all of their plans.

“I'm staying here.” Harukawa doesn't sound like she cares. “There's no point in going back. Everyone I knew at the orphanage has already left.”

Shuuichi can see Akamatsu nodding sympathetically, but not the expression on Harukawa's face. He supposes it wouldn't matter, given how she doesn't show a lot of feeling in the first place.

“Turn here?” Momota's got his turn signal on already.

“Yeah, and then it's on the left. We could have walked if it wasn't over the river.”

“I could have walked.” Harukawa sounds so sure of herself, and Shuuichi finds himself smiling.

“What?! Harumaki, you'd get soaked!” Momota turns the car onto the street, and Shuuichi watches the sunset through the trees, red and gold wrapping the nearly-bare boughs of oaks and elms.

“No, I'd walk on the bridge.”

“You'd get hit by a car.” It sounds like Akamatsu has had this conversation with her before. “That's it up ahead, Momota-kun.”

“I know!” He turns his blinker on, getting in the turn lane.

Shuuichi takes a deep breath as they pull into the parking lot of the convention center. It's mostly empty, only a few cars parked as close to the building as possible without being in a handicapped space. Momota parks next to Amami's car, and when he stops, Shuuichi has to squeeze through his door to avoid hitting it.

“I'm so excited!!” Akamatsu's voice is loud on the other side of the car. “It looks like most of us are already here, too! I can't wait!”

“You’ve really been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” Shuuichi feels like he should be more excited himself at this point.

Akamatsu laughs from where she steps up onto the sidewalk, waiting for the rest of them to join her. “I’m just really happy that everyone is friends with each other. The sixteen of us being this close is really important to me.”

Shuuichi nods. “That makes sense.” It could have gone so many other ways, Shuuichi thinks. There’s a lot of worse things than being in a study group with 16 people who care about you.

Shuuichi pauses as Akamatsu tugs open the door, warm air from the building rushing out to greet them. Shuuichi follows his friends inside, glancing around. The building is pretty and modern, but deserted.

“Where's our group?” Momota's looking around, his head swinging side to side.

“Toujou-san said to go all the way to the back. It's the last door on the left.” Akamatsu points up ahead, at a grey door. It doesn't take long for the four of them to reach it, and Akamatsu holds it open as Shuuichi walks in.

Inside, it's warmly lit, with a long table laden with plates of food, all covered in plastic wrap or lids. Folding chairs surround the table, and the plaid brown and green tablecloth makes the white plastic of the plates stand out. For college students, it's pretty impressive.

Shuuichi smiles at the familiar faces, at Yonaga, Shirogane, Chabashira, and Yumeno sitting on the floor and playing cards. He scans the room as Momota and Harukawa walk in beside him, and he spots Amami, Kiibo, and Ouma standing in a corner of the room, talking.

“Can I...” Shuuichi looks to Momota, gesturing vaguely in their direction.

“You don't need to ask permission, Shuuichi. Go ahead!” Momota gives him a thumbs up. “I'm gonna go find Toujou and ask if she needs any help in the kitchen.”

“Oh, that's a good idea!” Akamatsu grins. “I'll come too.”

Harukawa sighs, turning to follow them. “Didn't you say you'd never boiled water before? What are you going to do to help?” Shuuichi watches their backs as they move towards a door at the other end of the room, Harukawa and Akamatsu's dresses swirling around their legs. He realizes they're the same dress-- one in black and the other in pink, but the same cut and shape.

Shuuichi turns and walks over to where he can see Ouma bouncing in place, either excited about something or pretending to be. Kiibo catches his eye when he gets closer and waves, the navy blue of his button down making his teal eyes shine.

“Saihara-kun! We were wondering when you would arrive.” Kiibo smiles at him.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting...” Shuuichi rubs the back of his neck. “We kept getting distracted in the dorms.”

“Oooh, did Saihara-chan do something dirty with Momota-chan? Should I be jealous?” Ouma doesn't look bothered in the slightest, much less jealous, so Shuuichi decides this is a joke.

“We didn't do anything, Ouma-kun.” A flash of white catches Shuuichi's eyes. “You're wearing a bandage?”

Ouma giggles and holds his hand up so Shuuichi can see, wiggling his fingers where they poke out of the gauze. “Well, duh! That's what the nurse told me to do. You were there, Saihara-chan!”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “You refused to keep it covered for the past three days.” He carefully reaches out, takes Ouma's hand in his, avoiding the spot where he knows a deep gash hides. “I'm glad you're taking care of it, though.” He traces his fingers over the edge of the bandage at Ouma's wrist, grazes the pale skin there.

“Yeah, he wouldn't listen to me even when I threatened him, but Amami-kun shows up to get us for this and says,” Kiibo makes air quotes “'Isn’t it a bad idea to keep that out in the open?’ and Ouma's practically falling over himself to bandage it.”

Shuuichi looks to Amami curiously, but Amami just shrugs. “I don't know either.”

“It's because Amami-oniichan asked me so nicely!” Ouma giggles, leaning forward. His hand presses into Shuuichi's as he goes up on the tips of his toes.

“Oniichan?” Shuuichi squints. “What?”

“Well, because oniichan acts like everyone's big brother, I decided it made more sense for me too call him that!” Ouma's hand is holding Shuuichi's far too tightly, the bandages digging into his skin.

“O-Ouma-kun, you're going to hurt yourself...” Shuuichi pulls his hand closer to his chest, and Ouma all but falls into him. Amami and Kiibo look on in alarm as Ouma giggles against Shuuichi's collar.

“Is my beloved Saihara-chan worried about me?” Ouma's breath is warm and damp. Shuuichi looks away from too-bright violet eyes, at Amami and Kiibo.

“Is he drunk?” His breath smells like nothing, but Shuuichi can't think of a whole lot of other reasons why he'd be acting like this.

Kiibo rolls his eyes. “He's pretending to be. Kokichi, stop it.”

Ouma just laughs, moving his unbandaged hand to Shuuichi's shoulder and shifting so he's more balanced, less about to fall and more just pressed against him.

“I'm just drunk on Saihara-chan~!” He tilts his head so that his hair brushes up against Shuuichi's chin, soft and fluffy.

“O-Ouma-kun...” Shuuichi is sure that he's beyond bright red at this point. “That's...”

Kiibo groans. “We get it, you two are dating. It's not like you've shut up about it since Sunday.”

“They're dating?” Amami looks at Kiibo, then at Ouma and Shuuichi. “You're dating?”

“W-we’re dating.” Shuuichi wiggles his hand free, the one that isn't holding Ouma's. He sets it on Ouma's shoulder. Ouma doesn't move, doesn't make any noise. “Ouma-kun?”

Ouma pulls his head back, looking up at Shuuichi. His grin stretches from ear to ear, a faint blush on his cheeks. “What, Saihara-chan?”

Shuuichi just stares at him. “Are you going to lean on me all night, or...?”

Ouma moves back, pouting. “You're so mean to me! Maybe I'll break up with you and date Kiibaby instead.”

“No, you won't.” Kiibo crosses his arms over his chest, and Shuuichi laughs at the serious expression on his face. After a beat, Amami and Ouma start to laugh along with him, and Kiibo's scowl relaxes into a smile.

“Should we go sit down?” Amami gestures behind him, and Shuuichi turns to see people starting to take seats at the table. “I think we're going to start eating soon.”

“Yeah, let's go!” Kiibo starts forward, Amami following him. Shuuichi waits until Ouma starts walking before moving side by side with him.

“Is your hand okay?” He passes at Ouma's confused look. “You were leaning on it pretty hard.”

Ouma holds it in front of his face, and Shuuichi looks for blood on the bandage. It's clean. “It didn't hurt at all, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi snorts. “That's a lie.”

“Aww, you saw right through me! But it really doesn't hurt anymore. That's true, I promise.” He wiggles his fingers, as if that proves it, then drops his hand. “Is Saihara-chan's head okay?”

“My head?” Shuuichi feels his brows furrow.

“Yeah, your head!” Ouma reaches up and pats him. “You’re not making yourself all worried, right?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Oh.” Ouma wants to know if he's anxious? “I'm alright, Ouma-kun. Don't worry about it.”

Ouma makes a skeptical noise. “Hmm, well, if Saihara-chan starts feeling bad, he should let me know. That's what boyfriends are for, right?”

Shuuichi looks at the floor, his cheeks heating up. “Y-yeah. Thanks, Ouma-kun.”

“Ooh, Saihara-chan, we should go sit by Amami-niichan and Kiibaby! Look, you can even sit by Momota-chan!” Ouma points, and Shuuichi sees the Amami is sitting to Kiibo's left, with two empty chairs between Kiibo and Momota. Harukawa and Akamatsu sit on Momota's other side, talking about something while Momota listens in.

Shuuichi follows Ouma over to the seats and sits down, the chair squeaking against the floor as he pulls it out.

“Hey, there you are!” Momota turns in his seat and grins at him.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi smiles at him. “I guess we're about to eat, huh?”

“Yup! Just waiting on Gokuhara and Chabashira to carry out the turkey plates.” Momota waves in the direction of the back door, which swings open as soon as Shuuichi turns to look at it. Chabashira walks out, a platter in her hands, with Gokuhara ducking under the door frame behind her. Shuuichi can smell the meat, sharp and metal and salty. He watches, his mouth suddenly too moist, as they set the turkeys into the empty spaces on the table. Shuuichi curls his fingers under the lip of the metal folding chair, letting the icy edge dig into his hand. He wishes he wasn't hungry.

Toujou stands up where she was sitting, on the far left side of the table. As Chabashira and Gokuhara sit down, the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. “Thank you all for making this possible, and for being here. I thought, since this is a Thanksgiving dinner, that it would be appropriate for me to express my gratitude for all of you.” Toujou pauses, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. “You may not believe it, but I was nervous about going to university. This study group has helped me so much, in being a better person both to myself and others. Thank you, all of you, for letting me serve you with this dinner tonight.”

“You're welcome, Toujou-san!” Akamatsu is the first one to speak, her voice loud and bright.

“We should be thanking you. You did most of the work, after all.” Shinguuji is clearly smiling too, even under his mask.

“A toast!” Shirogane leans forward across the table, grabbing the glass of water in front of her. “To Toujou-san!”

Toujou blinks in surprise, then laughs. “No, a toast to all of us. To the study group.” She picks up her glass, and Shuuichi follows suit, the surface cold and slippery with condensation.

“Cheers!” Momota holds his glass to Shuuichi, and they clink glasses. The room fills with the sound of glass bells and happy voices, and Shuuichi loses track of who he bumps cups with. When it starts to settle down, he takes a sip from his glass, even though he's too cold. The water feels like ice slipping down his throat, pure and clear. Shuuichi hasn't eaten since breakfast, which isn't that long, really, but the food smells far too good. It's not fair. Water is safer, easier. He doesn't have to think about it.

“Let's eat!” Momota's the first one to start, reaching forward and pulling the tinfoil off of a plate of buttery potatoes. Shuuichi can see the flecks of black pepper on the cream colored chunks of potato, the rusty red skin. They look crispy, warm. Shuuichi sips at his water.

Ouma elbows him. “Saihara-chan, pass the cranberry sauce?” He points at a bowl that Harukawa's opened and is spooning out onto her plate. Shuuichi catches her eye, and she holds it out to him. The jar is cold, but not as much as his glass was. Shuuichi hands it to Ouma wordlessly, and he doesn't miss the way Harukawa frowns.

She whispers something to Momota, who turns to Shuuichi. “Hey, bro, you should eat something.” His voice is quiet enough that only Shuuichi can hear him, and he gestures at the rest of the table. “Everyone else is getting started. If you wait, there might not be any left!”

That's not a particularly compelling argument to Shuuichi, but he nods anyway. “D-Do you know if there's any stuffing?”

Momota blinks like that was the last thing he'd been expecting, then grins. “Yeah, there's some right over there!” He points to a casserole dish in Shuuichi's other side, close to Amami.

Shuuichi nods. “Thanks, Momota-kun.” He turns so he's facing Amami better. “Amami-kun?”

Amami looks at him, setting down the tongs from a dish of brussel sprouts. “What's up?”

“Pass the stuffing?” Shuuichi points at it, and he's rewarded with a lopsided smile from Amami.

“No problem, Saihara-kun.” He picks up the dish and hands it to Kiibo, who hands it to Ouma.

“Here you go, Saihara-chan!” Ouma hands it to him, their fingertips brushing slightly as he lets go. The container is warm and heavy in his hand as Shuuichi scoops a small spoonful onto his plate. It smells like rosemary, butter, and grease. He tries to breathe through his mouth, but that’s worse-- the smell, the aroma, seeps into his tongue, his throat. He feels wrong when his stomach grumbles silently in his belly.

Shuuichi sets the container back on the table and glances back at Amami, who waves at the plates in front of him. A tablespoon or two of stuffing isn’t going to fool him. Shuuichi grabs a pair of tongs and starts putting broccoli onto his plate, piece by piece. He’ll fill his plate and watch it, not take a bite. If Amami asks, he’ll grin and say he’s on seconds. Shuuichi puts some of those crispy potatoes on the plate, then a stuffed mushroom.

He's not even sure what he's doing when his fork pierces a potato, the caramelized, cooked edge cracking and giving under the pressure. It slides onto the plastic easily, and Shuuichi lifts it to his mouth. It tastes like fire and earth.

He looks back at Amami, but the green haired man is talking to Shinguuji where he sits across the table, not paying any attention to Shuuichi. Which is good. It means Shuuichi can stop eating. He shoves a buttery brussel sprout in his mouth, trying not to grimace as the grease rolls under his teeth, slimy and rich. The stuffing tastes the same, but softer, gooier. Shuuichi gulps water from his glass, trying to wash away the taste of cooking oil and salt. It doesn't work, because he's so hungry and before he knows it, he's eating another chunk of potato. Everyone around him is talking, relaxed, and Shuuichi feels like a raw nerve, electricity and fire burning on a bed of butter and rosemary. His head aches as he swallows another bite. God, he's so disgusting. Everyone's here, and he's eating so much, so fast. Nobody's going to believe him anymore, they're going to think he's been faking the whole time, lying about his anxiety, his personality, his everything. He is lying. If he really had a problem, he wouldn't be eating right now. He wouldn't be scraping the last fragments of stuffing off of his empty plate, licking them off the side of the fork hungrily. What had the doctor said? Restrictive? What a joke.

Shuuichi downs the rest of his glass of water and pushes back his chair. Momota turns at the noise, but Shuuichi speaks before he can.

“Bathroom. I'll be right back.” He doesn't wait for an answer, standing up and walking to the door. He saw a restroom on the way in, he's sure of it. As he walks, the liquid heat of food in his belly sloshes and churns, and Shuuichi is a water balloon of blood and bile. He can taste potatoes climbing up his throat, black pepper and salt and regret.

It's blissfully cold inside of the bathroom when Shuuichi throws the door open and steps inside. He catches a look at himself in the mirror, red ringed eyes and flushed cheeks, bloated and soft and floppy. He bites his lip and digs his nails into his hands, turning away from the mirror and opening a stall. It occurs to him that he is about to do something he will regret later, but it's not the first thought on his mind as he leans forward and pulls his hair, trying to catch his breath. He has to fix this. He's so full, he's eaten so much, he's going to get so fat. Shuuichi presses a shaky hand to the swell of his stomach under his ribs.

Nothing happens except he feels even worse, physically. Shuuichi shifts, leaning forward more. Does he have to stick his fingers down his throat? He's nauseous enough already, and when he presses harder into his abdomen, the contents of his stomach threaten to escape but don't actually do anything. Shuuichi sobs, desperate and frustrated and furious at himself, and slides his right index and middle finger into his mouth. His hand is salty with dried sweat, and he recoils at the taste but doesn't stop, reaching far back into his throat.

Shuuichi gags once, saliva dripping from his lips. Nothing comes up, though, and since he's already this far into it he may as well keep going. His fingers are bruising against his stomach, nails scratching at the back of his throat. A mouthful of oily water comes up, gushing over his fingers, hot and unpleasant. Shuuichi coughs around his fingers, pulling his hand out and wiping it across his mouth. He's shaking violently, and he leans one knee against the toilet seat for balance, praying that it's not dirty. He takes a moment, eyes shut tight and gasping, then shoves his hand back into his mouth.

He gags quicker this time, and a solid, slimy mass of partially digested food rises up in his throat, spilling bitter and heavy into the toilet. Shuuichi shuts his eyes and keeps moving his fingers where they burn like fire in his throat. A flush of bitter vomit pours out of him, more than the last one. He pulls his hand out of his throat and stares at it, thick strands of yellow bile swirled with flecks of undigested broccoli pieces cling to his fingers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and reaches with his other hand for the toilet paper. His stomach aches both inside and out as he wipes his hand clean, then his mouth, methodically, distant. Everything hurts, and Shuuichi wishes he could just curl up in his bed and sleep. An ugly sob crawls up his chest, and he flushes the toilet, watching his dinner swirl and sink. He almost falls to his knees on the way to the sink, fingers struggling with the lock on the stall door and then with the tap. The cold water burns his hands, but he holds them there, not looking at himself in the mirror and not thinking about what he'd just done, about the fact that there's probably more food in his stomach, about the acid smell of sick clinging to him. Shuuichi shuts his eyes, his breath rushing through him in choked noises and quiet sobs. The air around him feels too heavy, too thick as he sinks to the floor and backs up into the wall, pressing his dripping wet hands to his face and trying in vain to breathe. His lungs are white ash in his chest, burned to a crisp and about to dissolve. The world is far away and painful, bitter and spiteful and cold like the bathroom floor. Shuuichi leans his head forward, onto his knees, and listens to the gasping and stuttering of his own breath, feels the cold water and the sharp tug when he pulls at his hair. He's disgusting.

The door creaks, and Shuuichi's breath stops. He freezes. Someone's been in the doorway for at least the tail end of this mess.

“sh*ttyhara?” It's Iruma's voice, not Momota or Amami or Ouma. “You're in here, right?”

Shuuichi can't say anything, but he doesn't have to because Iruma steps into the bathroom, her tall, silver heels clacking onto the tile next to Shuuichi. Her arms are folded as she looks down at Shuuichi, silver and black dress dark in the dim light. She looks less angry than normal, and she sighs, long and slow.

“You're really f*cked up, aren't you?” It doesn't sound mean, and for some reason, it makes Shuuichi laugh, sharp and hard in his throat.

“Yeah.” It's small, quiet between half formed gasps. Shuuichi runs a hand through his hair, trying to breath more normally. It's not working very well.

“Hey, sh*ttyhara, breathe.” Iruma crouches down, frowning. Shuuichi thinks that if he looked, he could see her panties right now, but he's more concerned with the fact that he can't breathe at all, anxiety swirling and popping in the empty space in his stomach, where the sting of his fingers still sits.

He gasps, heavy and weak against his knees, breath warm and wet on his hands. Iruma sighs and turns, plopping down next to him and leaning her back against the wall. Shuuichi reaches a hand into his pocket, fumbling with the tin of pills, his hands slick with sweat. Iruma watches him pull it out, and when he can't get it open, she takes it from him, opening it easily.

“How many?” She pours three onto her hand.

“O-one.” Shuuichi takes it from her, and the container snaps when she closes it and sets it on the floor beside him.

“I'm gonna get you some water. Don’t even think about moving.” She stands up and marches out of the bathroom, her hair swinging behind her. Shuuichi swallows the pill, but it sticks in his throat. He digs his nails into his calves, the pressure sharp even through his pants, and he focuses on it instead of the ragged edge in his chest.

The door opens again, and Iruma holds out a bottle of water. “Here. I even opened it for you.” Shuuichi reaches up and takes it, careful not to let it spill. As he gulps down a mouthful of ice cold water, Iruma sits back down next to him.

“Don't drink too fast or you'll make yourself f*cking sick.” Iruma stretches out her legs. “More than right now.”

Shuuichi nods, moving the water between his legs instead and holding it as tightly as he can without crushing the bottle. He's still shaking, still gasping, and his chest still throbs with pain in time to his heartbeat. The cold in his hands and against his back and legs is grounding, like Iruma's presence. Shuuichi wonders if she thinks he's just sick, or if she knows exactly what just happened.

“Y’know,” she starts, and Shuuichi thinks he's about to find out exactly what she thinks. “This is a really f*cking awful idea. Throwing up, I mean.” She waves a hand at Shuuichi. “You die real fast from it.”

Shuuichi swallows, the rush of his heartbeat starting to slow to the rhythm of Xanax. He takes a small sip of water, doesn't say a word.

“I used to do this sh*t too. The throwing up. Even a girl genius like myself makes mistakes.” She laughs, but she's not smiling. “I stopped, obviously. Only because I realized it was killing me. I thought I couldn't lose any more weight if I'd died, so I had to stay alive.”

Shuuichi stares at her, at the redness on her cheeks, the deep scowl of her mouth. “You... I...” He can't come up with anything, so he shuts his mouth and breathes in and out, slowly.

“Yeah, I know. It was a dumbass reason, but it worked for a while.” She groans, slumping down. “You better have something to stay alive for, sh*ttyhara. 'Cause if you don't, the great Miu is going to have to get involved.”

Shuuichi slides his hands down from his knees to his ankles, the sensation of fabric under his hands soothing. “I'm not suicidal, Iruma-san.”

She snorts. “Well, that's good, but it's not what I meant. Doesn't matter if you're actively suicidal or not if you've got an eating disorder. You're still killing yourself.”

Shuuichi stares at the shadow of the sink on the tile, dark and long. “I know.” His voice is a whisper, low and tiny and meek.

Iruma doesn't say anything for a few minutes, and when she does, her voice is wet with emotion. “Y’gotta take care of yourself. And not just jacking off. I mean in general.” Shuuichi watches her extend her right hand out in front of her, a patch of dark scar tissue over her knuckles on her index and middle fingers. “Living like this isn't really living. It sucks, and it hurts you and everyone around you. And getting skinny isn't worth it because you can't see it, can you?”

Shuuichi shakes his head, thinks about the layers of padding and chub around his stomach, his hips, his thighs. “That's because I'm not skinny.”

Iruma laughs. “Oh, Saihara. Your eyes are so broken.”

Shuuichi stares at his lap. “I'm broken.”

Iruma is silent for a long moment, the emptiness of the bathroom swirling around them, then a pale hand comes to rests on his knee. “No,” her voice is soft and gentle, especially for her, “you're hurting. This isn't something that's impossible to recover from.”

Shuuichi nods, even though he doesn't quite believe it, and they sit together on the bathroom floor until someone comes looking for them.

Chapter 12: 11/14 - 11/19

Chapter Text

11/15

--

The air is dark and thick around him, a heavy mist of iron and salt. Shuuichi tips his head back, stares up at the sky, but there’s nothing but fog above him. He licks his lips.

He looks forward again, at Momota. His hands are out in front of him, palms extended upwards, and he’s saying something, pleading. Shuuichi tosses the bat from his left hand to his right, feeling the weight of the cold metal on his palm. The way Momota’s face lights up with fear, the way he turns and starts to run when Shuuichi lifts the bat, the way his head cracks open with a sickening thud, dark blood coating the slick metal, it sends a shiver down Shuuichi’s spine, something dark and hungry. He looks down at the body--no, at Momota-- and feels his heart pump faster. His eyes don’t move from the corpse as he walks forward, slowly, to the edge of the fence.

He doesn’t have to see Akamatsu to know where she’s hiding; short, muffled sobs leak out from behind the shed. Shuuichi thinks that it would have been better had she gone inside, been trapped, but it seems she’s too smart for that. Whatever. Shuuichi tips the bat back so it rests on his shoulder, the smell of blood stronger now that it’s closer to his face. Maybe Akamatsu will smell it too and start running. Shuuichi steps around the corner and swings, connecting with the crown of Akamatsu’s head before she has a chance to look surprised. She crumples to the ground, limp and heavy. Shuuichi laughs, loud and clear, wheezy and high pitched. The others can wait, he thinks, crouching down. Akamatsu’s eyes are open, clear and the same violet pink, glowing in the light. Shuuichi reaches forward with his free hand, dips his fingertips into the glistening blood, smears it down her cheek. He brings his hand to his mouth, and it tastes like bile.

Shuuichi stands up and almost falls over again as he backpedals, eyes wide and breath quick. Akamatsu is-- Momota is-- He--

Shuuichi hasn’t dropped the bat. He screams, too loud and too angry in the dark field, and brings it down on his own head. His head doesn’t crack and cave, his body doesn’t drop and fall, and he doesn’t die. He gasps, air hot and metallic in his tongue, forehead wet and painful where the bat hit him. It’s their blood, not his. Shuuichi sinks to the ground, the earth hard and painful on his knees, and he buries his head in his hands. He killed them; he wants to die, to split his head open and bleed out slow, to crush his skull and taste the metal of his own blood, to bleed and bleed and break and bleed and

--

“Shuuichi? Shuuichi, wake up, please.” It’s Momota’s voice, hurried and soft. Shuuichi jerks into a sitting position, trying to scramble back but finding the hard wall behind him. He hits his head on it.

Momota breathes out, then leans back. Shuuichi can see his pajamas in the dim light. “Oh, thank goodness. I know you’re not supposed to wake people up from nightmares, but you were starting to scratch your face and I thought you were going to hurt yourself or something so I--” Momota stops, stares at Shuuichi, then leans forwards and wraps his arms around him. “Hey, don’t cry. It was just a dream. You’re safe now.”

Shuuichi reaches up a hand, feels wet warmth on his cheeks. He remembers the blood from Akamatsu's body and shudders, leaning into Momota. “I-- I--”

Momota holds him tighter. “Shh. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It was just a dream.”

Shuuichi shakes his head, then buries his face into Momota's shoulder. “I k-killed you. And Akamatsu-san. I was gonna kill more people.” His voice is strange and muffled to his ears, watery and too shaky.

“You didn't. I'm right here, aren't I?” Momota rubs his back gently. “Should I get your medicine? It's in your desk, right?”

“N-no,” Shuuichi shakes his head. “I'm not having a panic attack I'm just...”

“Scared?” Momota finishes his sentence for him. “That's okay. You're okay. I trust you, Shuuichi. You had a bad dream, but that's all it was. You'd never actually hurt any of us.”

Shuuichi nods, but all he can think about is Amami crying, Momota whispering his worries to Harukawa from behind a door, his heart hurting when Kiibo and Ouma were upset. He is hurting them. He's hurting them so much, and when they figure out that he's not getting, it's going to hurt a lot more.

“I know,” he says. “Thank you, Momota-kun.”

--

11/17

--

“Kiibo, is this really a good idea...?” Shuuichi glances uneasily around Kiibo and Ouma's shared dorm room. It's messier than the last time he was here, notebooks and dirty clothes strewn all over the floor. Judging by their size and coloring, none of them are Kiibo's. There’s garbage, too, empty soda bottles and candy, piled on the couch and floor, the shiny wrappers glinting in the light. Shuuichi wonders if Ouma actually ate all of this, or if he just opened them to make a mess.

“Yes! Kokichi has been absolutely insufferable since I made him go to the clinic for ripping his stitches. It's like he doesn't get that I'm trying to help him!” Kiibo groans. “He's acting like a little kid. I mean, look at this!” He gestures at the kitchen, and Shuuichi has to agree. Everything that can be turned upside down has been, and all available surfaces are covered in purple sticky notes. There's a Kiibo shaped magnet holding a page of a p*rno magazine onto the fridge. Shuuichi sure how Ouma managed to fill the sink with milk, but he did, and it’s starting to smell.

“Where did he even find the time to do this?” Shuuichi traces one fingertip along the table, which has been covered with a fine white powder. “I mean, the two of you have similar schedules, don't you?” He sniffs the powder on his finger, but it's odorless.

“Who knows?” Kiibo sighs. “He probably skipped class to get it done.”

Shuuichi tastes the powder. It's sugar, and it probably says a lot about how his mental state is that he wonders how many calories are in the tiny bit he just put in his mouth. He can feel it seeping into him, trickling down his throat. He squeezes his nails into the palm of his hand, trying to ignore the lingering taste. “Can I use your restroom?”

Kiibo blinks. “Yeah, sure.” Shuuichi turns around and opens it, unsurprised to find it as messy as the rest of their dorm had been. Shutting the door behind him, he glances at the mirror before looking away. That’s probably not a great idea. All he really sees is a flash of his hair, bluer than normal in the lighting of the dorms. He stands there, not looking at himself, for what feels like an appropriate amount of time to be doing his business, then flushes the toilet and runs the tap, rinsing his mouth out with water. It's silly and pointless, he knows, but it settles the small spark of anxiety that had started to smolder in his chest.

Shuuichi steps back into the main room to see Kiibo sitting on he and Ouma's shared couch, a handful of Ouma's purple pens on his lap and a devious smile on his face.

“Hey, Saihara-kun.” Kiibo holds up a pen. “I think I know how we can prank Kokichi back.”

Shuuichi frowns. “Please tell me we aren't covering anything in ink.”

Kiibo laughs and rolls his eyes. “No! I'm not going to do anything that'll end in my stuff getting messed up. Why don't we switch all of Kokichi's purple pens for yellow ink?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Uh...” He's not exactly sure of the point of that.

“Yellow is his least favorite color, and with this type of pen, you can't see the ink color until you start writing. And,” Kiibo sighs, still smiling. “you know how Kokichi is.”

Shuuichi remembers a day months ago, where Ouma asked for his pen and said he only owns purple ones himself. “Do you think it'll work?” At the very least, it isn't a dangerous prank. Shuuichi thinks that, had he and Momota been planning this, at least one injury would be involved.

“I think it'll annoy him, especially since I don't plan on telling him where we put the purple ink cartridges.” Kiibo stands up, holding the pens in his hand. “I think we need to go shopping.”

--

Shuuichi is at the library, copying over his history notes into another notebook, when his phone rings. It buzzes against the table, loud and clear in the silent room. Another student glares at him, and he can feel heat rising to his face as he shoves it in his pocket and shuts his notebook, dumping everything into his backpack. He'll sort it out later, when his phone isn't buzzing insistently at his hip. Shuuichi slings his bag over his shoulder and hurries outside, the warm air of the library disappearing as he steps out onto the sidewalk. A breeze ruffles his hair and makes him shiver as he drops his bag to the ground at him feet and takes out his phone. It's Ouma.

“Hello?” For a second, Shuuichi thinks that Ouma's left his phone alone, or dialed him by mistake, but he hears a sharp intake of breath, followed by a horrible wail. Shuuichi holds the phone away from his ear, wincing.

“Saihara-chan!” Ouma sobs, exaggerated and loud. “Kiibaby and you are big meanies! You ruined my pens! Soiled their innocence!” He hiccups, and Shuuichi tries to keep his sigh quiet enough that Ouma can't hear it.

“Ouma-kun, it's easier to understand you when you aren't fake crying.” Shuuichi could understand what he was saying just fine, but his ear was already protesting at the volume, and that sort of white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Ouma sighs noisily into the phone, the sobs behind his voice gone in an instant. “Wow, Saihara-chan, I could have been crying for real. Then you'd be the biggest bully.” He pauses, and Shuuichi is about to talk when Ouma makes a frustrated noise, staticky and loud over the phone. “But really, Saihara-chan. Where are my pens?”

Shuuichi hears Kiibo's voice, undecipherable, but whatever he says seems to set Ouma off again, because he sniffles and then sobs. “Kiibaby, you're the worst! The worst! How could you be so mean to someone like me? Your closest friend?”

“Ouma-kun, the fake--”

“I prefer the term crocodile tears, actually.” His voice is normal, but heavier, almost angry. “Do you know where the ink is?” Ah. Kiibo must have told him that he already had the pens, which is true since the only thing they actually took was the violet tubes of ink sitting in Shuuichi's room back at the dorm. He sighs, picks up his bag, and starts walking. By the end of this conversation, Ouma will likely either know where the ink is, or he'll meet Kiibo's demands. Shuuichi should at least be at his dorm in case Ouma tries to get inside.

“Why don't you do what Kiib--”

“I'm not cleaning up!” Ouma sounds like a petulant child. “Kiiboy brought it on himself!”

Shuuichi sighs. “Because he made you go to the health center?”

“Yeah!” Ouma's voice is louder, like he's pressing the phone to his mouth. “He made me get more stitches and it hurt!”

“He was just looking out for you,” Shuuichi says, opening the door to the dorm building. It’s too hot inside after the cold wind on the sidewalks, and Shuuichi finds himself wishing he’d worn one less layer.

“Well, I didn't want him to.” Ouma groans. “Why can't you two just mind your own business?”

Shuuichi starts up the stairs, trying not to slip as he all but runs up them. Frustration is building at his temples, even though he wants to be patient, but Ouma is whiny and loud and he has a headache. “Because you could get hurt,” Shuuichi sighs. “Kiibo-kun and I just want to make sure you're safe. Getting stitches may hurt, but it'd be worse if you didn't go to the health center and something permanent happened because you didn't get it checked.”

Shuuichi steps onto the stairwell on the second floor, and the door opens suddenly enough to startle him. He stares into Ouma's eyes, wide and violently bright, a sarcastically happy grin on his face. The phone against Shuuichi's cheek beeps as Ouma hangs up.

“Exactly, Saihara-chan.” Ouma reaches forward and grabs his arm, tugging him into the second floor. “C’mon.”

Shuuichi feels like he has whiplash, and that’s probably why he lets Ouma pull him along the whole way to his dorm room. It’s unlocked, and Ouma just opens the door before pushing Shuuichi into the space. Shuuichi’s still trying to process the fact that Ouma was waiting for him by the staircase (did he know that he would come back to his room? a lucky guess?), and it’s only when Ouma walks in, shutting the door behind him, that he realizes it’s spotless inside.

“You... cleaned up?” He blinks, his eyes taking in the room. It’s obvious that Ouma did more than just pick up his things; the floor is swept clean of any dust, the kitchen area neat and orderly. It smells like roses.

“Yeah, well,” Ouma examines his nails. “I know that I should listen to my friends when they’re trying to help me, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi feels his brow furrow. “Then why did you mess with the room in the first place?”

Ouma stares at him, blank faced for a moment before grinning. “Because I wanted to confuse you, duh! Jeez, Saihara-chan, you think you’d know me better by now.”

Something in Shuuichi’s head says that he’s missing something, but he brushes it aside. “Do you want your ink back, then?” Shuuichi spots a shock of white hair through the open door of one of the bedrooms. “Oh, hello Kiibo-kun! I didn’t see you there.”

“Hello, Saihara-kun.” Kiibo waves, barely visible from his bedroom. “You can give them back to him, it’s fine.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Are you okay?” It seems weird for Kiibo to not move from his bedroom, to not participate in this conversation.

There’s a beat of silence. “I was hanging out with Iruma. Before this.” He sighs, loud even from the other room. “I’m worn out. Plus, Kokichi is exhausting.”

Shuuichi frowns, because there’s no way he meant he was doing that with Iruma, right? It could be something else. Iruma can be a hanful in general, so there’s no reason to think that there’s anything dirty going on. “Ah... okay. I’ll take Ouma-kun to my room then.”

Kiibo makes an agreeing noise. “I’m going to sleep this off. I need to tell Iruma that we can't do this on school days...” Shuuichi realizes that Kiibo isn't using an honorific with her name, and he swallows. He'll unpack that later.

“Alright...” Shuuichi feels Ouma's hand on his arm once again.

“Hey, Saihara-chan, don't you think we should get going? Kiibaby is all wiped out, and I can't draw on his sleeping face with yellow ink!” Ouma tugs at his arm, leaning towards the door and twisting the knob.

Shuuichi lets Ouma pull him out into the hallway, noting that this is also how Ouma got him into the room. “O-Ouma-kun...” When he says his name, Ouma lets go of his forearm. It feels cold without his hand.

Ouma looks back at him, grinning, and starts for the stairs. “Are you excited to go home, Saihara-chan? For the break.” He swings his arms when he walks, almost skipping along.

Shuuichi shrugs. “I miss my uncle, but I don't really want to fly. Airports aren't a lot of fun.” He still hasn't decided if he's going to check a bag, but he probably won’t. Still, security and waiting...

“Aw, is Saihara-chan afraid of heights?” Ouma holds the door to the staircase open for him, mischief shining in his eyes.

“Ah, no. I just don't like all of the people in airports. It's...” He trails off, unsure of the right words. Ouma reaches back right as he starts up the stairs, and Shuuichi gladly gives him his hand. His right hand tingles with the cold metal of the railing; his left hums with Ouma's heat. It feels nice.

“It's just one day, Saihara-chan. You'll be with your uncle for a looooot longer.” Ouma pauses for just long enough that Shuuichi can't reply, but he can think about it. “Of course, that's if my secret organization isn't taking over that plane. We don't crash them, you know, just play annoying music over the loudspeakers. If you're on one of those planes, it'll seem a lot longer than normal!” Ouma giggles, stopping at the third floor stairwell and letting Shuuichi catch up with him.

“I doubt you do that....” Shuuichi can feel himself smiling. “It would be all over the news.”

Ouma giggles, bubbly and bright. “Aw, you saw right through me! But you know what I have done?”

“What?” Shuuichi walks beside Ouma, his hand still in his as they approach he and Momota's dorm room.

“Stolen things from airports, of course! I'm a master thief, Saihara-chan.” Ouma stops in front of the door, and Shuuichi has to let go of his hand to unlock it. Momota isn't home, judging by the lack of a greeting when he swings the door open.

“I can believe that you're a thief, Ouma-kun, but I don't know about master.” Shuuichi steps inside, kicking off his shoes. Ouma does the same, almost toppling over when he steps on his laces. He falls forward, and without thinking, Shuuichi catches him by the shoulders, their faces so close they're almost touching.

Ouma blinks, long, dark lashes like shadows on his milky white cheeks. “But haven't I stolen the most precious thing, Saihara-chan?” He straightens up, moving away but not back to where he was before, still closer. “Speaking of stolen, where's my stuff?”

Shuuichi swallows, hoping his face isn't actually turning red just from Ouma tripping into him. “Ah, it's in my ro--”

“O~kay!” Ouma grabs Shuuichi's hand again and drags him over to Shuuichi's door. Shuuichi has no idea how he can tell them apart, seeing as neither he nor Momota have decorated the outside of their room and both doors are closed, but Ouma opens the right room nonetheless. He pulls Shuuichi in behind him.

“Hey, Saihara-chan,” Ouma lets go of his hand but steps closer, close enough for Shuuichi to feel his body heat, to smell his shampoo. Ouma smells like sugar and flowers, like he always does. “Where’d you put my ink? If you don't tell me, who knows what I might steal while I'm looking for them.”

Shuuichi gets the sense that Ouma is talking about more than just the ink here, and also that it's a good time to be a detective. Maybe. “I'll tell you if you answer a question.” Shuuichi watches Ouma's eyes narrow as he takes another step forward. Shuuichi instinctively step back, even though he finds he really doesn't mind the proximity.

“Oh? What's that, Saihara-chan?” Ouma steps forward, and Shuuichi doesn't let himself move away this time.

“What is this 'most precious thing’ that you've stolen?” Shuuichi can feel Ouma's breath when he laughs, breathy and almost nervous.

Ouma leans forward and kisses him, soft and gentle. His hand, warmer than Shuuichi, as always, brushes his cheek, and Shuuichi lets his eyes slide shut. Ouma pulls away before Shuuichi can even really kiss him back.

“Your heart, my beloved Saihara-chan.” Ouma's hand is still on his cheek, and Shuuichi has at least some sense of remorse when he starts giggling against his will.

“Sorry--” He's laughing full out, now, and Ouma takes a step back. “It's just, that's so cheesy, Ouma-kun.” He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stop the laughter bubbling up still.

Ouma pouts, then grabs his wrist, pulling it away from his mouth. “I was trying to be sexy, Saihara-chan! Why are you so mean to me?”

“Sorry, Ou--” Shuuichi is cut off by Ouma kissing him again, with more energy than the first time. He kisses back as much as he can, letting Ouma move his hand down to his side and humming lightly when Ouma intertwines their fingers. Ouma responds with a flash of tongue along Shuuichi's lower lip.

Shuuichi puts a hand on Ouma's shoulder, mostly to balance himself, and parts his lips slightly, letting Ouma take the lead. Ouma bites gently at the edge of Shuuichi's lower lip as he steps forward, pushing, and Shuuichi falls backwards, the backs of his knees hitting something soft. He realizes that, at some point, they'd moved next to the bed, and that he's very okay with this fact. He tilts his head, opening up into the kiss, and Ouma giggles behind it as he half-climbs into Shuuichi's lap, one knee on the bed and the other leg still firmly planted on the ground. Shuuichi looks back at Ouma's face and sees his eyelids, pale and smooth. He shuts his own eyes.

Shuuichi feels Ouma pull away the slightest bit, and he opens his eyes again, feeling like he may be a couple steps behind in this whole kissing thing.

“Hey, Saihara-chan...” Ouma sounds out of breath in a good way. “It's this alright?”

Shuuichi nods. “Y-yeah. It's,” he tilts his head up, kisses Ouma once softly. “more than alright.”

Ouma giggles once, almost inaudible, then turns his head, pushing Shuuichi down into the bed. Shuuichi doesn't resist, staring up at Ouma as he hovers over him. The light behind his head makes his hair glow violet.

Ouma leans down, kissing right under Shuuichi's jaw, where it meets his neck. Shuuichi twitches, startled, then relaxes as Ouma presses a wet kiss to the side of his neck. This is pretty nice, he thinks, shivering as Ouma's teeth brush the soft skin. He can feel heat, liquid and pleasant, building in the bottom of his stomach as Ouma kisses a trail down from his jaw to his collar, stopping at the edge of his shirt.

“Hey, Saihara-chan?” Ouma kisses his neck.

“Y-yeah?” Shuuichi bites his lip to keep from making a noise as Ouma shifts his shirt downward and bites at the soft skin of his shoulder.

“You're not cute at all, like this.” Ouma pauses, and Shuuichi makes eye contact with him, bright violet staring back at him. He notes the flush on Ouma's cheeks.

“That's a lie, isn't it?” Shuuichi watches Ouma grin, then shuts his eyes when Ouma kisses him on the lips, fast and hard and almost desperate.

He pulls away just an inch. “Yeah.” Ouma runs his fingers along the side of Shuuichi's cheek, then his neck. “You got me, Saihara-chan.” He rests his forehead on Shuuichi’s, his breath warm and soft on Shuuichi’s face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Shuuichi feels heat rise to his face, and he averts his eyes. “Ouma-kun...”

Ouma kisses him on the tip of his nose, then moves away and flops down beside him, their arms touching. “You are. That’s not a lie, either.” Shuuichi feels Ouma lace their fingers together. “Hey, Saihara-chan?”

Shuuichi turns his head so that he can see Ouma, see the dark purple of his eyes staring back at him. “Yeah?”

Ouma scoots closer. “When’s your next class?” His thumb traces a circle on the back of Shuuichi’s hand.

“Uh, i-it’s...” Shuuichi trails off as Ouma brings Shuuichi’s hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of his wrist.

“It’s what, Saihara-chan?” Ouma’s voice is completely innocent as he nips the sensitive skin. Shuuichi shivers.

“In an hour. About.” Shuuichi watches Ouma sit back up, and he copies him. “W-why?”

Ouma grins. “I think you know, Saihara-chan.” He cups Shuuichi’s cheeks in his hands. “My next class isn’t for a while either.”

Shuuichi frowns. “Wait, but don’t you have--”

“Shh.” Ouma kisses him, then pulls away to talk more. “I don’t have it if I’m not going, right?”

Shuuichi blinks. “You can’t skip class for me, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma laughs. “Who said it was for you? Maybe I’m just using you for your body.” Ouma kisses him on the cheek, then his neck, barely touching him.

“I doubt that.” Shuuichi holds back a whimper when Ouma bites the side of his throat, where his pulse beats a steady rhythm against the skin. “You’re not that kind of--” He cuts himself off, biting his lip to keep quiet when Ouma flicks his tongue against the skin, warm and wet.

“Not that kind of what, Saihara-chan?” His voice hums against Shuuichi’s skin as he moves, shifting to sit fully in Shuuichi’s lap. “I’ll have you know that I'm a spectacularly awful person.” He kisses Shuuichi and, as if to prove his point, grinds his hips against Shuuichi.

Shuuichi can’t hold back the soft noise he makes, moaning quietly into Ouma’s mouth. He hadn’t realized how into this he was, but there’s heat building in his gut, and when Ouma bucks his hips forward again, Shuuichi matches the motion. He wraps one arm around Ouma’s neck, pulling him closer, and kisses him sloppily. Ouma laughs into it.

“I was gonna ask if you were enjoying this, but I guess you are.” Ouma giggles, and Shuuichi tugs him back down so he can kiss him again. Ouma won’t stop giggling, though, so Shuuichi shifts, kissing the corner of his jaw. He copies what Ouma had done to him just a few minutes ago, kissing his neck and gently biting, letting his tongue smooth over the spot. He moves his hand to Ouma’s waist, tugging his whole body closer as he kisses a new spot. Ouma wiggles his hips in Shuuichi’s lap, panting against Shuuichi’s shoulder.

“Ouma-kun,” Shuuichi pulls back just enough to speak. “You’re all flustered.” He is; Shuuichi can see the rosy flush all the way down Ouma’s neck and shoulders, pink and warm and light. Shuuichi uses his other hand to gently brush the soft skin of Ouma’s neck, red and damp from Shuuichi kissing it. Ouma grins into his shoulder.

“That’s a lie, duh. I’m faking.” Ouma wiggles, and Shuuichi’s not sure what he’s doing, why he’s moving. “But you’re pretty worked up yourself, huh?” Ouma’s hand cups Shuuichi’s crotch through his jeans, and oh, that’s what Ouma was doing.

“O-Ouma-kun, I-I...” Shuuichi trails off as Ouma starts to rub him through his jeans. He takes a deep breath, only for Ouma to pull back from where he’d been leaning his head on Shuuichi’s shoulder and kiss him. Ouma’s hand is insistent and warm on Shuuichi, and Shuuichi wriggles as he feels pleasure ripple through him.

“Should I take these off?” Ouma runs a finger down the zipper on Shuuichi’s jeans, and Shuuichi nods furiously. Ouma starts to unzip them, slowly, teasing--

“Hey, Shuuichi, I’m back!” The door to the dorm room opens and slams shut as Momota’s voice fills the space. Shuuichi freezes, and Ouma flies off of him, flipping into a normal sitting position faster than the blink of an eye. Shuuichi can still see his blush, though, and the bulge in his pants.

“H-hey, Momota-kun...” Shuuichi desperately hopes Momota won’t actually look into his room.

“Oh, there you...” Momota peeks his head in, then stops. “Oh. Hi, Ouma.”

Ouma waves back, cheery and shameless. “Hi, Momota-chan!” Momota is looking right at them, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Uh... you could leave a sock on the door, y’know?” Momota rubs the back of his head. “I’m gonna just... go.”

Shuuichi looks down at his lap. “Sorry, Momota-kun, I didn’t mean to--”

Momota laughs as he moves back into the main part of the dorm room. “No, it’s fine! I’m glad my bro is getting some.” Shuuichi can feel his ears turning red. “I’m just gonna leave so I don’t co*ckblock you anymore, okay?”

“Okay...” Shuuichi hears the door shut. Momota must not have even taken off his shoes. Shuuichi feels a wave of guilt wash over him, bitter and sharp. He’s in Momota’s way, and even though Momota said it was fine, it didn’t mean it actually was. He’s always doing this, always ruining everything for everyone else.

“Saihara-chan?” Ouma scoots closer to him.

“S-sorry.” Shuuichi looks down. Ouma probably wants to keep going now. It’s not his fault that Shuuichi didn’t consider Momota before they started... whatever that was. It’s not fair to Ouma that Shuuichi’s anxious now, too anxious to maintain his arousal. All he can think about is Momota, angry at him. Momota, grossed out. Momota, disappointed. It’s not the urgent, loud type of anxiety that turns into a panic attack, but the slow burning, smoldering kind that eats away at his happiness throughout the day, worrying him down into nothing. Shuuichi forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Don’t apologize.” Ouma grabs his hand. “Let’s just chill. The mood’s dead anyway.”

Shuuichi swallows. “I-If you want, we can--”

“No,” Ouma sighs. “It’s no fun if you don't actually want it too, Saihara-chan.” His gaze flicks to where Shuuichi is no longer hard, where his hand is shaking in Ouma’s. “I wanna watch dumb shows on your laptop and cuddle now, anyway, and it’s kinda hard to pay attention to Netflix when we’re doing it.” Ouma leans against him, the warmth and heat against his shoulder calming.

“A-ah, okay.” Shuuichi is relieved, so relieved. He’s glad that Ouma can see through him, because apparently he’s the one struggling to be honest right now. “I can go get my laptop. It’s in my desk...”

“Oh, is that where my ink is?” Ouma brightens up, his grin wide and goofy. “If you fall asleep, I’m gonna use it to draw dicks alllll over you!”

Shuuichi laughs. “Please don’t do that, Ouma-kun.”

--

11/19

--

Shuuichi yawns, trying to get his ears to pop as the plane whirrs around him. Early morning sunlight streams through the window, crossing over his neighbor and falling on his lap. The air seems to crackle and hum as they climb higher, clouds dancing past the window. Shuuichi takes out his phone, squinting at it against the glare.

He should plan for this week. Shuuichi opens to the app, clicking on his food log. Today is empty, free of food, clean, neat. Shuuichi clicks on dinner, because he can tell his uncle he got lunch on the way. His uncle is predictable, thankfully-- dinner is always rice, a vegetable, fish, and fruit. Shuuichi knows he can pick at the fish and rice, make it look like he's eating them too while he's only really eating the fruit and vegetables. No, dinner tonight won't be a problem.

Afterwards, though, when he and his uncle sit in the shadow of the living room, blankets pooled around their legs and the light of the television sending a playful glow on their faces, his uncle will turn to him, the corners of his lips turned up the tiniest bit, and ask Shuuichi if he wants a taiyaki. Shuuichi will stare back at his uncle, a bubble of anxiety and nerves building in his chest, threatening to shatter his ribs when it pops. Shuuichi doesn't know if he'll be able to say yes like he used to, sink his teeth into soft, sweet cake, let the vanilla ice cream and the sticky strawberry jam melt onto his tongue. He's not sure if he can lick sugar off of his fingers, swallow the last bite, and hand his uncle the wrapper to throw away as he curls into the couch and shuts his eyes, the air warm and soft around him.

Shuuichi now, the Shuuichi in the stiff backed chair of the plane, the Shuuichi who's hands quake at the thought of strawberry jam and vanilla swirled bites, types “strawberry ice cream taiyaki” into his app. It's 213 calories on the first option, and the results range from 170 to 300. Shuuichi closes out of the app and takes a deep breath. He can do without it for a year. He'll just tell his uncle that he's watching his figure, trying to drop a few pounds, getting in shape. It'll be okay. He doesn't miss the sugar sweet of ice cream, the fruity taste of jam, sinking his teeth into a mouthful of food that's food, not guilt. Shuuichi is okay with this. It's all okay.

The flight attendant announces that they are free to move about the cabin. Shuuichi stands up, shaky legs and cold hands, stumbling to the back of the plane. The bathroom door clicks behind him, and it's louder than any noise he makes when he cries.

He's struck, not for the first time, with the overwhelming sense of regret. It's his own fault that he's crying in the cramped airplane bathroom, his fault that his tears are sticky on his cheeks and salty on his lips, his fault that his stomach burns like white fire in his body, empty and hungry and angry. If he would just stop, he could be normal. He could drink punch at Halloween parties and eat candy with his friends. He could roast s'mores and eat sausage with his friends without feeling like he's dying. He could enjoy a Thanksgiving meal with his friends and keep it down.

But Shuuichi can't stop, not now. He's so close. He could lose just five, ten more pounds and he'd be beautiful, everything Ouma saw in him and everything he wanted to be. If he keeps going, just a little bit more, he can stop. Nobody judges a skinny person for eating; nobody judges a sick person for being shy. If he loses ten more pounds and stops, he'll be loved, cared for, quiet and small and safe. He won't be anxious. He'll be beautiful.

Shuuichi just needs to lose ten more pounds, and then it will all be worth it.

Chapter 13: 11/24-12/3

Chapter Text

11/24

--

Shuuichi steps out of the airport, glancing around for Momota's horrible purple car. His suitcase feels heavy in his hands, even though it's not any more full than when he left. Shuuichi spots a flash of bright purple and steps forward, as close to the road as he can get without being in the way, and he waves once he can see the windshield of Momota's car, waiting patiently for his friend to reach him. Momota pulls over to the curb and hops out, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Shuuichi! How was your flight?” Momota reaches for his bag. “Here, I'll put this in the back.”

“It was alright.” Shuuichi lets Momota take the bag out of his hands. “I wish I lived closer to campus, though.”

Momota laughs. “Yeah, me too. I was basically dead when Harumaki picked me up yesterday.”

“She has a car?” Shuuichi opens the passenger door and steps inside. It’s as clean as always and warm, especially compared to the outside.

Momota laughs. “Oh, no, she drove the Kaito-mobile!” He shuts the door and starts the car, the heater kicking on. Shuuichi blinks away the puff of warm air in his eyes.

“She did?” Shuuichi reaches forward and tilts the heat vent downward so that it blows onto his lap and not his face as Momota drives through the pick up area. “I thought she hated it.”

“She does.” Momota laughs, his voice as warm as the flow of the heater. “But she likes me enough!” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “So, how was Thanksgiving at the Saihara household?”

Shuuichi shrugs, looking down at his jeans. “It was alright. We didn't do much.” He'd told his uncle that he wasn't hungry, wasn't sick, wasn't hurt. Just tired and stressed and cold. He'd sat on the couch under three blankets where he'd used to only need one, shivered in the dark and watched his uncle stare at him instead of the television. He'd gulped down enough fruit and vegetables and rice to get his uncle to stop looking so worried, then said he was too cold for taiyaki. It was true, anyway. Even now, under the warm breath of the car and the two jackets he has on, he's shivering. Shuuichi doesn't mind, though. It's better than being sweaty and hot.

“You've lost weight.” It's not a question when Momota says it, and while Shuuichi knows it's true, it still surprises him, a little jolt of energy in his chest.

“You can tell?” Shuuichi immediately thinks that was the wrong thing to say, and the way Momota's eyes dart over to him before looking back at the road confirms it.

“Yeah, I can.” Momota pauses, takes a deep breath. “You... you're doing this on purpose. That's why you went to the clinic, with Amami.”

Shuuichi nods, his voice heavy and small in his throat. “I should have told you.”

“No, it's fine.” Momota sighs. “That kind of stuff is hard, I get it. But you've got to stop doing this, Shuuichi. You can't keep letting your anxiety beat you up like this.”

Shuuichi looks at him, blinks. “My anxiety?”

“Yeah, well, they're not unrelated, right?” Momota's fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and Shuuichi stares at them instead of his face. “You told me you got medicine for the panic attacks, but you're anxious more than just when you're having one of them. I mean,” he clears his throat. “Isn't your anxiety why you don't eat?”

“It's...” Shuuichi squeezes his hands into fists, his fingertips colder than his palms, pain bright and cold where his nails bite into the skin. “It's why I started.”

Momota doesn't say anything for a few moments, the only sounds the car rolling over them ground beneath them and the steady whir of the heating system. If Shuuichi focuses, he thinks he can hear his heartbeat against the xylophone of his ribcage, a different sour note for every breath.

“I wish I knew how to help you.” Momota sounds sad, lost, like he's fifty feet underwater and swimming through fog. “I don't. But,” he clears his throat, his voice gaining strength. “You're not a burden, okay? I don't want you to think that. You're like a brother to me. You're my sidekick. So, it's your job to tell me when something's wrong, and it's my job to help with it.”

Shuuichi stares at him. “T-thanks, Momota-kun.” He doesn't know if he believes him, if he's even processed what he said. How did Momota know what to say? What he's worried about? Shuuichi repeats it in his head, over and over again like a prayer. Not a burden, like a brother, not a burden.

“Kaito.” His voice is firm now, stronger and bright again. “I've been calling you Shuuichi for a while, right? You can call me by my first name.”

“Thanks, Kaito.” Shuuichi's voice is a little shaky, but he feels okay. He's okay with this. Momo-- Kaito cares about him. He's not a burden. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he won't believe this forever, that the little trickle of doubt will rush and flow into a storm, but right now, Shuuichi is okay.

“No problem, Shuuichi.” Momota pauses, merging on to the highway. Shuuichi sees a few drops of rain spatter on the windshield. The conversation in the car lulls as the rain picks up, a drumroll of soft sounds and gentle colors, grey and blue and eggshell white skies where the sun tries to push through the clouds. Shuuichi watches water pool on the road, on the dips and cracks in the asphalt. His heartbeat is calm and even in his chest, and he knows he's just riding on the energy from the conversation moments ago, but he doesn't care. He's happy right now, right?

So, Shuuichi pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens a google search. He doesn't let himself think about what he's doing or what it means, but he types 'how to get better from an eating disorder’ into the search bar. Even if he's not a burden, his habits, his eating, his anxiety is. Shuuichi's just looking it up because it's something he should know, in case he has to pretend for his friends. That's all it is. He's not actually going to get better.

The results don't surprise him; eat more, talk to people, get professional help. Shuuichi would rather not do any of those things, actually. But one webpage leads him to a PDF of a chart, a meal plan, neatly listed meals for different “stages” of recovery. Words Shuuichi doesn't know in this context-- refeeding, exchanges, supplements-- lash out at him, the brightness of his phone screen suddenly digging into his eyes. He puts his phone away, hiding the light and the words and the recovery in his pocket.

Shuuichi can't stop thinking about it, though. About kids in hospitals being forced to follow that meal plan, about rules and drugs and treatments and weight gain. He pulls his phone back out of his pocket, then closes it again. He looks at Kaito, who's humming something and staring at the road. Shuuichi takes a deep breath. He's not going to get better, but he has to stop losing at some point, right? After those ten pounds (more like eight now), he can stop losing weight, but that also means he has to stop losing weight. So it's not unreasonable for him to look at recovery. He'll just... not gain weight. He'll follow all of the other guidelines, get better in every other way, but maintain his current weight (his progress, his body, his cold hands and shaky knees).

Ten pounds isn't that far away. Shuuichi opens his phone and starts to read.

--

11/26

--

Shuuichi is stupid. He's so so stupid, the lowest of the low, impulsive and dumb and worthless.

He stares at his face in the mirror, at his fingers twisted into navy blue hair, at the wide golden eyes. It's hard to recognize his own features, even with his familiar colors, his hair and his eyes and his skin, because Shuuichi is melting, gooey and thick layer of extra skin around his chin, a pad of cotton fluff under the skin of his thighs, a layer of mush on his hips. He looks back at the glint of his eyes and snap, he's thin again, so small that he could disappear into the foggy air of the bathroom, that he could hide in the mist still lingering on the mirror from his shower earlier. He looks at his hip bone where it cuts out of his skin and it's coated in a layer of bubbly fat, yellow stuffing visible through the skin, bone buried deep underneath. Shuuichi's breath is loud and ragged in the quiet of the bathroom, painful against his ears.

He looks fine until he really looks, looks at the little things. When he twists to the side, he's like a piece of paper-- but his stomach folds and droops, his ribs are barely visible, his arms spreading in wings of gluttony against his sides. His legs are smooth as a whole, but the flare outward close to his hips, wide and and obtrusive and dimpled with celulite. Hot tears start down the sides of his face, and Shuuichi watches his face grow red in the mirror. Even his eyes are ugly when he's crying.

Shuuichi doesn't look 92 pounds. He doesn't look 100 pounds, or 110. He looks 140 pounds, 150. Average at best, but chubby, the kind of person who nobody would call fat (because Shuuichi's not so deluded as to think he's obese) but that everyone secretly thinks it wouldn't hurt if they lost twenty pounds. Shuuichi doesn't know why he thinks he can stop; he should keep going, keep shrinking, keep starving. He wants to be nothing, to be 0.00 on the scale and dead silent in a room, a mist and a ghost and weightless even in everyone's hearts. He wants to be smoke above a campfire, ephemeral and dangerous, there one moment and gone the next. Shuuichi wants to not matter and to never have mattered. He wishes he hadn't existed in the first place, because then he wouldn't weigh anything and he wouldn't bother anyone and he wouldn't feel like such a worthless piece of garbage. No normal person thinks like this, stares in the mirror and watches themself cry naked because they deserve to look at their own fat face while they sob and shake. No sane person can't tell what they actually look like in a mirror because it keeps changing. No person worth anything would do this to their friends and family.

Shuuichi doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to do this, to feel this way, to crouch down on the bathroom floor and bury his head in his hands because he can’t bear to look at himself, to hear his own sobs echo back at him. It hurts, it aches and throbs and burns in his heart, but know knows he can’t stop, can’t give up on it. Because as much as Shuuichi hates this, hates the way his brain twists and lights up with anxiety and guilt, hates the pain in his stomach and his head, hates the looks that Kaito and Amami and Kiibo and Ouma give him, hates the nightmares and the daydreams, the way he can’t even recognize himself anymore, there’s just one thing stopping him.

Shuuichi doesn’t want to stop.

--

11/30

--

The air around them is still and quiet as they walk along the sidewalk, the sky an inky blue. Shuuichi can see the silver of the moon peeking out from black tree branches, a spattering of stars between the last remaining leaves. Bright halos surround Christmas lights, strung up in the branches and wrap around the trash cans, white and gold and silver, green and red and blue. Shuuichi lets Ouma swing his arm between them as they walk, the warmth of Ouma's hand comforting against the icy bite of the wind.

“This is nice.” Shuuichi inches closer to Ouma as they walk slowly down the sidewalk. “It was a really good idea, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma looks up at him, the rainbow of lights reflected in his eyes. For all of the colors and flashes, the patterns and shapes, Ouma's eyes and hair are the only purple things in the park. They glitter like rare gemstones, rich and lustrous. Shuuichi can't stop staring at the violet glint of his eyes.

Ouma waves a hand in front of his face. “Oi, Saihara-chan! I asked you a question!”

Shuuichi blinks and looks at the path ahead, the cobblestone turned multicolored in the light. “S-sorry. What did you ask?”

“I asked if you wanna come back! Like,” Ouma waves a hand around. “closer to Christmas.”

Shuuichi nods before he can even actually process the request, but it's fine because he's enjoying this. The glow the lights and the tapping of their shoes against the sidewalk, Ouma's hand around his and the heat coming off of his body-- it's all perfect, safe and comforting and nice. If it wasn't so cold, Shuuichi could stay out here forever, probably. As soon as he thinks that, of course, a breeze brushes past them, and Shuuichi shivers from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He bites down to keep his teeth from chattering, but Ouma must notice because his grip on Shuuichi tightens.

“Cold?” Ouma looks at him, head tilted to the side.

“N-no, I'm fine.” Shuuichi doesn't look him in the eye, instead staring at the reflection of a glowing wire snowman in the cobblestone.

“Y’know,” He leans into Shuuichi, and even though Shuuichi is trying his best to stop, the quivering and shaking in his torso must be noticeable. Ouma grins at him and raises his eyebrows. “I can tell when you're lying, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi blinks and bites his lip. “Sorry. W-we can stay out though. I-I don't mind.” His jaw threatens to chatter his teeth as he talks, and there is now way Ouma misses it.

“Well, I do!” Ouma swings their hands between them. “I'm tired, Saihara-chan! Let's go home!”

Even though Shuuichi knows the act is entirely for his benefit, he still smiles and chuckles lightly. “Sure, Ouma-kun.” He lets Ouma guide them in turning around, retracing their steps back towards the entrance of the park. The scenery looks different from the other side, and even though they'd just passed all of this moments before, Shuuichi still finds himself walking slowly to watch the lights around him. He notices, out of the corner of his eyes, that Ouma's pale skin is dyed multicolored and bright in the lights. With his eyes and hair shining and his skin and coat dappled with color, he looks like a mosaic, a rainbow in the dark. Shuuichi thinks he's gorgeous, and he wonders what Ouma would do if he said that out loud. Act like he doesn't care, most likely.

“Hey, Saihara-chan.” Ouma's voice is quiet, and Shuuichi stops pretending not to be looking at him. His face is impassive, blank, which for Ouma means a lot more than a frown.

“Is something wrong?” Shuuichi squeezes his hand gently, pressing closer once again. Ouma reacts to his touch, almost sinking into him as they walk.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” It seems strange, just like Ouma's light tone of voice, but Shuuichi isn't so oblivious to realize that this is somehow linked to something important to Ouma.

“I-I was thinking I'd go and spend time with my uncle...” Shuuichi swallows, not sure if this is the right thing to ask. “What about you?”

Ouma doesn't say anything right away. He breathes out slowly and softly beside Shuuichi, then squeezes his hand. “Y’know, Saihara-chan, I don't see my parents either.” Shuuichi tilts his head slightly waiting for Ouma to continue. “Kiiboy and his professor are the closest thing I've got to parents! Can you imagine,” Ouma grins, “having Kiibaby as a brother?”

“So...” Shuuichi wades through his words, trying to pick out what the conversation is actually about. “You're going to be with them over Christmas?”

Ouma makes a huffing noise, then sniffles, his face dropping into a pout. “Saihara-chan, are you making fun of me...?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Ah, no! I'm just a bit confused.”

Ouma makes another noise, this one more akin to a whimper. “Weren't you listening? I don't have any family and I'm gonna spend Christmas alone!” Tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes, and Ouma wipes one away dramatically. “You're so horrible, making fun of me for--”

“Ouma-kun.” Shuuichi cuts him off and he immediately drops the act, face returning to its blank state, tears still gathered in his eyes, drying on his cheeks. “Do you want to spend Christmas with me?” He says it before he's even thought about it, influenced by the reflection of the Christmas lights in the drops of tears on Ouma's face. He's glad he didn't think it through and change his own mind because Ouma blinks and looks slightly to the side, and Shuuichi knows that he wasn't expecting to actually get what he wanted out of this conversation.

“Yeah.” And then Shuuichi's the one who's surprised, because he didn't expect honesty, not from Ouma and not in this situation. “That’d be nice, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi stops walking and pulls Ouma into a hug. Ouma tenses up underneath his arms, but he reaches up a hand and grabs ahold of Shuuichi's jacket, his fingers tightening in the fabric as he leans into Shuuichi's body. Slowly, Ouma relaxes, leaning his head against Shuuichi's shoulder and taking a deep breath.

“Wow, Saihara-chan. You're feeling really needy right now, huh? Good thing I'm such a good boyfriend.” He doesn't move.

Shuuichi pulls him closer, soaking in his warmth and pretending that Ouma isn't crying, because Ouma wouldn't want Shuuichi to say anything. “You're the best boyfriend, Ouma-kun. And I'd love to have you with me for Christmas.” He smiles as Ouma laughs, breathy and laugh into his shoulder, then pulls away, bright smile on his face.

“Yay!” Ouma turns so that they're side by side again and starts walking for the exit of the trail again. “Saihara-chan loves me!”

Shuuichi feels his face grow warm, and he hopes that Ouma can't see it in the light coming off of the decorated trees beside them. “A-are we going back to our rooms now?”

Ouma tilts his head and laughs. “What? Saihara-chan, you're coming back to my room with me, duh! It's like you don't know how dates work at all.”

Shuuichi is definitely red in the face now, and Ouma has to know because he's staring at Shuuichi, a lopsided grin on his face and white teeth showing. “O-Ouma-kun--”

“Wow, don't get ahead of yourself!” Ouma snickers as they start up the steps out of the park. “I just said that you're coming back to my room, not that we're going to do anything dirty there. Saihara-chan is such a perv!” Ouma's voice is loud, and Shuuichi glances around to make sure that nobody is listening in on them. Thankfully, they're the only ones on the steps.

“You’re teasing me, Ouma-kun.” Shuuichi stops at the top of the stairs, gives Ouma what he hopes is a dirty look. Ouma just tilts his head back and cackles, his grin stretching the corners of his eyes.

“When am I not?” Ouma starts walking again, pulling Shuuichi behind him. “C’mon, I'm cold!”

--

“Do you want anything to drink, Saihara-chan? Any snacks?” Ouma shuffles around the fridge, his voice light and musical as he pulls out a purple soda from the fridge, the exact same shade as his eyes.

“Ah, no thank you.” Shuuichi hovers awkwardly behind him, hunger rolling in his stomach and anxiety swirling in his chest. Ouma might push, and he's not really in the mood for that. He doesn’t want to ruin tonight with food, with his problems and his insecurities. Ouma doesn’t need that, not right now.

Ouma shrugs, shutting the fridge and throwing something at Shuuichi. Shuuichi fumbles with it, but he catches the cold and slippery bottle, staring down at it.

“You should at least stay hydrated, Saihara-chan. It’s water.” Ouma pushes past him, walking into his bedroom and leaving the door open. Something in the way he move,s the tone of his voice tells Shuuichi that something’s wrong, even though Ouma’s still smiling easily, calmly. Shuuichi follows him into the room.

He’s not sure what he was expecting, to be honest. One wall of Ouma’s dorn room is completely covered with three large whiteboards. The topmost one appears to be covered in notes from various classes, linking them together. Closest to the floor is a whiteboard that Shuuichi suspects is a schedule for DICE meetings, a calendar with very little information other than stars on some days and x’s through the ones that have already passed. The middle whiteboard is written in what appears to be some kind of cipher, some elaborate code that Ouma clearly understands. There’s a blank square in the center of it, like Ouma had something taped there and took it down after writing.

Ouma’s bed is, surprisingly, made up neatly with checkboard pattern covers. The room is a lot cleaner than Shuuichi had expected, and the only thing that stands out to him as particularly odd is the horse head mask on the desk, the pile of empty soda bottles in a corner that does not contain the trash can, and the.... is that...?

“Ouma-kun, why do you have a cardboard cutout of Amami-kun?” Shuuichi steps closer to look at it as Ouma hops onto the bed, sitting on the side of it and opening his soda.

“Because I always want my big brother by my side, duh.” Ouma takes a long swig of his soda. “Hey, Saihara-chan, come here.”

Shuuichi turns back towards him and walks over obediently. Ouma pats the bed beside him, and Shuuichi sits down, watching Ouma curiously.

Ouma leans against his shoulder and sighs, long and slow. His smile doesn’t quite disappear, but it certainly fades. “Saihara-chan, you know that was a promise earlier, right?”

“What?” Shuuichi feels his brow furrowing. “You mean about Christmas?”

Ouma laughs, but there’s not a lot of humor in it. “You’d think that was obvious. Yeah, Saihara-chan. You’ve promised, so now you’ve got to spend Christmas with me.”

Shuuichi feels like he’s missing the point, like it’s smoke slipping through his fingertips. “I’m not going to go back on my word...”

“Good.” Ouma leans into him more, his hair brushing the side of Shuuichi’s neck. “That includes dying. You’re forbidden from dying. If you even try, I’m going to send DICE after you and they’re gonna tie you up and torture you.”

Shuuichi laughs lightly. “I don’t think you’d actually do that...”

“Well,” Ouma sighs. “I would if it kept my beloved Saihara-chan from death.”

Shuuichi just looks down at him, at his soft purple hair and his sad smile, sad eyes. “You think I’m going to die?”

Ouma looks up, face blank. “Do you?”

“I...” Shuuichi doesn’t know. He isn’t dying because he’s not that skinny and not that sick, but... “I’m sorry.”

Ouma moves suddenly, flipping on top of Shuuichi and grabbing his arms, his face twisted down in a frown. “Sorry for what?” Shuuichi can’t tell if he’s about to start yelling or crying, or if it would be fake or not when he did.

“I’m worrying you.” Shuuichi can feel Ouma relax the slightest bit, his grip loosening around Shuuichi’s biceps. “I don’t want to hurt you, any of you, but...”

Ouma takes a deep breath, his face smoothing out into the same expression he wears when he’s trying to hide his feelings: a smile, but not a grin, just wide enough to be real but not so extravagant to seem faked. Shuuichi’s used to it by now, accustomed to Ouma’s faces and tricks and lies. He wonders if Ouma can see through him, tell from the speed and cadence of the way his hands shake and the angle that he looks down at the floor from what brand of anxiety is coursing through him, what kind of fear is burning his veins.

“Y’know, I’m not the one you’re hurting the most, Saihara-chan.” Ouma’s still kind of on top of him, but he moves back to where he was before, sitting beside Shuuichi.

“I know. You and Kaito and Harukawa-san and Akamatsu-san and Amami-kun and... everyone. I’m hurting so many people but...” Shuuichi swallows, looks down, thinks that Ouma can probably see guilt in the way his shoulders sag and his eyes lock onto the floor. “I can’t stop. I wish that you all didn’t care, because then I wouldn’t be hurting anyone with this.”

“That’s wrong, Saiahra-chan.” Ouma wraps his arms around his bicep, pulling him closer. The next thing he says comes out as a whisper, a ghost, the halo of a flame. “You wanna know who you’re hurting the most? You’re hurting yourself. You’re cutting away my precious Saihara-chan piece by piece, and eventually, there’s not going to be any of you left.”

--

12/1

--

Shuuichi stares down at his legs, at the curve of his knee bone and the smooth, pale skin. He traces a finger down from the top of his knee to the end of his ankle, pressing slightly. It gives, soft and mushy near his foot, and Shuuichi forces himself to take a deep breath. There's no way he's gained weight; that's impossible. It has to be swelling of some kind, water under his skin like the ocean in his head, waves loud and distracting even in the quiet of the bathroom. Shuuichi squeezes his ankle, wrapping his fingers around it. It all fits between his index finger and thumb, but only barely. Definitely thicker than last time.

Shuuichi stands up, wobbling slightly as he pulls his shirt up and over his head, keeping his back to the mirror as he strips. His scale is already out, clean and neat in the floor of the bathroom. Shuuichi cleaned yesterday, so he could sit on the floor if he needed to after this. Often, when he weighs himself, nothing can calm him down other than sitting on the cold tile floor and listening to his own ragged breathing until his medicine kicks in. Shuuichi wonders if one day, Kaito will walk in and see Shuuichi, dead on the floor, and he'll be proclaimed a drowning victim. The air is heavy like water as Shuuichi steps on to the scale.

90.4. Shuuichi presses his fingertips to the chilled skin on the sides of his face, like he'll be able to feel the weight loss just from that touch. He had suspected the worst when he'd woken up, tired from the night before in the park, and seen that his wrists and ankles were puffy, soft. This, though... Shuuichi can deal with this. It's been a long time since he's lost so much between two mornings, so he's almost vibrating as he puts the scale away, a smile threatening to slip on to his face. Deep in his mind, he's shaking with anxiety and not excitement or cold, worried and sad and confused. Is this such a good thing? He's so close to 85 pounds, ten from where he said ten more. He's almost there. What is he going to do when he has to stop?

Shuuichi steps back into his pants, pulls his shiry over his head. He's still cold, but now he's decent enough to step out into the dorm room. Kaito isn't here (probably at breakfast, but it's not so unusual for Shuuichi to skip that nowadays) and it's quiet, empty. Shuuichi lies down on the floor and scrolls through his phone, typing in swelling in ankles and hitting enter.

Shuuichi reads through the pages, hands shaky and cold and scared, all of him, scared. He's probably fine if he thinks about it logically-- what are the odds that he'd have the worst possible cause of this-- but his mind still races and shouts when he reads heart failure. He's not that sick, though. He isn't.

Shuuichi sits up, digs his fingers into the soft skin around his newly swollen ankles, nails cutting into the flesh. He's not dying because he doesn't really want to die and even if he wishes he could stop living he doesn't want to leave anyone behind. He's overreacting, he thinks as he feels tears building in the corners of his eyes. He's fine, he tells himself as he cries, soft and quiet even though there's nobody there to hear him.

He's not dying, just dehydrated. He'll drink some more water at lunchtime while he tells himself it's just easier to skip eating entirely and pretend he believes it'll make it all better. It has to, because he can't die, can't break. Water wells up around his eyes, his throat and his mouth and chest, choking him. Shuuichi leans his head on his knees and breathes it in, painful and salty in his lungs. Shuuichi is driftwood on a vicious sea, his thoughts and his anxieties biting away at the soft wood until there's nothing left but a skeleton of a tree, beautiful only in its melancholy. He's not dying, and he's not going to die because if he dies he had a problem all along and he wasn't just doing what he had to do to survive.

Shuuichi stands up, walks into the kitchen area with stiff limbs. He pours himself a glass of water, drinks it. He's fine. It's cool and sweet going down his throat, refreshing and light. A breath of air. Shuuichi sets the glass down, remembering when Ouma threw him the bottle of water the night before. How much does Ouma know? Does he know about the way Shuuichi's lungs fill up when he tries to eat, how his heart burns and smokes when he thinks about his body, when he thinks about his weight?

Ouma knows that something is wrong, that it's getting worse. That it's progressive, cutting away his Saihara-chan. Shuuichi doesn't think he knows the details, the feeling of slipping away into fog when he doesn't eat, smoke and embers and sparks in the sea of Shuuichi Saihara, the ever-present coals in his belly. When Shuuichi went to college, he accidentally swallowed a smooth marble of anxiety, a black stone filled with fire and ice, with pain and hunger and fear. It's using his body as tinder.

Shuuichi doesn't want to die, doesn't want to burn and crisp in the fire, doesn't want to sink and drown into the bottom of a black sea, but he doesn't want to get better either. Shuuichi just wants to stay, frozen in place and an inferno inside, fighting with himself for eternity.

--

12/3

--

“Hey, Momota-chan, this math problem is fake! There's no way they make them this hard!” Ouma's lying on the floor of Shuuichi and Kaito's dorm room his legs stretched out and his math notes on a clipboard in front of him. His voice is high and whiny, loud in Shuuichi's ears.

“It's not fake, you just aren't doing it right.” Kaito sighs, standing up from his spot on the couch and crouching down next to Ouma. “Let me see.”

“No!” Ouma rolls over onto his back, holding the clipboard to his chest. “You'll make fun of me, because you're a big bully!” Ouma's grinning, but his voice is high and squeaky, like right before he she's crocodile tears. Shuuichi looks away from them and continues copying down his mostly illegible scrawl into his neater notebook. He doesn't really get this kind of math either, but at the very least, he can copy it down so that Kaito can actually read it when he helps him later.

“I'm not! Just give me the paper and let me see it, Ouma!” Kaito grabs the clipboard, and Shuuichi watches in his peripheral vision as Ouma wriggles his arms and legs, making Kaito lose his balance and fall on top of him.

“Wow, now you're attacking me?” Ouma squirms, trying to free his hands from under Kaito. “I could have gotten hurt, Momota-chan!” His eyes are filled with tears, and Shuuichi gives up on doing his notes, at least until Ouma stops tormenting Kaito.

Kaito lifts himself off of Ouma, sitting back and rubbing his shoulder where it hit the floor. “You're the one who knocked me over, jeez!” He sighs. “I can just not help you...”

Ouma shakes his head, tear drops whipping off of his face and glittering in the fluorescent lights. “No!! Momota-chan, I'll fail the test!” His voice is still thick with tears, high and childish, but Shuuichi doubts he's lying. Kaito is probably the only person who could reasonably pass any of their math exams without studying. Except for Iruma, maybe.

“Only if you quit acting like a brat!” Kaito reaches forward, yanking the clipboard out of Ouma's hands. “Let's see what you're so upset about...”

Ouma leans forward, no longer crying, instead watching Kaito's face as his brow furrows and he frowns. Shuuichi finds himself watching too, wondering what could be making Kaito make that face.

“Ouma, you're almost there. Look, you just didn't rationalize the denominator of the derivative.” Kaito holds the clipboard out in front of Ouma, pointing at something. “I don't think you'll actually fail this test.”

Ouma blinks, his face splitting into a grin. “Really? It's all thanks to Momota-chan's tutoring! Now I owe you a life debt, and I have to follow you around everywhere in case I get an opportunity to save your life!” Ouma sets a hand on Kaito's shoulder. “I'm so happy that we'll be spending our lives--”

“Actually,” Kaito pushes Ouma back. “I take that back. You're definitely going to fail.” He turns, looks up from where he's sitting in the floor and sending Shuuichi a pitiful look. “Shuuichi, save me. Please.”

Shuuichi chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You volunteered to help us...”

“I know, but he's--” Kaito waves a hand in Ouma's direction, and Ouma nods happily. “He's like this!”

Shuuichi just smiles. “You told me you were used to it, Kaito.”

Kaito rolls his eyes. “You're on his side now! This is a betrayal.” He flops onto his side, sprawling out on the floor. “You have to help him now. I'm done.” He droops a hand over his forehead, like he's playing dead. Shuuichi chuckles again.

“Kaito?” Ouma's looking at Shuuichi, narrowing his eyes. “Since when is Momota-chan 'Kaito’?”

Shuuichi blinks. “Since I got back from Thanksgiving break? I mean, he's been calling me Shuuichi forever, so...”

“No fair!” Ouma pouts. “You still call me by my last name!”

“Well, yeah.” Kaito speaks up from his spot on the floor. “You call him by his last name too.”

Ouma doesn't seem to have anything to say to that, instead just staring at Shuuichi for a moment before turning back to his notes, flipping the pencil around his fingers. Shuuichi watches him for longer than is probably necessary, realizing that he hasn't actually seen Ouma do math in his purple pens. It makes sense, but it's still somehow surprising to Shuuichi.

“Hey, Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi looks down at his own notes, not waiting for a reply or acknowledgement. “Do you want me to call you by your first name?”

“No,” Ouma's voice is unreadable, and Shuuichi still isn't looking at his face. “I don't want that at all, Saihara-chan.”

Shuuichi frowns. “That's a lie, right?”

Kaito makes a huffing noise from the floor. “You two are so awkward. Hey, Shuuichi, Ouma, we're all friends, right? Let's just all use first names. It's easier that way.”

“You just called me 'Ouma’,” Ouma points out. Shuuichi looks at him, sees an uninterested look on his face. “It's whatever. I don't care at all what Saihara-chan calls me.”

“Alright, well...” Shuuichi swallows, watching Ouma scribble on his page. “It's okay if I call you Kokichi-kun?”

Despite his apparent disinterest, Kokichi's face lights up with the smallest hint of a blush, barely noticeable. His expression doesn't change at all, and he keeps writing on the clipboard. “I said I didn't care, Shuuichi-chan.” His face is more red now, but definitely not as red as Shuuichi's must be.

“Okay,” Kaito claps his hands. “It’s settled! We need to get back to math now, Shuuichi, Kokichi.”

Ouma suddenly brightens up. “Hey! Me and Shuuichi-chan rhyme!”

--

Chapter 14: 12/5 - 12/10

Chapter Text

12/5

--

Shuuichi scuffs his feet against the sidewalk as he walks, his and Amami's shoes dark against the pale concrete. The sun is just starting to set behind the clouds, and it's cold enough that Shuuichi's breath puffs out in his face when he breathes, a cloud between his eyes and his feet. Amami is quiet at his side as they turn a corner.

Shuuichi looks at him, curious. They normally talk when they go back to the dorms after history, but Amami is pensive, silent. His brow is furrowed the slightest bit, and he has one hand on his chin.

“Is everything alright, Amami-kun?” Shuuichi keeps his voice low so that nobody else on the sidewalk will hear him. Amami looks to him, frowning.

“Well...” He sighs. “I'm worried about you, actually.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Me?” He thought that, since he'd been to the clinic, Amami hadn't been worried about him. He'd thought he'd been doing a good job hiding the fact that he was still losing weight, still not eating.

“You haven't actually gone through with any treatment, have you, Saihara-kun?” Amami sighs, folding his arms over his chest and looking away. “I don't want to push and make you anxious, but it's obvious.”

Shuuichi knows what that means, knows that he looks slimmer and smaller and sicker, and he knows that that thought shouldn't give him a little burst of happiness, but it does. “I've been taking my medicine when I need to...” Most of the time, anyway. He tries not to take it if he's not going to classes soon, if he's just alone in the dorm room. If he's not bothering anyone, there's not really a good reason to take it.

Amami glances over at him, gaze sharp. “That means you haven't done any of the other stuff. I'm worried that you don't want to get better, Saihara-kun.”

The freezes Shuuichi in place, chills his hands and toes and makes him shiver. Amami's eyes widen just the tiniest bit, in worry, in alarm, but Shuuichi makes himself keep walking, keep breathing. He can talk about maybe being sick. He can talk about maybe getting better. Taking isn't doing; it shouldn't frost him over, make him shake and cower. It shouldn't be making his heart beat desperate against his chest, even, but fast and rough.

“Saihara-kun?” Amami slows, looking him in the eye, voice soft and concerned. “Are you--”

“I'm fine.” Shuuichi takes a deep breath. “Let's keep walking.” He puts some speed into his steps, and Amami scrambles to keep up, his brow still furrowed, face still dark. Shuuichi tells himself it doesn't make him feel guilty.

Amami takes a deep breath, then stops, like he wants to say something but doesn't want to have Shuuichi hear it. Shuuichi gives himself a moment, focusing on the pressure of his feet hitting the sidewalk, one after another after another.

“It's not...” He swallows. “It's not that I don't want to get better.”

Amami bites his lip, doesn't speak, lets Shuuichi continue. Shuuichi sort of wishes he'd interrupt.

“But... I don't want to be in a hospital. I'm not sure if I could do it on my own, and...” Shuuichi looks down, clenches his fists. He doesn't want to do this on anybody else's terms and to be honest, he doesn't even want to do it himself, but he's got to stop losing weight eventually, right? He's worked so hard to get to this weight, so he's earned the right to maintain it, hasn't he? Shuuichi still doesn't think that he looks small, looks sick and skinny and under 90 pounds, but he is under 90 pounds and underweight and sick, cold and frail and weak. It's what he wants and what he's worked for, but if he keeps going he'll die and lose it all.

“Saihara-kun...” Amami sighs. “You wouldn't be on your own. Momota-kun, Akamatsu-san, Ouma-kun, Kiibo-kun and I would be here for you. Actually, the whole study group will support you. You're not alone.”

Shuuichi can't look at Amami's face, so he looks at his shoes. “I don't know if I can get better. Even if I want to.” He still doesn't want to, to be honest. The idea of it, the concept swirls around his head like blood in the sea, his anxiety a starved shark. Shuuichi can't let himself think about it much, or he'll be eaten alive.

Amami puts a hand on his shoulder, warm and soft and gentle through Amami's glove and Shuuichi's jacket. “Saihara-kun, I know it's hard, but... If you wait, you might not have a choice.”

Shuuichi stops, because they're at the dorm building and Amami's pausing just outside, looking at him with so much worry and concern that it makes Shuuichi's heartache.

“If you get much worse,” Amami says, solemn and quiet, “you'll be dead or close to it. You can't recover on your own terms if you have to be in a hospital to survive. You'll be alone if you're dead.”

And when he says that, when he looks at Shuuichi with one hand on his shoulder and his voice shaking the slightest bit, something shifts in Shuuichi, moves a few inches to the side and crashes into his sternum, rough and loud in his mind, like a window shattering and letting winter blow inside. Shuuichi doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't breathe. He knew this, knew as surely as he knew that his head hurts and his hands shake, but he didn't know it was real, that someone else knew it. It's one of those things that he knows but doesn't think, doesn't acknowledge, locked away in his head and far from sight. If Shuuichi dies, he'll be alone. Even if he makes everyone around him sad and hurt and angry, he doesn't really want to leave them, to lose them. Shuuichi wants to slip away so that neither he nor those he loves would care when he died, but it isn't working, isn't taking. It feels like the more Shuuichi tries to dissolve himself into smog, the more he glows and shines in the dark.

Shuuichi is smoke, is fire and sparks. He takes a breath and feeds the coals as Amami says something else, something fast, worried, low. Shuuichi wraps his arms around the furnace in his chest, surprised that his torso feels cold. It doesn't feel like he's having a panic attack, like he's dying or he's scared. Shuuichi is just nothing, the air his body breathes, the heat coming off of his cheeks, not the flesh and bone itself. Amami's voice is the crinkling of ashes and coals, inaudible and unclear. Shuuichi's body sighs and moves, obedient as Amami guides it to a bench. It sits down, and Shuuichi is the air around it, thin and cold and foggy with his own ragged breaths.

“Saihara-kun.” Amami's voice is like a recording from a telephone, tinny and muffled and distorted. He says something else, and Shuuichi has to force himself to focus to listen.

“Saihara-kun, please, say something.” Shuuichi realizes that Amami's panicking, his own eyes wide and his breathing uneven, sharp. “You're safe, okay? Okay?” He doesn't seem to know what to do or say, and as Shuuichi forces himself to slow his own breathing and look at Amami, he can see fear bright and iridescent in his eyes.

“I-I'm okay, Amami-k-kun.” Shuuichi takes another breath, twitches his fingers, feeling strange and heavy and like his body isn't fitting him quite right.

“Do you need to take your medicine?” Amami still looks frantic, but less so. “Should we go to the health center?”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “No, I'm alright, really.” He isn't alright, but he isn't not alright. He's numb. “I didn't have a panic attack. I was just...”

“Out of it?” Amami cracks a shaky smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you were. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah. Let's go to our rooms. I'll... I'll think about what you said.” Shuuichi stands up, surprised at how shaky his legs are.

“Will you? Actually?” Amami walks beside him. “Because I don't want you to die.”

“I don't want that either.” Shuuichi opens the door of the dorm rooms, warm air blowing in his face.

--

12/7

--

The menu is heavy and rough in Shuuichi's hands, the fabric coated back bumpy under his fingertips. He pretends he's reading the neat cursive text, not watching Kokichi over the top of the pages. His eyes move side to as he reads, his lip captured just barely under his teeth, his expression open. Shuuichi feels like he could stare at him forever, never look at anything but his eyes and be happy. It's mesmerizing, watching them move, bright and colorful even in the dim light of the restaurant.

“Do you know what you’re getting, Shuuichi-chan?” Kokichi’s voice is light and even, his eyes still glued to the page.

“Uh,” Shuuichi isn’t ordering anything, actually. “I think I’ve decided.”

“I’m stuck between the alfredo and a burger. What do you think?” He sets his menu down, and surface reflecting the light above them. Shuuichi lowers his own menu, then realized that he’s supposed to be helping him decide. He glances at the food, acting like he’s reading the description and not just thinking about how he couldn’t eat a plate of pasta even if he tried.

“The burger, maybe?” If he ordered one of those two, he’d ask for the burger with no cheese, extra tomato. He’d take off the bun and pick at the vegetables, cutting the meat into tiny pieces but not eating a single one. The grease from the patty would coat his mouth if he tried, and his lips would dissolve.

“I’m going to get the salmon. That was a lie.” Kokichi’s eyes glitter in tandem with his teeth, shining in his smile. “What are you getting, Shuuichi-chan?”

Hearing his first name has the same effect on him that it always does, and he takes a deep breath to calm the beating of his heart (both from the anxiety and from Shuuichi-chan) before he speaks. “I’m not very hungry.” He doesn’t think he could lie here, not when Kokichi will actually be here to watch him eat, watch him betray his word when he tells the waiter he’ll have nothing. If he could somehow pretend, he would do it, but the way he is right now? He’d order a plate for the deception, and he’d end up eating the whole thing. Saying he isn’t hungry is a lie, he supposes, feeling his stomach gnaw at his insides, desperate. It’s true in the sense that he’d rather not eat, though.

Kokichi tilts his head. “You’re not hungry?”

“I’m not hungry.” Now it’s definitely a lie because Shuuichi’s thought it through and he knows it’s not true. It’s fine because Kokichi probably saw through him the first time.

“Y’know, I don’t really like...” he pauses, and Shuuichi fills the blank in with lies in his head. “If you don’t know what to get, you should order the soup. I wanted that too, so if you order it I can taste it without having to order two meals.” Kokichi grins, his hands behind his head, smile easy and false. “Please? For me?”

“I--” Shuuichi stops. He doesn’t want to eat, but he doesn’t want to ruin their date and he has been thinking about eating more, right? He can do this, just once, can’t he? Shuuichi glances at the menu. “I’ll think about it.” There’s actually three soups, which makes it apparent that Kokichi wasn’t considering it at all, but Shuuichi had already guess as much. Minestrone, lentil, potato, words and script and promises of anxiety on cream colored paper swirl in his head. Shuuichi decides that the lentil soup sounds the least likely to have cream or fat added to it, even if lentils have lots of carbs. He’s considering the minestrone, but it has pasta. Lentils have fiber, so there’s some merit. He’ll be fine.

Kokichi hums, then picks up his own menu. “You don’t need to order soup, though, if something else would be easier. I don’t know anything about what’s going on with you, but I want you to get something, Shuuichi-chan.” He thumbs the corner of the menu, and Shuuichi realizes that that’s definitely at least partially a lie because Kokichi has to know some of what the problem is because he knows it’s related to food.

“Kokichi-kun, you know what... what’s going on, don’t you?” Shuuichi asks, eye still glued to his pale thumb against the dark fabric backing. He isn’t nervous because he doesn’t let himself be, filling his mind with Kokichi’s hand, Kokichi’s eyes in the light. He is feeling romantic, not anxious. That’s what he wants and that’s what’s happening.

Kokichi looks at him, his smile still in place and his eyes shining in a way that makes Shuuichi wonder if Kokichi had been waiting for this. “Do I?”

“Kokichi-kun...” Shuuichi swallows, mouth dry and stiff, his tongue awkward in his mouth. “You know something. Otherwise, you wouldn't have known that there's an issue related to food.” Like a detective, presenting him with facts. Shuuichi's proving his own guilt, but he has to know what Kokichi knows. He has to.

“Hmm.” Kokichi's grin drops and he leans back slightly in his chair, a look of ease, nonchalance. Shuuichi wonders if that means he's actually nervous about this too. “I know you have an eating disorder, Shuuichi-chan.”

Shuuichi knew he was going to say that. He knew, and it still hits him like a punch to the gut. His breath is knocked out of him, quick and painful, and he's sitting there, blinking, adrenaline rushing in his veins. He's spiraling away before he knows it, hot and cold and out of breath.

“Shuuichi-chan.” Kokichi reaches forward, sets his hand on Shuuichi's. “It’s okay. You're okay.”

Shuuichi shakes his head, the restaurant blurring around him. He's not freaking out, not upset. This is fine. His heart isn't a drumroll between his lungs, his ribs a vise around his insides. He's not struggling to keep from crying, not biting his lip and staring at where Kokichi's hand is over his.

“Shuuichi-chan. Can you take a deep breath for me?” Kokichi smooths his thumb over the back of Shuuichi's hand, and when Shuuichi takes a breath in, shaky and too fast and uneven, the movement of Kokichi's thumb is grounding.

“S-sorry, Kokichi-kun, I--”

Kokichi shakes his head. “Nope. Don't apologize, just breathe.” He gives his hand a squeeze, and Shuuichi just nods, his head too heavy on his shoulders as his takes in a breath, then another. In and out. Kokichi's thumb, circles on his skin. The room comes back into focus right as the waiter returns to their table, notepad in hand.

“Are you two ready to order?” He seems oblivious to the tension in the air, to the way Shuuichi's trembling.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi says, not letting Kokichi tell the waiter no. “I'll have the lemon lentil soup.” Kokichi stares at him.

“For you?” The waiter nods at Kokichi, pen in hand.

“The chicken florentine.” Kokichi grins up at the guy as he scribbles it down.

“Awesome, I'll have that right out for you guys.”.” He walks off, shoving the notepad into his coat, and Shuuichi stares off to the side. He doesn’t look back at Kokichi, doesn’t let himself.

“Shuuichi-chan.” Kokichi doesn’t sound upset, disappointed, happy, angry. He doesn’t sound like anything. “I don’t care at all if you have an eating disorder. I don’t mind.”

“That’s a lie, isn’t it?” Shuuichi sighs, looks at the table in front of him. “I know I’m hurting you. You’ve said as much before.”

“I don’t mind,” Kokichi says, voice low and even, “as long as you don’t die.”

Shuuichi’s gaze snaps up to him, and he can feel his brows furrowing. “What?”

“I don’t want you to die.” Kokichi is blank-faced except for the tiniest hint of a frown. “And you know that’s not a lie.”

“I don’t want to die either.” Shuuichi can hear the frustration in his own voice, creeping up even though he’s not entirely sure that’s true. He doesn’t want to die as he is now, with people who would cry over his death and be hurt by it. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone else any more than he already has. But when he thinks about it, when he lets himself entertain the idea and trusts his own feelings, he’d rather not have to deal with this any more. The stress, the pain, the cold nights and hungry mornings-- Shuuichi wants it to end. He doesn’t want to kill himself, not yet, but as Kokichi stares him down with an even violet stare, he realizes that if this keeps going he might change his mind. After all, there’s the chance that his prolonged survival would hurt others around him more than his immediate death would, that the total losses of Shuuichi’s suicide would be smaller than the total losses of his natural death. Either way, Shuuichi’s going to die, now or later, old or young. If he’s going to suffer and make others suffer the whole way, then what’s the point in living any longer?

“I hope not.” Kokichi drums his fingers against the table, sucking Shuuichi out of his head. “Didn’t you promise Kiiboy you wouldn’t die?”

“How do you know about that?” Shuuichi can feel confusion wash over him.

“I was eavesdropping, duh. I went behind a tree and--”

“No, you didn’t.” Shuuichi waves his hand, frustrated. “You were asleep in the cabin when we went inside to get you, and there was only one door. We were in front of it the whole time.”

Kokichi giggles. “You got me, Shuuichi-chan! Kiiboy told me about it. Told me how nice you were to him, too. How come you can’t be nice like that to yourself?”

Shuuichi doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything about it. “I’ve been doing better lately, actually.” Empty words, empty like Shuuichi’s chest. His heartbeat echoes in him.

“Really?” Kokichi’s grin drops, and he’s back to that same blank stare. “Seems to me like you’ve been doing worse.”

“How would you know?” Shuuichi picks at the edge of the napkin in front of him, pulling a maroon thread out of the fabric. He’s not sure if he’s angry, frustrated, or just responding this way because it feels like he’s supposed to get upset. Everything always feels like Shuuichi’s experiencing it through a layer of fog, smoke, mist, like his body and his actions don’t belong to him.

“The same way I know you’re lying,” he leans across the table, eyes almost black in the light, hair shadowing his face. “Because it’s obvious.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. You--”

“Shuuichi-chan, stop.” Kokichi folds his arms over his chest, takes a deep breath. “I just don’t want you to die. Why are you arguing with me?”

Shuuichi blinks, anger fading. He’s right, of course. There’s no good reason for this conversation if Shuuichi is as fine as he claims to be, as fine as he wants to be. He doesn’t even know why he’s arguing, why he bothers.

“I don’t know.” Shuuichi tries to move his hands under the table, but Kokichi reaches forward and grabs one of them, gentle enough that Shuuichi could pull away. He lets Kokichi pull the fist he hadn’t realized he was making open, lets him intertwine their fingers.

“You know I hate lies.” Kokichi’s hand is warmer than his. “Lying to yourself counts too, you know?”

“I’m not lying to myself.” Shuuichi isn’t. “I’m fine.” He is.

“Hmm.” Kokichi glances to the side. “Looks like our food is here. Since you’re fine, are you going to eat it?”

“Yeah.” Shuuichi nods. “I’m fine.” His mouth is sour and dry as the waiter sets his food down in front of him. It comes with bread, apparently, and Shuuichi is lost in the steam coming off of the soup when the waiter talks. He misses every word in a wisp of fog, a lick of heat rising out of the bowl. Bread and soup, bread and soup, bread and soup and fog. Shuuichi wishes he had told Kokichi he didn’t want to go out for dinner. They could have watched a movie instead. Shuuichi thinks that he’s probably been staring at his soup for far longer than is strictly necessary, but he isn’t going to move right now, not with his head matching the steam and swirling into it, opaque and spinning, uneven. If Shuuichi focuses, he’s anxious, but if he doesn’t, he’s fine. He can just not think about it.

Kokichi turns his hand over, fingers gentle on Shuuichi’s palm. “Shuuichi-chan?”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry.” He forces his vision to focus, to realign. His heart is unsettled, unhappy, but he picks up the spoon. Across from him, Kokichi smiles.

“Shuuichi-chan, I’m right-handed, so...” He pulls his hand away, wiggles his fingers.

Shuuichi nods. “Okay.” He dips the spoon into the soup before Kokichi can say anything, but he waits until Kokichi cuts into his chicken, spears the piece with his fork, puts it in his mouth, chews, and swallows before he tastes the soup.

It's good, but everything is good when you're starving. Shuuichi swallows the bite as quickly as he can, the sips his water, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. If he's hungry, if he wants to eat, he'll eat too much and gain weight. He has to take it slow. Kokichi takes another bite. Shuuichi stirs his soup and sucks his water through the straw.

“So, how's class?” Kokichi asks voice muffled slightly by the food in his mouth.

“You're in most of them.” Shuuichi gives his spoon a half-hearted twist, bringing lentils to the surface of the broth, then watches as they fall back down. “But they've been good. I feel like I'm learning.”

“Really? I don't think I've learned anything all year. I had to figure all of this stuff out in order to run my secret organization, so it's all baby stuff to me now.” Kokichi waves his fork in the air, lips turned up in a smirk and his eyes glittering. Shuuichi knows it's a lie because he's there when Kaito tutors Kokichi in math, he saw when Kokichi asked Gokuhara to help him with chemistry, but he plays along, lets himself entertain a world where Kokichi is all powerful.

“Really?” Shuuichi puts the spoon in his mouth, tastes lemon and herbs. He swallows while Kokichi stabs another piece of chicken.

“Yup! I actually control the university, you know. It's easy to get good grades when the professors are all your minions.” Kokichi giggles, twirls pasta around his fork.

“That's a lie, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi stirs his soup, takes another bite, swallows, pretends he can't feel it creeping down his throat.

“Yeah, well,” Kokichi says, grinning. “You knew that from the beginning, right?” He stuffs a forkful of pasta in his mouth, his jaw working as he chews. Shuuichi realizes he’s about halfway through the bowl of soup and puts his fork down.

“You weren’t actually trying to trick me. You would have used a less obvious lie if you had been.”

“Hmm,” The other boy sets down his fork, leans forward just a bit. Shuuichi realizes he’s in the exact same position as he is now. “Doesn’t that mean you weren’t actually trying to trick me when you said you were fine?”

Shuuichi opens his mouth, but Kokichi cuts him off. “Ah, Shuuichi-chan, don’t just say the same thing again and expect it to mean more. Think about it, okay? You don’t have to tell me anything, but think about it.”

Shuuichi stares at him for a moment, at the shadows of his hair on his face, at his faint smile. He takes a deep breath, nods slowly, then looks down at his soup. “Do I, uh. Do I have to finish this?”

Kokichi frowns, then looks at Shuuichi’s bowl. “I would prefer you did, but no, you don’t have to.”

“Okay.” Shuuichi sighs. “I just want to go to bed.” His head is a mess of fog and stress, he can’t focus. He was just happy, just fine listening to Kokichi talk, but the moment it ends he’s filled with smoke again. The soup sits heavy in his stomach, like cement mixing in his guts. Everything is grey and blurred, dark and cloudy. Shuuichi is tired. He’s so, so tired. He can’t even be happy on a date, with his boyfriend, with good food. Everything he likes, everything he enjoys, is stained, watered down. He just wants to sleep, to stop eating and stop breathing until the sun rises again, until the fire burns out and the smoke is all gone. Shuuichi wants the clarity of an early morning, the bright chill of ice on his lips. He wants to feel alive, to be happy, but here in the restaurant, dim lights and herbs in the air, he just feels dead. Dead on his feet, dead in his head. Maybe Kokichi’s right, and he’s not okay. Maybe he hasn’t been okay for a long time.

Kokichi must have been staring at him for a long time, because Shuuichi gets through his whole train of thought before he speaks. “We can go back to the dorm rooms, but I don’t want to be alone.”

Shuuichi frowns. “Why not?”

Kokichi shrugs, his face looking uneasy. “Well, Shuuichi-chan, I get really lonely, so...” He trails off, and Shuuichi gets the vague notion that he’s lying, but he’s not sure why or what he actually means. His head is still on their conversation, on if he’s fine or not. Is he? Is this fine? Does he want to stay like this forever, in limbo and in fog, smoke and fire and twists and turns? Is Shuuichi content to live hungry, live empty?

“That’s fine. Why don’t we go back to my room together, after we pay?” Shuuichi smiles at Kokichi, like he doesn’t know that Kokichi would be just fine alone, like his head isn’t a jumbled mess.

“Sure, Shuuichi-chan! Only if Kaito-chan doesn’t get in our way again!” Kokichi’s bright smile is back, stretching from ear to ear, and Shuuichi blinks and his change in expression.

“A-are we going to...?” Shuuichi is confused, but Kokichi is implying...

Kokichi cackles. “Wow, Shuiichi-chan! I don’t even have to say the word ‘sex’ to get you embarrassed!” He looks Shuuichi in the eye, his smile shifting to something less devious and more genuine. “But no, I don’t really want to do that. Not tonight.”

“Okay.” Shuuichi makes himself smile, makes himself look at Kokichi in the eyes, makes himself think of anything but if he’s okay or not. He can worry about that later, anytime but now. He just needs a break from his thoughts, just for now.

--

12/10

--

Shuuichi drifts, mind wandering in an aimless mess as he watches Hoshi place microscope slides back into their case. Each piece of thin glass glints in the fluorescent lighting, and from where Shuuichi’s sitting, they look like slivers of silver. He watches them disappear into the case, shining and bright, trails behind them in a chorus of movement. It sticks to the inside of Shuuichi’s brain, like nails into soft sand, sinking in. He blinks, trying to clear the sunspots from his eyes. It’s not that bright in here, but his vision is still clouded, foggy.

“Saihara, can you rinse out the test tubes?” Hoshi points at them as he shuts the case from the slides. Shuuichi nods, the room tilting slightly with the movement.

“Yeah, I’ll--” As Shuuichi talks he stands up, and as he stands up, black tendrils creep over the edges of his sight, reaching for him, threatening to cloud him over entirely. Shuuichi can feel himself falling to the floor, can feel the tile beneath his hands, but the only thing he’s really aware of is spinning, swirls and twirls and upside inside out. He is the smoke, the fire and the coals, the stars in the sky above, a mystery in blackness like ink. The floor is the ocean beneath him, singing cold and icy under his palms, under his cheek. The wind rushes around him, the crackling of flame and the howling of the storm, Shuuichi is the ocean, the fire, the moon. He feels blackness and nothingness, underwater, and he sinks. The water is cold and dark and heavy, and Shuuichi is just a tiny spark in the vast sea.

Shuuichi hears a voice, concerned and loud and panicky. He blinks, and he’s lying on the floor of the biology room, Hoshi hovering over him.

“Saihara, are you awake?” Hoshi’s face is contorted with concern, and he’s backlit by the ceiling lights. Shuuichi feels like he’s swaying, but he’s lying down so it’s probably not the case.

He sits up, even though the world is a smear of color around him. “Sorry. I’m okay.” He has to seem alright, has to seem okay. The biology lab spins like a merry go round turned too fast, and Shuuichi’s the only one riding it.

“Gonta doesn’t think you should sit up so fast...” Oh. Gokuhara is here too, off to the side. Shuuichi’s vision clears just enough for it to be obvious what happened; he stood up, got a head rush, and fell over. From the looks on Hoshi and Gokuhara’s faces, they both saw it happen.

“I’m okay, really.” He starts to stand up, to prove it, but Hoshi clamps a hand down on his shoulder.

“No, you’re not. I’m going to call the health center. You were out for about a minute, and you’re clearly not okay.” He eyes rake over Shuuichi’s body, and Shuuichi resists the urge to try and hide himself. Hoshi isn’t thinking he’s fat, he’s probably just worried.

“Don’t call the health center.” Shuuichi doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to hear what he already knows (edema in his extremities, slow heartbeat, low body temperature, malnutrition, low body weight), doesn’t want a hospital room, doesn’t want to lose what he has.

“You just passed out kid, I can’t just--”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just low blood sugar.” Shuuichi ignores Hoshi’s frustrated glare. “Can one of you get me a juice from the vending machine?”

Hoshi stares at him, surprise evident on his face. Shuuichi thinks he must have suspected that it was an eating issue because he seems blown away by the prospect that Shuuichi would ask for that. Shuuichi just stares back at him, willing him not to argue, to just go along with it. Shuuichi’s already dreading the sugar and the calories in the juice, but he knows he has to do this if he’s going to get back to his dorm without going to the hospital first. Hoshi doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from Shuuichi.

“Gonta can go get it? He has money...” Gokuhara looks fairly confused by the stare down between Hoshi and Shuuichi, but when Shuuichi nods, he relaxes.

“Thank you, Gokuhara-kun.” Shuuichi looks back at Hoshi before he talks again. “I’ll be okay once I drink that.” He thinks. He’s read about it online, but he doesn’t actually know if it works, much like the rest of the things he’s seen about getting better. If they don’t work, what’s the point? Shuuichi stares at the floor beneath Hoshi’s feet as Gokuhara scampers off to get the juice.

“Low blood sugar, huh?” Hoshi sounds skeptical.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi says, voice as even as he can get it. “That’s why I...”

“Fainted?” Hoshi snorts. “I feel like that has more to do with the overall state of your body, but whatever. If you’re still unsteady after you drink it, I’m getting Gonta to carry you and we’re going to the health center.”

Shuuichi sighs. Hoshi sounds like Amami doe when he talks about his health. He doesn’t like it. Shuuichi doesn’t like this situation at all, actually. He thought he was far from needing to be forced into something, but... what if he’d been out for another few minutes? What if he’d been taken to a hospital before he could wake up and reassure everyone?

“That’s fine,” he says, even though it isn’t really. “I’ll be okay.” Shuuichi thinks he might mean it.

Chapter 15: 12/11 - 12/16

Chapter Text

12/11

--

Shuuichi slowly opens his eyes, blinking in the darkness of his bedroom. His bed feels cold around him, layers of chilled cloth wrapped around his body. The chill in the air has seeped into him, all the way down to his bones, to his heart. He shifts, reaching for his side table, and picks up his phone. 8:23 a.m., which means he should probably get up and get ready for english. He groans, trying to roll over, but... he can’t. His arms feel both heavy and too light, his body a wraith of itself, nothing but shadow and light. He can’t do more than scoot himself closer to the edge of the bed, wigle his legs a bit. Everything is too weak and shaky, foggy and disconnected. Weirdly enough, Shuuichi doesn’t panic, doesn’t feel fear fill his mind. He just acknowledges the fact that he can’t get out of bed, calm and even in his mind, then lets himself slip back into sleep.

--

Shuuichi cracks open one eye, noise in the background slowly filtering into his consciousness. His room is just as dark and just as cold as when he woke up earlier, but his mind is more muddled, more confused, ink poured into water and slowly spreading. He doesn’t try to move, doesn’t bother. He knows it won’t work, and this time, it scares him, sets his mind alight and glowing, hot and fast and terrified. He can’t get out of bed. The realization isn’t shocking, isn’t painful, but the implications that come with it cut Shuuichi like a knife. Is he dying? Is this it? Will he just slowly fade away, buried in icy sheets in the grey blue of an unlit bedroom?

Shuuichi shifts his arm, moves the hand still holding his phone closer to his face, turns it on. He knows Kaito is just in the other room-- he can hear him, rustling about, singing to himself. It’s about 9:30 now, so he’s probably getting ready for his first class, probably thinks Shuuichi is sitting in English right now, just like any other day. Shuuichi wonders if he’ll be surprised when his phone rings, and he dials him. The sound of the phone vibrating in the other room mocks Shuuichi, reminds him of how pathetic this is. He hears some thumping in the next room before the phone picks up.

“Shuuichi? What's up, bro?” Kaito sounds confused, not concerned. Shuuichi briefly considers pretending that he called Kaito by accident, but pushes to urge away. He can’t even get out of bed.

“Um, Kaito-kun?” His voice is weaker, shakier than he expected it to be. It feels like it isn’t his own. “I, uh. I can’t get up.”

Silence on the other end of the line, one beat, two beats, three. “Where are you?” Kaito’s voice is breathier, higher pitched. “What happened?”

“I’m in my room.” Shuuichi tries to talk more, starts to explain, but the door slams open and Kaito bursts inside. His face is red, mouth drawn into a line, brows furrowed. He immediately hurries over to Shuuichi’s side, hands up but fluttering about, unsure.

“What’s wrong?” Kaito touched his arm, his hand a fiery brand on Shuuichi’s arm. “Jesus, you’re freezing.”

“I just woke up and I couldn’t get out of bed.” Shuuichi looks away from Kaito, at the fuzzy grey shadow of the wall. He feels so stupid, so ridiculous. It feels like this can’t be real, like he has to just be being dramatic, but he’s still so weak, so fragile feeling. Like if he tried to stand on his on two feet he’d crumble and fall, bone into sand into dust.

“sh*t, okay.” Kaito presses one hand to his chin, the other one a fist by his side. “I'm gonna, uh. I'm gonna check your pulse.”

Shuuichi blinks, doesn't protest as Kaito carefully takes the arm that Shuuichi is holding the phone in, gently presses two fingers to the inside of his wrist. It's silent in the room save for their breathing, and Shuuichi thinks that Kaito could probably just hear his heartbeat if he leaned in a bit.

“Crap.” Kaito drops Shuuichi's arm, biting his lip. “I think you need to go to the hospital. Like, now.” His hands are shaking, Shuuichi notes. Shuuichi doesn't know if his are too because they're cold, so cold he can't feel them over the rush of heated fear that pulses through his veins.

“No,” Shuuichi shakes his head, the room whipping around him. “I'm not going to the hospital.” He tries to dig his nails into his palm, but his hand is so weak that he barely creates pressure. He clenches his jaw instead, the tension at the back of his mouth not quite the same. It doesn't work well enough, doesn't stem the bright, blinding terror coursing through him. Shuuichi forces himself to keep breathing, to keep some semblance of calm, but it's not working very well, his breaths desperate puffs through his nose.

“Shuuichi, you're--” Kaito takes a quick, sharp breath. “I don't think you have a choice. You're gonna die if--”

“No.” Shuuichi shakes his head again, revels in the blur of the room. “I'm not going to go to the hospital or the health center. Don't take me there.”

“Shuuichi--”

“No!” Shuuichi can hear his voice rising, but it sounds like it's coming from elsewhere, from someone else. This isn't something he'd say, not the way he'd say it. “If I get admitted into the hospital, I'll kill myself.”

As soon as he says it, Kaito recoils like he's been punched. He steps back, mouth slightly open, then closes his hands into fists. He stands there, frozen in place, while Shuuichi sifts through his thoughts. Did he mean that? His head is fuzzy and cloudy, sparks in a cotton sea, but he thinks it's true, that he'd rather die than live in a hospital, sick and tired and weak. He'd rather die than lose himself, lose his control, lose his freedom. When Kaito turns and walks out of the room, Shuuichi doesn't say anything, doesn't stop him, doesn't comment on the choked sob that bursts out of Kaito before he shuts the door, leaving Shuuichi alone in the dark.

He still can't get up, but he manages to sit up, kind of. His back rests against his pillow awkwardly, and he buries his face in his hands and pretends he can't hear Kaito crying in the other room. The skin of his hands feel cool and sticky against his face as tears start to build up in his eyes, spilling out onto his skin. Shuuichi is rain in winter, and Kaito is the little kid caught in the storm. Shuuichi is cold, cruel. He'd sooner die than let his friend save him, and even though he hates himself for it, he can't change his own mind. If he was put in the hospital, walls around him like bars of a cage, an icy fortress of you're sick and you're dying and you're a burden, Shuuichi couldn't live. He couldn't cope, couldn't handle it, couldn't survive. If Shuuichi were to lose himself like that, dissolve into the fog of death and sleep and frost, there would be no point in living any more. Shuuichi wants-- wanted-- to become less and less, but now he's not sure he wants to be nothing. Because, if he's in his own bed and he can't move and he can't think and he can't breathe, isn't that the same as being in a hospital bed, only that he's chained down by himself instead of doctors, laws. Shuuichi doesn't think he can keep living if this is what's left for him. He would rather break apart, burn and simmer into smoke, a memory, sunspots on his friends’ eyelids, nothing left but ashes and coals. Even though Shuuichi has been wanting to die down into nothing, into obscurity and mist, he still wants people to miss him, to care about him. He's been lying to himself this whole time, convincing himself that he wants to be forgotten, to be able to die slowly, quietly. But really? Shuuichi thinks he just wanted someone to care enough to stop him.

As if Kaito was waiting for a break in his thoughts, he pushes open the door, a bowl in his hand, in his shaky hand. He steps inside, hesitates, then speaks.

“Shuuichi, I... I don't want you to die. If you killed yourself, I...” Kaito sucks in a deep breath. “Look, I couldn't live without you, bro. You're like... you're more than my friend or sidekick.” His voice is choked up, heavy with tears, waterlogged. “Please, Shuuichi. Don't... don't hurt yourself.”

Shuuichi can't look at him, can't say anything. He stares down at the blurred shadow of the bed on the floor, at the grey and the black and the smoky blending, dark and fuzzy. His heart beats in his chest, slow and lazy but too strong, hard and painful against his ribs.

“Sorry. I got you some fruit from the fridge.” Kaito steps forward, pressing a bowl into his hands. “Can you eat it? Please? I don't know if it'll help but... I can't just leave and do nothing.”

“It's okay.” Shuuichi clears his throat. “I'm sorry, Kaito.” He's not sure if he's apologizing for something he's going to do, or something he's already done.

Kaito shakes his head, then sits down on the floor. Shuuichi can see him lean against the bed, his back against the mattress. When he shifts, Shuuichi can feel it. He pretends not to see Kaito lean forward, head between his knees as Shuuichi carefully takes a grape out of the bowl, puts it in his mouth. It feels foreign, sour like the lies he's been spouting all year. Shuuichi almost chokes as he swallows it, forcing his mind off of the fact that he's eating and onto the fact that he really doesn't want to keep living this way, and there's only two ways to stop. Shuuichi rolls another grape around on his tongue as he thinks, not piercing the skin. He can hear Kaito's breathing, purposefully slow and even, forced calm in the air and frustration, sadness lurking beneath. Shuuichi tries to breathe with him, more for Kaito's sake than his own. The one good thing about all of this is that he's feeling too ill to really be anxious.

Shuuichi swallows the grape whole, grimacing as it slides down his throat. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows it isn't this; it isn't sitting in a bed, unable to stand, his best friend sobbing because he might die. No, this isn't what Shuuichi wanted when he stopped eating, isn't his perfect picture of quiet calm disappearance, nor is it a righteous, graceful punishment for all he's done wrong. It's messy, it's painful, and it sucks the life out of Shuuichi, draining his veins and filling up the empty space with ice water.

Shuuichi wants out.

--

12/12

--

“It's been a while since we've hung out, hasn't it, Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu smiles, swinging her legs where they hang off the side of the chair. They're at the library, tucked into a small table hidden among tall shelves of books. Shuuichi likes this place, likes the quiet that creeps between the pages, the soft silence that permeates the space. He feels calm here, at least normally. He wipes his palms on his jeans, hoping Akamatsu doesn't notice.

“Y-Yeah.” He swallows. “Sorry I haven't really been social lately.”

Akamatsu shakes her head. “No, it's fine!!” She smiles. “We should just do this more often, is all. I get worried if I don't see you enough.” Akamatsu’s laugh is light, but Shuuichi can hear a hint of uneasiness in it. His chest throbs with guilt, and he finds himself remembering yesterday morning, remembering Kaito bringing him food, helping him into the shower, staying and watching him until he was steady again. Shuuichi takes a deep breath.

“We can do this more often. Hanging out, I mean.” He wonders if that counts as a promise, and his mouth is suddenly a little dry.

“Good!” Akamatsu beams at him. “So, what did you want to talk to me about? Is something going on with Ouma-kun?” She leans towards him, still bright and happy, voice even but just concerned enough that Shuuichi can tell she cares. He wishes she would give lessons on being so socially apt.

“Uh, well.” Shuuichi swallows, asking himself again why he decided to tell her this. He couldn't tell Amami, or Kaito or Kokichi because they'd pressure him too much (accidentally, but still), and telling Kiibo was as good as telling Kokichi. And he doesn't know anyone else as well except for Harukawa, who was busy today.

“I think that I'm going to try and stop losing weight.” The words feel like stones in his mouth, cold and unfriendly. He watches Akamatsu’s eyes widen the slightest bit and wishes he hadn’t said anything to her at all.

“Saihara-kun, that’s... I’m glad.” She reaches her arm across the table, her hand warm on his. “I’ve been really worried about you. We all have.”

“I know,” It slips out before Shuuichi has a chance to try and filter his speech. “Don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want to get their hopes up in case...”

Her brow furrows. “In case what?” Her hand tightens on his. “Saihara-kun, you shouldn’t think about failing before you’ve started. You’re just prepping yourself to give up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” even though it is what he was thinking, “What if... what if it’s too late?” He looks down at the table, at Akamatsu’s hand on his. He hadn’t noticed before, but he’s significantly paler than she is. Has it always been that way?

“Saihara-kun, it’s never too late to get better.”

He shakes his head. “No, what if it is too late? What if I’m going to die, either way?” Shuuichi bites his lip, pretends that his heart isn’t beating faster in his chest. “Akamatsu-san, I couldn’t get out of bed yesterday. What if I’ve gone too far to come back?”

Akamatsu blinks at him, then takes a deep breath, face twisting into a determined frown. “Saihara-kun, that’s bullsh*t and you know it. You’re going to survive this as long as you want to. You’re strong enough to stay alive. I believe in you.”

Shuuichi can only stare back at her, eyes wide. He’s not sure if that’s how this works (he could be too damaged to survive, right? That’s not impossible) but there’s something alluring about Akamatsu’s optimism, bright and unfaltering. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I just... still, don’t tell them. I want to tell them myself, when I’m ready.” He pulls his hands, back, away from Akamatsu, wipes them on his jeans again. He’s okay. He’s fine. He’s breathing, actually breathing. Shuuichi takes a deep breath to prove it. His lungs feel lighter in his chest, and for once, he’s talking about his problems and not swimming in guilt, drowning in it. He still feels foggy, weak, unsettled, but at least he knows he’s making Akamatsu happy, hopeful, not sad.

“I won’t.” Akamatsu smiles at him again, wide and happy and proud. “Oh, I have an idea!”

“What is it?” Shuuichi tilts his head to the side.

She stands up, grabbing Shuuichi’s arm and helping him stand. “It’s a surprise! Here, follow me.”

--

Shuuichi stops at the doorway, looking into the space nervously. Akamatsu almost skips into the room, sliding onto the piano seat in one smooth motion. The cover is already up off of the keys, revealing gleaming white and even black, smooth and clean. Akamatsu brushes her fingers over the keys lovingly before she looks back at Shuuichi.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” She waves to some chairs off to the side. “Don’t worry, nobody uses this room this time of day.”

Shuuichi steps inside, fidgeting with the corner of his coat as he sits. He’s still unsure about this whole thing, but he’s gathered at least that Akamatsu is going to play music for him. The plastic of the chair is cold and hard under his thighs. He turns to Akamatsu and watches, attentive, as she stretches before placing her hands on the piano.

The music that flows out of the piano is calming, melodic, familiar. Shuuichi feels himself relaxing the tiniest bit, even though classical music isn't normally his speed. It's soothing, the easy push and pull of the songs, the effortless notes. Akamatsu doesn't falter, doesn't mess up, even though she doesn't even have sheet music in front her. When the song ends, Shuuichi realizes his eyes have slid shut.

“Good?” Akamatsu asks just as he looks at her again.

Shuuichi nods. “Yeah. Yeah, really good.”

Akamatsu grins, standing up, hands on her hips, beaming. “Clair de Lune is such a calming song, so I thought it'd be perfect for this! Anytime you're feeling stressed, just let me know and I can play it for you. I know it's not going to fix anything but it could help, right?”

Shuuichi smiles and nods, letting himself think of something other than the things to come, letting himself focus solely on right now.

“Yeah” he says. “It'll help.”

--

12/13

--

Shuuichi is sitting, the ground damp and soft beneath him. The sky twinkles hungrily, a open maw of stars and ink, leering at him from above. The starlight is burning the earth around him, setting it alight in silver and white, too bright for any natural night sky. His skin is glowing where his rips end, before his hip bones poke out of his skin, the smooth dip in his belly. It’s the only thing that isn’t blue or grey, a golden glow from his guts, a hot, painful heat in his abdomen. Shuuichi stares at it.

It’s cold outside, too, his breath a thick fog in the air, a cotton-puff cloud that wreathes around his face and reminds him that he’s alive, technically, even here. If shuuichi focuses, he can hear the push and sigh of waves against rock. He must be a bit inland from the cliff, right? It makes sense, what with the shrubbery and grass sprouting from the gentle dirt, the smooth ground.

There’s a knife, too, resting on the earth beside him, silver and gleaming, but Shuuichi’s more concerned with the painful heat in his stomach. He rests a hand on his shirt, where the glow pokes through, and he recoils, hand tingling, scalded. The heat grows still. Shuuichi squirms uncomfortably, the damp soil around his sticking to his clothes and his bare hands. He can’t stand it, not for much longer-- it feels like there’s a fire inside of him. He coughs, and a burst of smoke comes out.

Shuuichi grabs the knife, heavy and solid in his palm. The metal of the grip is like ice, so cold that it stings, but Shuuichi doesn’t falter, doesn’t pause. He takes the long handled, white-silver-sharp knife and touches the tip to his stomach, through the shirt. The heat jerks away from it, scared and desperate. Shuuichi pulls up his shirt.

The skin looks like something else entirely, like the aura of light around a flame, like the brilliant halo of the sun. Shuuichi can barely stand to look at it as he drives the tip of the knife into his side, pressing down, pulling. He drags the knife across his stomach, painfully cold against the fevered flesh, and no blood oozes, spills. Light pours from the open wound like it’s what runs through Shuuichi’s veins, and Shuuichi starts to see the source of the fire inside of him.

He dips the edge of the knife into the gap, uses it to lift the object inside of him out into the cold air. A fist sized piece of coal, sputtering embers and smoking softly, tumbles out onto the ground, burning a hole in the tiny grasses and mosses around it. Shuuichi stares, dumbfounded, as it hisses and shakes, slowly dying out. When he looks back at his belly, it’s smooth, undamaged. He feels empty inside, like something’s missing, and the world around him is completely silver and blue, no red or gold in sight as it twists and fades away.

--

12/14

--

“I really wanted to go to that class today, though!” Kaito groans as they walk towards the dorms. “He should have sent out an email, at least. I could have been sleeping instead of walking back and forth!”

Harukawa sighs. “I’m glad it was cancelled.”

Shuuichi nods. “I’m glad you two are free.” He's actually a little anxious about it, but it's still nice.

“Do you guys wanna eat in the dining hall or in one of our rooms?” Kaito shivers. “It's too cold to eat outside.”

“In your room is fine.” Harukawa glances at Shuuichi as she opens the door to the dining hall. “Are you okay with that, Saihara?”

Shuuichi nods, wrapping his fingers around the hems of the sleeves of his hoodie. “Y-yeah. I'll eat with you.”

Kaito blinks, a smile spreading across his face. “You'll eat with us? Awesome!” He looks back at Shuuichi, grinning, as they step into the dining hall. “I'm gonna get spaghetti.”

Shuuichi nods as he pulls away from Harukawa and him. Suddenly, he remembers that he's going to have to pick something out, to grab it and pay for it and take it back to his room and eat it. It's overwhelming, and Shuuichi swallows, anxiety crawling up his throat and filling his head, uncomfortable and insistent. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Maybe he can wait one more day before he starts... this. Maybe he doesn't really have to get better, not right now.

“Wait here.” Harukawa marches off, and Shuuichi's not sure what to do other than listen to her, considering how his heart as started to pound and throb. He knew this would he hard, but he didn't really know, didn't really imagine this. Shuuichi runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. It's been so long since he's actually tried to eat something outside of his normal routine that the fear is almost surprising. Somehow, in hindsight, these things look both easier and harder, farther away, less real. The memories of anxiety are nothing like the flip and flutter of his heart, the shake and tremble of his breath. Shuuichi keeps his eyes glued to Harukawa as she moves through a mostly empty line, her body blocking any view he has of the tray in front of her. He matches his breathing to the beat of the music playing over the speakers, even though it's still a little faster than it should be. It works, works long enough for her to walk back over to him, tray in hand.

“Momota chose the longest line, so we're going to have to wait. Do you like chicken salad?” Harukawa nods down at the tray, at the two sandwiches, two apples, two bottled waters, two containers of trail mix.

Shuuichi nods, his head shaky and heavy on his shoulders. Harukawa doesn't say anything back, just turns her head to watch the crowd. Shuuichi can't get it out of his head, can't escape the thought of having to chew and swallow and digest that food. The thought of chicken salad sits sour on his tongue.

Harukawa spots Kaito before he does, tilting her head in his direction. Shuuichi can see the gigantic bowl of spaghetti and red sauce he's carrying, and his first thought is about how Kaito can eat so much and stay thin. He pushes the thought away, and he waves at Kaito instead.

“Hey, Shuuichi. You didn't get anything?” He's not looking at Harukawa's tray, evidently.

“Ah, Harukawa-san picked something out for me.” Shuuichi can see Kaito's eyes move over to the tray, can see his smile and nod.

“Great! You can bring that back to the rooms?”

Harukawa nods. “It's cardboard.” She turns, starting to walk towards the staircase. “Let's go. I'm hungry.”

Shuuichi is quick to follow after her, keeping one hand on the railing of the stairs and trying his best not to slip or wobble. He still feels fragile, has felt fragile since he couldn't get out of bed two days before. It's like somebody has been slowly pulling out pieces of his bones, replacing them with glass instead. His legs feel like jello as he steps onto the stairwell, his chest like a balloon full of helium.

Shuuichi steps past Harukawa to unlock the door, holding it open so that his friends can walk inside. His blood is rushing in his ears, a river of sound and energy. He shivers when the door shuts, when Kaito and Harukawa set their dishes down on the table. He sits down in a chair before they have time to ask if he's okay, to notice that he's shaking and that his breathing is uneven. Harukawa picks up a sandwich, an apple, a bag of trail mix, a water bottle, pushes them over to Shuuichi one by one. He takes the water bottle and tries to open it, his hands shaking. Kaito and Harukawa are watching him, looking at him, and he can't do this. His breath is uneven and sharp, his heart a desperate beat and rumble, his ribs a cage. Shuuichi grips the edge of the table, squeezes his palm into the sharp corner. He feels it sting and burn as tears form in the corners of his eyes.

“Shuuichi.” Kaito's voice is quieter than the desperate rattling of his heartbeat. “Take a deep breath. Do you have your medicine?”

Shuuichi shakes his head, then nods. “I-I’m not having a p-panic attack. I-I’m fine.” Because if he's not having a panic attack then he's okay and Kaito and Harukawa won't have to worry. He'll be able to eat even though it'll make him fat but he won't die. If he's not panicking he's not broken and he's not sick and he's a normal, functioning college student, not a failure and a mistake. Shuuichi has to shut his eyes because everything around him is blurred and twisting, smearing and mixing.

“Saihara, breath in through your mouth, out through your nose.” That's Harukawa, voice all business with the slightest hint of concern. He listens to her, even though it's hard to focus on anything but the sharp, vicious pain in his head and chest. When he breathes, it feels like some of the tension in his body immediately fades. He's still panicky, still shaky, still had a racing heart and pain in his chest, but he can breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth.

“Take your medicine. Don't argue.” When Shuuichi opens his eyes. Harukawa and Kaito are both looking at him. He reaches into his pocket, hands shaking so hard the pills rattle in the case, and he dumps one out onto his palm. His mouth is dry, but he swallows it. He twists the water bottle open and gulps half of it down, washing the taste of the medicine out of his mouth.

“You okay?” Kaito looks an even mixture of uncomfortable and concerned.

“Y-yeah.” Shuuichi breathes, in and out. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Harukawa and Kaito say in unison, before stoping and looking at each other. Harukawa looks offended, and Kaito's just confused. A giggle bubbles up and escapes Shuuichi, and before he knows it he's laughing hysterically, smothering the sound with his palm against his mouth. He's sure his friends are worried, but he's still riding the adrenaline from the panic attack. Even if it's not for a good reason, it feels good to laugh.

“Shuuichi...?” Kaito reaches across the table, then pulls his hand back. “You okay, bro?”

“Yeah.” Shuuichi shakes his head, takes another deep breath. “I just-- yeah.” It feels like he has emotional whiplash. He's still anxious, not happy, but something in his chest is starting to slowly unwind, probably a combination of the Xanax and the laughing.

He takes the sandwich, peels off a layer of plastic wrap. Harukawa does the same, and Kaito tears open the packaging on his plastic fork, the noise loud and unreal in the dorm room. Shuuichi can smell the yeast in the bread, the basil and tomatoes on Kaito's pasta. He takes half of the sandwich into his hands, takes a small bite.

Harukawa does the same beside him, and he hardly tastes the food before he swallows it. The Xanax is doing his job, and he just feels foggy and numb as he bites into it again. Something in the back of his mind clicks, hums, reminds him that he can't take Xanax every time he eats, that he's going to have to deal with it fully aware eventually, but Shuuichi ignores that part of his brain and sips his water instead.

“Hey, are you two and Kokichi gonna come over for math tomorrow?” Kaito swirls pasta around his fork. “We've got that test.”

Shuuichi nods, and Harukawa speaks. “I'm available. I think Akamatsu wants to come, too.”

“That's fine with me!” Kaito grins, and Shuuichi tries not to look at the food in his mouth.

“Yeah, I'm okay with it too.” Shuuichi picks up his apple. “Do you two want to, um... Do you want to eat lunch together more often?” He peels the sticker off of it, stares at the pale green surface.

“Yeah!” Kaito leans forward, eyes sparkling. “We definitely should, bro!”

Harukawa nods. “I agree. This is nice.”

Shuuichi smiles, then bites into the apple. The juice is sweet and bright on his tongue, a song, a hum. He swallows the bite without letting himself feel bad about it, without letting his anxiety start to bubble and moan again. The buzz of his friends is comfortable around him, warm and soft.

--

12/16

--

The air is like sand, heavy and thick in Shuuichi's lungs. He can't breathe, can't move, can't think. It's like the world around him has turned dirty and dark, messy and ruined. Everything hurts.

He walks through the halls, a ghost. He is the fog in the early morning, the smoke still lingering after a fire dies. It takes thirty minutes for him to have to leave class, to hide in the nearest bathroom and cry, cry and cry and cry until the sleeves of his hoodie are soaked wet with salty tears and his face is rubbed raw from trying to wipe it all away. His chest hurts, a long, slow burn, and he feels weak, fragile, a thin layer of ice on top of a turbulent sea. If he shifts in the slightest way, he'll crack and shatter.

He doesn't eat breakfast, gets out of the room before Kaito can even ask him about it. The water he drinks instead is cool and pure on his lips, heavy and soothing in his gut. Lunch is more of the same, icy and fresh and untainted. Shuuichi feels lighter, foggier, thinner. He's milk watered down with raindrops, blood washed away with a flood. If he doesn't eat, he feels better. It's hard to be anxious when your brain is starved.

He doesn't even bother to think about how he should be eating, how this isn't good. He plays along with Kokichi when he has to, tells Amami he's okay when he asks. The surface of his bathroom floor is cold and smooth under his feet when he weighs himself, the number not even sticking in his mind, just that he's lost weight. It's not a happy thing anymore, but it's not a bad thing either, just a swirl of feelings and smoke and being lost. Shuuichi is lost in a bog in his head, wandering towards the edge of some cliff, playing with death and pretending it's safe. He doesn't really care today. Nothing really matters. If he was dead, he wouldn't be anxious. If he was dead, he wouldn't be sad. If he was dead, he wouldn't be sick.

Shuuichi skips dinner, holes up in his room with all of the lights off instead. He scrolls through his phone with his head buried under the covers, looks at pictures of his friends smiling and having fun. He can’t do that, not anymore. Either he’s not invited or he’s too tired, he’s too sick or he’s too shy. He can’t do anything anymore. The world is grey and awful, sick and sad and it’s all his fault. He did this. When everyone else was smiling and making friends and being alive, happy, Shuuichi drug himself through the dirt and chipped away at himself, made himself into nothing but a tiny concentration of sadness and anxiety. There’s nothing left of him but a shade, a flicker, a hint. He’s nothing. Shuuichi closes his phone and gets up, paces tight circles in his tiny room, ignores the way he can feel Kaito’s worry even through the wall.

He can’t do this anymore. He’s been trying, trying so so hard, but he can’t be strong all of the time. Anything would be better than living like this. What’s the point in saving his own life if there’s nothing left of it?

Shuuichi falls asleep wondering if he even knows himself anymore.

Chapter 16: 12/17 -12/23

Chapter Text

12/17

--

Shuuichi is about to knock again, his hand raised in from of the door, when it opens, revealing Kokichi. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, yawning and blinking up at Shuuichi.

“It’s early, Shuuichi-chan. I have a class, too.” Kokichi leans forward, his side against the doorframe and his head tipped for that his hair brushes against it.

“You don’t have a class until noon on Mondays.” He’d asked last week, out of curiosity. “Sorry to wake you up.”

Kokichi giggles and turns around, walking back into the room. “It’s fine if it’s you, Shuuichi-chan. What do you want from me so early in the morning?”

Shuuichi steps inside, notes Kiibo’s absence. “I...” He doesn’t want to say that he’s been having a hard day. Hard two days, actually. Yesterday he didn’t eat, didn’t let one bite of food pass his lips, floated like a whisper of himself on fumes and shadows for the entire day. Shuuichi is still foggy, still light and weak and infinitely small, but he’s slightly more awake with the energy he gained from sleeping. “It’s already nine...”

“Nine is early!” Kokichi opens the door to his room and walks inside. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Shuuichi tries not to stare as Kokichi tugs his shirt off, over his head. “I was wondering if we could go out? To eat.” He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Kokichi glances at him over his shoulder just before he rugs on a different shirt, one that’s more his size.

“I guessed it’d be something like that, Shuuichi-chan. You’re pretty easy to figure out, you know.” Kokichi shimmies his shorts off, and Shuuichi keeps his gaze firmly locked on the floor and not Kokichi’s neon pink boxers. “But yeah, we can go get breakfast. The dining hall?”

Shuuichi struggles to speak for a moment. “I-- uh.” He takes a breath, focuses on the sensation of his feet against the ground. “Not the dining hall.” Kaito’s probably there, and he’d be too much excitement for Shuuichi this morning. Not to mention, Shuuichi wouldn’t be able to cope with the people there, watching him, eyes on his lips and his body as he breaks his fast.

“That’s fine! I don’t like the dining hall anyway.” Shuuichi’s not sure that’s a lie, given that Kokichi rarely goes there. “How about the cafe?”

Shuuichi nods, because it shouldn’t be that crowded on a Monday and he can get something light. “That’s fine.” Judging by the way his stomach is already twisted into knots and snarls, he wouldn’t be able to eat much even if he wanted to.

“Okay~! I’m dressed, Shuuichi-chan. You can look now.” Shuuichi’s not sure why he listens to Kokichi, but he does. When he looks up, Kokichi’s pants are on his head and not on his legs, his stance wide and his hands on his hips. He looks so proud of himself that Shuuichi laughs, a chuckle spilling out from his lips and filling the room. Kokichi beams at him, still half naked.

“That was a lie, duh!” Kokichi pulls the pants off of his head and starts to actually put them on. “Jeez, Shuuichi-chan, you’d think you’d know better by now.”

Shuuichi shakes his head, turning around so that he’s not watching Kokichi get dressed. “Would you rather I didn’t trust you?”

“Hmm? You trust me?” Kokichi’s hand touches Shuuichi’s shoulder, but he doesn’t turn around. Warmth seeps through the fabric of Shuuichi’s shirt, melting into his skin.

“Y-yeah, I do...” He shivers as Kokichi leans up against his back. “Please tell me you’re wearing pants now.”

“I am!” Kokichi’s voice is sing-song, light and easy. “But, anyway, I knew that you trusted me already. It’s kinda obvious, isn’t it, Shuuichi-chan?”

“I guess?” Shuuichi glances back, and Kokichi kisses him on his cheek quickly enough to startle him. “K-kokichi-kun--”

“It’s obvious because you came over here, duh. Let’s get going~!” Kokichi steps back, then twirls and hops in front of Shuuichi, graceful and catlike. Shuuichi stares at him for a moment before following, letting Kokichi open the door to the hallway and start off towards the stairs. The way Kokichi walks is always so neat, so light, that Shuuichi feels like a lumbering giant behind him. He swears the people on the floor beneath them must hear the sound of Shuuichi's footsteps and grimace, frown and twist their mouths into scowls. Shuuichi tries to walk softly as they start down the stairs.

“Y’know, Shuuichi-chan, we should go to mall sometime before Christmas.”

Shuuichi blinks. “Why...?”

Kokichi giggles, bright and untarnished in the space of the stairwell. “So I can sit on Santa's lap and ask for presents, duh!” He glances back at Shuuichi over his shoulder, grinning.

“You're too old for that, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi knows he's joking, but he plays along anyway because it's a good distraction.

“Well, duh.” Kokichi hops down onto the floor, skipping a step. “But don't I look young enough to pass for a kid? If I was really confident about it, I bet I could fool everyone!”

Shuuichi chuckles, shaking his head while they walk through the dorm’s entrance area. “I don't know about that...”

“Do you think Yumeno-chan could?” Kokichi holds the door open for Shuuichi, and biting winter wind rushes into the space. Shuuichi shivers and steps through.

“Maybe.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d worn a thicker coat. “I think it’d depend on what kind of clothes she wore.”

“Oh, so I just need to buy some kids’ clothing and then we can go, right? Right?” Kokichi turns around and walks backwards, hands behind his head. “This’ll be easy peasy!”

“Please don’t...” The air around Shuuichi’s face fills with fog from his breath. “I’m not going with you if you’re pretending to be a kid.”

“Awww, Shuuichi-chan’s so mean!” Kokichi turns, like he can somehow actually see where he’s going despite still being backwards. “It’s okay though, that was a lie. I don’t even like the mall.”

“Me neither.” Shuuichi looks down at his feet they step up onto the curb in front of the cafe. “Unless that’s a lie, too?”

“Nope!” Kokichi opens the door for Shuuichi, and he steps inside. “That one’s the truth, Shuuichi-chan! Malls are way too boring and crowded for me.”

“Ah...” Shuuichi trails off as he approaches the counter, staring up at the menu. The barista seems busy, mixing something together and not looking at him, but he still feels self conscious. He takes his hands out of his pockets, then puts them back in. He came here to eat, but he doesn’t want to and he doesn’t know what to get. The choices are overwhelming, and up on that board, all they look like is calories calories calories. Shuuichi shivers, even though it’s plenty warm inside.

“Let’s get the same thing, Shuuichi-chan! It’ll be cute~!” Kokichi nudges his shoulder. “I’ll order, too.” He turns to the counter, leaning on it, while Shuuichi just stares at him. He knows that Kokichi’s trying to help him out, but his brain can’t process it, can’t let him think about it. He watches dumbly as the barista takes their order and Kokichi turns back around, reaching forward. Shuuichi manages to be surprised when Kokichi takes his hand.

“I got us matcha lattes and fruit cups. Is that okay?” Kokichi’s voice is that soft, gentle tone he uses when Shuuichi’s upset. Shuuichi nods, trying to shake his head enough to knock the anxiety away.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Can we go sit down?”

Kokichi smiles and nods. “Sure, Shuuichi-chan! But we gotta wait inside until our drinks are done.” He skips over to a table and sits on it, ignoring the chairs on either side of it. Shuuichi shakes his head, shaking away his anxiety and focusing instead on making sure Kokichi doesn’t cause too much of a ruckus. The smaller boy seems intent on sitting as close to the edge of the table as he physically can without falling, wiggling himself forward and balancing his hands on either side of himself.

“Y-you could fall, Kokichi-kun...” Shuuichi inches closer, in case Kokichi does fall. It seems like he knows what he’s doing, though, because all that happens is he manages to inch even close to Shuuichi.

“That’s the goal, Shuuichi-chan! Haven’t you ever heard of a trust fall?” Kokichi wiggles, ever closer to the edge. “You wouldn’t let me fall, right?”

“I-I wouldn’t, but I don’t really think--”

“Two matcha lattes and two fruit cups for... Obama?” The barista sounds just as confused as Shuuichi is, especially when Kokichi hops off of the table, nearly running into Shuuichi, and walks over to the counter.

“Thanks, miss! America is grateful for your contribution.” He grabs one of each thing, then turns his head back to Shuuichi. “Well? I don’t have very many arms, you know.”

Shuuichi starts, then scrambles over to the counter, taking his drink and his fruit. The cup is warm under his fingers, even with the drink holder, and it’s nice. Something in the back of his mind helpfully supplies that Kokichi doesn’t even really like warm drinks, that he complained about them once ages ago. Shuuichi knows that Kokichi just got the same thing as him so he wouldn’t be able to compare what they were eating, but he’s still nervous he’ll still eat more than Kokichi somehow. That he’ll finish his drink first and Kokichi will leave some in his cup, uneaten. He forces the thought away, instead trailing behind Kokichi as he walks towards the patio door.

“It won’t be too cold?” Shuuichi is kind of enjoying the heating inside of the cafe.

“Nope!” Kokichi opens the door. “Look, Shuuichi-chan.”

Shuuichi steps out onto the patio, and he's surprised that it's fairly warm, even if it's colder than inside. He glances up.

“Heat lamps?”

Kokichi bounces past him. “Yup! This way my beloved Shuuichi-chan won't freeze!” He sets his drink and his food down on a table and sits down, looking at Shuuichi expectantly.

Shuuichi follows suit, sitting across from him gingerly. The chair’s metal surface is still pretty cold, but not unbearable. He watches Kokichi take a sip of his drink.

“This is pretty good, actually!” Kokichi giggles. “I was expecting it to be nasty, coming from a college cafe.”

Shuuichi glances through the glass windows into the cafe, but the barista doesn't seem to have heard him. “I think you can make good drinks even at a college...”

“Mhmm!” Kokichi takes another sip, beaming at Shuuichi. “You should try some too Shuuichi-chan!”

Oh. Shuuichi realizes what Kokichi's doing, but he goes along with it anyways, peeling the lid off of his cup and staring at the green foam on top. It smells nutty, milky, rich. He takes a deep breath, then picks the cup up and pours a tiny bit into his mouth. Warm, sweet tea fills his senses.

“Y-yeah.” He sets his cup down. “It's nice.”

“Good! Since Shuuichi-chan likes it, and I paid for it, you better drink it all!” Kokichi pries open the plastic fruit container. “Otherwise I'll think you're lying about liking it.”

Shuuichi chuckles, knowing exactly why Kokichi’s saying that and willing to play along. “Don't you lie all the time?” He lifts the cup to his lips, fills his mouth with the milky liquid. It's good, like Kokichi said. Drinking this feels easier than eating, somehow.

“Nope!” Kokichi pulls a grape out of the cup and pops it into his mouth. “I hate lies and jokes, remember?”

Shuuichi laughs. “Yeah, right.” He swallows another mouthful of tea.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Kokichi leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Do you wanna join my secret organization? We're having a biiiiiiig heist next week and having a detective on our side would be a huge help.”

Shuuichi looks away from Kokichi for long enough to open the cup of fruit and get a small piece of melon out. “What kind of heist...? You're not stealing anything important, are you?”

“Nope!” When Shuuichi looks back up at him, his eyes are shining amethysts in the winter sun. “But it is gonna be a lot of fun dodging the police!”

Shuuichi laughs uneasily, not sure if that's entirely a joke. He wouldn't put it past Kokichi to actually get chased after. “I don't know if that's a good idea, then. It's bad to break the law.”

“The law is fake, anyway. It's meant to be broken by evil geniuses like me!” Kokichi grins wildly. “My offer still stands.”

“Huh?” Shuuichi quickly swallows the strawberry in his mouth. “Ah, no thank you. I don't really want to be arrested...”

Kokichi snorts. “You'd only get arrested if you got caught, silly. But that's fine! You're still my beloved Shuuichi-chan.”

“Even if I won't break the law for you?” Shuuichi sets his empty cup down on the table, the last whispers of green tea curled around his tongue.

“Yup!” Kokichi's fruit cup is empty, and when he grabs his latte, he tilts it all the way back before setting it down. Shuuichi looks down at his own food and blinks. He's eaten all of it?

“I ate all of that.” It sounds stupid out loud, but Shuuichi's kind of surprised. He's not sure if he's been that out of it, if Kokichi is good at distracting him, or if he's just gotten lucky, but he didn't think it was possible for him to eat a full meal without anxiety.

“Mhmm.” Kokichi's expression had dulled slightly, turned cautious. “Are you okay, Shuuichi-chan?”

Shuuichi nods, hesitantly. He feels okay, actually, probably because he knows he hadn't eaten much recently and it's mostly just fruit anyways. “I think so.”

“Good!” Kokichi drums his fingers on the surface of the table. “I wish you'd eat more, but anything is better than nothing.”

Shuuichi looks down. “I didn't eat at all yesterday.” He can hear his voice shake, but he's not sure that it's loud enough for Kokichi to notice too.

“I'm glad you came to me, this time.” Kokichi's voice is quiet too, so soft that Shuuichi wonders if he was even meant to hear.

“Me too.” Shuuichi is glad, he thinks, even if he might not be later when he's thinking about how much he's eaten and how guilty he feels, how gross and disgusting his body sits, how he steeps in his own fat.

“Next time, tell me on the day of, okay?” Kokichi leans forward, his chest almost touching his empty cup. “There's a prank you can only pull off with someone who hasn't eaten for exactly nine and a half hours.”

“Is there?” Shuuichi doesn't even try to keep the doubt out of his voice.

“That was a lie!” Kokichi cackles, leans back on his chair and relaxes. “But the other stuff wasn't, you know. It's a boyfriend's job to help with this stuff.”

“Thank you, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi fidgets with his jacket sleeve.

“Nope!” Kokichi reaches across the table, takes Shuuichi's hands into his own. “Thank you, Shuuichi-chan!”

--

12/19

--

“I think you'll really like this trail.” Amami turns the car into a parking spot, the sunlight falling through the windshield dappled by shadows of leaves. “It's pretty easy, but it's long and the view is really nice.”

“I think I'll like it, too.” Shuuichi stares out the window, at the trees beside them. “Thanks for inviting me along.”

Amami chuckles as he turns off the car. “You're doing me a favor, really. I like hiking alone too, but I've been kind of lonely lately.”

Shuuichi hops out of the car, the air cool and crisp on his face. It smells like pine trees, cedar, and Christmas time, but all Shuuichi can think of for a moment is the camping trip over a month ago. He breathes in forest air, his mind singing campfire smoke and smores.

“I hope I'm good company,” he says, watching a squirrel clambor up a tree trunk. It's not the same park as last time, but Shuuichi suspects that all parks are going to remind him of that trip for a very long time.

“I'm sure you will be.” Amami slings a small bag over his shoulder and shuts his door. “You ready?”

Shuuichi nods, walking over to the other side of the car and following Amami towards a gap in the treeline, a streak of dusty red earth poking through. The path looks well kept but not frequently used; leaves and pine needles scattered across the soil. It's dark under the trees even in the morning sunlight, and Shuuichi watches Amami's hair go from pale green to a deep grey as the shade falls over him.

“I normally take this trail with my sisters, actually. Not all of them at once, of course.” Amami chuckles, looking back at Shuuichi.

“Ah, that sounds nice.” Shuuichi hopes he comes off as genuine, because he is, but he's also a bit distracted by the forest around them. For some reason, it's alluring, drawing him into it's depths. He can see a scarlet red cardinal in the branches to his left, the soft white of flower petals to his right. It seems strange that anything would be blooming in winter, but it is, and the red, white, and green make the woods seem festive in a natural way.

“They're busy with school lately. The oldest one, she's in high school, so it won't be long before she leaves home.” Amami sighs. “I'm going to miss her. I miss all of them.”

“You care about them a lot.” Shuuichi doesn't phrase it as a question because it's obvious that he's right.

Amami chuckles. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Y’know, Saihara-kun, I kind of think of you as a brother.” He pauses, and when Shuuichi looks at him, he's scratching the side of his neck. “I hope that's not weird...”

Shuuichi shakes his head, a smile forming on his lips. “No, it's not!” He can feel a bit of heat on his cheeks, bright and happy against the winter chill. “It's nice.”

Amami smiles then, elbowing him. “Good!” He looks forward, squinting at where the trail turns into the trees. “There's a pretty nice view up ahead. Let's take a break.”

Shuuichi nods, falling into silence as they march through the trees, following the path as it winds and twists, red dirt marking the way. The air is clean, cold, refreshing, and Shuuichi feels brighter, more awake than normal. A tiny, mute part of his brain chirps that it's because he's eaten, because he has the blood sugar to sustain his attention. Shuuichi brushes the thought aside because he's enjoying him himself enough that he'd rather not think about food at all. Pine needles swirl around him, drifting through the air, dropping to the ground, ripped free by the wind. Shuuichi breathes through his nose, smells the pine and the ghost of woodsmoke.

The trees break ahead, revealing a sharp drop, the edge of a hill. Shuuichi hurries, pulling ahead of Amami in his excitement. The path overlooks the woods surrounding a twisted creek, silver and shining in the morning light. The breeze ruffles Shuuichi's hair, blown from over the valley and the water. The sun lurks unseen behind misty grey clouds, lit from within. It's breathtaking, and Shuuichi knows Amami chose this trail for this reason.

“Pretty, right?” Amami stands beside him, warmth leeching off of his body so much that Shuuichi can feel it. “It never gets old, no matter how many times I walk this way.”

“Yeah.” Shuuichi swallows, his words stuck in his throat. “It's... beautiful.”

Amami chuckles, reaching up to ruffles Shuuichi's hair. Shuuichi startles at the motion, but lets him do it, a smile pulling at both of their lips. There's something nice about this, about standing at the edge of a small cliff and not thinking about jumping off, just appreciating the view on the other side. It might be because he's been at death's door this whole month, but standing here, he's not the slightest bit worried.

“Oh, I brought snacks.” Amami holds a finger up, then turns and run rummages in his bag. “I'd like you to eat something.”

Shuuichi takes a deep breath, shoves his hands in his pockets. “Amami-kun, I--”

“I don't want to ruin this,” Amami gestures at the air around them, the green and gold pine trees, the rusty red earth. “But you haven't actually gotten treatment. I can't just let you die, Saihara-kun, that--”

“What did you bring? To eat, I mean.” Shuuichi's voice is shaky and he knows Amami can hear it, but Amami's mouth snaps shut. He reaches into the bag, pulls out two granola bars, and passes one to Shuuichi.

“Here.” He gives Shuuichi a look, long and even and serious. “You're trying, aren't you?”

Shuuichi takes the bar, fingers trembling just the slightest bit (which is ridiculous given he ate more than this for breakfast). The foil crinkles and glitters until his fingertips.

“Y-yeah. I'm trying.” He opens it, almost dropping the food inside with how hard his hands are shaking. He brings it to his lips, tastes oats and honey. He smiles at Amami, and Amami smiles back.

“Sorry that I gave you such a hard time, you know,” Amami waves a hand as he bites into his own granola bar. “A while back.”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “I think I needed that, Amami-kun.”

--

12/21

--

“Hey, Kiibaby, do you think they sell strap-ons here?” Kokichi bounces behind Kiibo, eyebrows wiggling and mouth stretched in a grin. Shuuichi watches, half amused and half sympathetic for Kiibo.

“Why would they have those?” Kiibo crosses his arms. “It's a clothing store. And what do you plan on using that for, anyway?”

“For you, Kiiboy!” Kokichi giggles. “I mean, do robots even have dicks?”

Kiibo splutters and turns red. “I'm not a robot, Kokichi!”

“Hmm, I don't know,” Kokichi puts his hands behind his head. “Can you prove it?”

Shuuichi starts to talk before Kokichi can upset Kiibo any more. “Kokichi-kun, weren't you looking for a sweater?”

“Oh, yeah!” Kokichi doesn't even bother to pretend he'd actually forgotten, skipping off to a rack of thick knit clothes.

“I can't with him...” Kiibo shakes his head. “It's not really that funny.”

Shuuichi gives him a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Kiibo-kun. I don't think he actually wants to hurt you.”

Kibbo huffs. “Yeah, I know, but he's still an asshole.” He glances over to the asshole in question, where he's laying sweater after sweater over his arms, emptying the rack. “We should probably go stop him...” He sighs.

Shuuichi nods, taking a step towards Kokichi. “Kokichi-kun, isn't that a few too many?”

“Nope!” Kokichi turns around, his face almost obscured by the mass of sweaters he's holding. “Shuuichi-chan is gonna watch me try all of them on! He'll see me naked like, a hundred times.”

“Are you in heat or something?” Kiibo rolls his eyes. “Saihara-kun, you don't have to put up with this nonsense. Kokichi's just trying to be as difficult as possible.” Kiibo glares at Kokichi. “Put the ones you aren't actually considering back, neatly.”

“Sure thing, mom!” Kokichi grins, starting to hang the sweaters back up. “Y’know, Shuuichi-chan, Kiiboy likes to order people around a lot. He's like--”

“Kokichi, I swear if you keep this up, i'm going to find all of your panta and empty it onto your presents. All of them.” Kiibo looks incredibly annoyed.

“Would you? Would you really, Kiibaby?” Kokichi drops the sweaters he's still holding and starts jumping up and down, fists pumping. “I should do that to everyone's things!”

“Ah, let's not...” Shuuichi puts a hand on Kokichi's shoulder. “Maybe you should calm down a little?”

Kokichi blinks at him, still grinning, but he stops jumping in place. “I can't, Shuuichi-chan! I'm on cocaine y’know.”

“I don't believe that...” Shuuichi leans down, picking up the forgotten clothes. He starts to hand them up, the fabric soft in his hands.

“You shouldn't have to do that for him, Saihara-kun.” Shuuichi thinks he can hear Kiibo rolling his eyes. “He's an adult, he can clean up after himself.”

“I-It's fine; I don't mind.” Shuuichi turns back to Kiibo and Kokichi, the sweatera safely returned. “I think the workers are probably tired of us though...”

“Yeah, because Kiiboy's a big meanie!” Kokichi crosses his arms over his chest. “Let's go to a different store and annoy them!”

“We could go to the sports store down the road? I want to get something for Amami-kun, but I'm not sure what.” Shuuichi hopes that Kokichi isn't actually intent on getting them kicked out of every store they go into.

“That works for me.”

“Yeah! I can get freeze dried food and mix it with panta instead of water to make it.” Kokichi winks.

“Please don't.” Kiibo groans, and Shuuichi giggles, hiding his smile behind his hand.

--

12/23

--

Shuuichi runs a hand through his hair, skin clammy and cold. His mind is a runaway train, speeding forward without his consent, smoke oozing out behind it. His breath stops and stutters like the bumping of wheels over rails.

Shuuichi sits down, sits on his bed and forces himself to breathe in, slow and painful and heavy. He's alone in the dorm because Kaito is busy, and it's not exactly the prime opportunity for him to be having a panic attack over nothing. He wraps his fingers in the fabric of his bedsheets, squeezes it against his palm, focuses on the way it feels rough on his sweaty skin. His chest burns like a firecracker.

This is stupid, it's so so stupid. Shuuichi just doesn't want to go home for Christmas, doesn't want to force himself to choke down cookies and hot cocoa in front of his uncle, force himself to explain why he has a panic attack half the time he tries to eat. This whole thing is agony, red hot and glowing, hard to ignore for him or outsiders. He can't handle his uncle knowing. He can't eat at home. It's ridiculous, but he doesn't want to try, doesn't want to risk ruining the tiny balance he's found between the bright, crackling fire in his heart and his health. He's only just started to eat three meals a day, only just stopped losing weight. He can't give this up for a holiday.

Shuuichi takes his phone out of his pocket, shiny surface slick and cool. He dials his uncle's number, waits for him to pick up.

“Shuuichi? Hey, what's up?” His uncle's voice is warm, but surprised. Shuuichi normal texts first.

“H-hello. I-I was just-- I can't-- I--” Shuuichi doesn't know what to say, can't get the words past the lump in his throat.

“Deep breaths, kiddo. No rush.”

“R-Right.” Shuuichi breaths in, deep and noisy. “Um, I can't make it home for Christmas.”

Static on the other side of the phone. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Shuuichi swallows. “T-the plane tickets are too expensive, and I c-can't... can't afford them.” The lie is so bitter, so sharp on his tongue.

“Oh, I'm sorry Shuuichi. Are you going to have anyone there with you, at least?” His uncle sound disappointed, not mad.

“You're okay with it?” Shuuichi thinks he sounds like a little kid.

“I mean, I'd like you home, but there isn't any point in me being upset if there's nothing we can do about it. You didn't answer my question.”

“Sorry.” Shuuichi takes another breath. “My, uh, boyfriend will be here...”

Shuuichi's uncle makes a noise somewhere in the realm of pleasant surprise. “Ohoh, Shuuichi's got a boyfriend now? I better keep a close eye on you, otherwise you'll be getting married in Vegas.”

Shuuichi chuckles, his face heating up the slightest bit. “We're not eloping...”

“I know, I know. Well, stay safe, okay? I really want to talk more, but I'm supposed to go the police station in five.”

Shuuichi nods, then remembers that he's on the phone. “Y-yeah. Be careful.”

“You too, Shuuichi.” The phone beeps as he hangs up. Shuuichi drops it to the bed and takes another breath. The space around him feels steamy with his breath, clouded and thick. It's like he can't get any oxygen, no matter how much he breathes.

His hands scrabble at the fabric of his jeans where they're loose on his thighs. Fingertips grip a bruising bite, and Shuuichi pretends he's not choking on the smoke stuck in his throat. This is so stupid. If his uncle's not mad, he shouldn't be like this right now. If he's been eating, he shouldn't have a headache. If he's decided to stop getting worse, he shouldn't feel worse. He shouldn't want to, in some twisted part of his mind, get worse than he is now, so sick he can't move or walk or breathe. Part of him doesn't want to get better, not ever.

Shuuichi takes a breath and tries to think about the feeling of the carpet beneath his bare feet, toes brushing the surface from where his legs dangle off the side of his bed. This is a bad idea. If he lets himself think this, he's going to slip, going to get worse for real. He's going to die.

Shuuichi dials another number, and the phone rings and rings while he waits. He's about to give up, about to put his phone away and go to sleep without eating dinner, but a voice fills his ear.

“Shuuichi-chan?” Kokichi sounds the slightest bit worried, but then again, Shuuichi wouldn't be shocked if he could hear his frantic breathing through the phone.

“K-kokichi, sorry. I know you're busy but--”

“Shuuichi-chan, I'm not busy. Can you take a deep breath? In through the mouth and out through your nose.” Shuuichi can hear footsteps, quick and light, on Kokichi's end. “Where are you?”

“Y-you don't have to come, Kokichi-kun. I-I’m just a little stressed.” Shuuichi does what he says though, the air hard to get down into his lungs, stiff and unyielding.

“I’m not coming, I’m just wondering.” Yeah, right, Shuuichi thinks, hearing Kokichi’s footsteps and his breath, slightly labored.

“You’re jogging. I... I just told my uncle I wasn’t coming home for Christmas.”

“What?” Kokichi stops, and Shuuichi can hear him gulp down air. “Why?”

“I can’t... I can’t go home and eat.” Shuuichi rubs his eyes with his hand. “Sorry. I guess we’ll spend Christmas here?”

“But I wanted to do PDA in front of your uncle!” Kokichi’s footsteps pick up again, and Shuuichi realizes he probably thought Shuuichi meant something else entirely. “Anyway, where are you, Shuuichi-chan?”

“I’m in my room.” Shuuichi figures Kokichi will figure it out regardless.

“Cool. I’m not going there, but if someone knocks at the door, you should answer.” Kokichi must have opened a door because the subtle sound of wind disappears from his side of the phone call. Shuuichi makes himself take a breath, because he’d forgotten to.

“It's unlocked.” He plays with the hems of his jeans, leaned over so he can touch his ankle.

“Wow, Shuuichi-chan’s living dangerously~!” Kokichi snickers from the other side of the phone. “Is a bad guy gonna get in? Should I be worried?”

Shuuichi thinks that last one might be an actual question. “No, I’m okay. I was just anxious.”

Kokichi hums. “If you say so!” Shuuichi hears his door opening, and Kokichi hangs up on the other side of the line.

“I'm in my room.” Shuuichi's voice feels smaller when he's not speaking into the phone, when he's having to talk across the dorm room. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground, listening to the soft footsteps as Kokichi walks over to him.

“Hey, Shuuichi-chan.” Kokichi's feet appear in Shuuichi's vision, purple socks buried in the carpet. “Look at me.”

Shuuichi looks up, realizes he's started crying. He feels his face growing warm again, and he wants to hide and just sob and shake until he's out of tears. This is scary and this is awful but it's also frustrating, infuriatingly difficult. It's like no matter what he wants, he's going to be upset. He takes a breath, interrupted by a sob and wet with tears. Kokichi cups his face in his hands, and Shuuichi stares up at violet eyes.

“Shuuichi-chan, it's okay. You're going to be okay.” Kokichi steps closer, leans over just a bit. With Shuuichi sitting and Kokichi standing, he's just a bit taller than Shuuichi. “Breathe with me.”

Shuuichi can see the rise and fall of Kokichi's chest and shoulders, the smooth inhale and long exhale. He doesn't question it, even though he's not as upset or as anxious as Kokichi seems to think he is. It's nice. His lungs feel fragile, and the air feels gentle, warm and sweet with the smell of his boyfriend. Kokichi's face is smooth, even, the faintest hint a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Shuuichi lets himself think only about his face: the way it's glowing pale, the glow and flicker in his eyes, the shadows of his hair above his eyes. Kokichi ducks his head down the slightest bit and kisses Shuuichi on the forehead, quick and light.

“Are you okay?” Kokichi asks, softer than the hum of the heating.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi says. “I'm working on it.”

Chapter 17: 12/25 - 1/1

Chapter Text

12/25

--

A loud noise disturbs Shuuichi's sleep, poking through the fog of his consciousness. He rolls over, burying his face in his pillow, but the noise comes again, closer. He realizes it's somebody clapping their hands together, but Shuuichi doesn't really care. He groans and swats the air above him, trying to scare the person off. Warm, soft fingers catch his wrist.

“Shuuichi-chan, wake up!” He knows that voice, childish and loud. Light floods his vision, red behind his eyelids, and Shuuichi sighs at the sound of Kokichi's maniacal giggles.

“Kokichi, I thought I told you to wake him up nicely.” Kaito's voice fills the room, and Shuuichi reluctant sits up, blinking in the light. “Oh, hey Shuuichi!”

“Morning...” Shuuichi yawns and gets a good look at his friends. Kaito's wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that Shuuichi's seen before around the dorm, but Kokichi... His sweater is neon violet and studded with blinking white Christmas lights, his legs covered with green and red striped tights that disappear under a white skirt. Buried in his purple black hair, a headband with reindeer horns attached hides.

“Do you like my ugly Christmas sweater, Shuuichi-chan? Do you?” Kokichi bounces where he's sitting on Shuuichi's bed, making it creak.

“It's, um... An interesting outfit.” Shuuichi rubs at his eyes, trying to wake up more completely. How late did he sleep in? Kokichi's body is blocking his line of sight to his alarm clock, and Shuuichi knows his window is only dim because it's cloudy.

“He likes it! I told you he would, Kaito-chan!” Kokichi sticks his tongue out at Kaito, and it's the same pale pink as his lips.

“That doesn't count and you know it! You think it's ridiculous, right Shuuichi?”

Shuuichi blinks, looking between his two friends. “I think I just woke up...” He'd rather not try and argue this point right now. “What time is it?”

“Noon!”

“About eight.” Kaito's voice blends with Kokichi's, and Shuuichi sighs while Kokichi starts to cackle, tilting his head back and filling the room with laughter. Shuuichi sighs, but he can feel a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Anyway, we're gonna go meet everyone in the fourth floor lounge for this dorm, since it's the biggest. Let’s go!” Kaito opens the door wider, and Shuuichi scrambles out of bed.

“W-wait, Kaito, I’m not dressed...” He glances down at himself, at his sweatpants and his wrinkled t-shirt, mussed up with sleep.

“You’re fine,” Kaito waves a hand dismissively. “I’m pretty sure we’re all wearing pajamas anyway.” He steps out of the doorway and into the main part of the dorm, and Shuuichi moves past Kokichi to follow him, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. He’s cold, and as Kokichi walks beside him through the dorm room and into the hallway, he gives Shuuichi a sidelong glance.

“Is Shuuichi-chan shivering?” Kokichi whispers playfully, nudging Shuuichi in the side.

“Yes...” Shuuichi rubs the bare skin of his arms, goosebumps prickling upward along his skin.

“Here!” Kokichi leans into his, warmth seeping through the scratchy fabric of his sweater, one arm snaking around Shuuichi’s waist. “We can share body heat!”

“Are you two being gross?” Kaito glances back just before stepping up onto the first stair.

“Like you wouldn’t be, if you were getting any.” Kokichi sticks his tongue out at Kaito, and a red blush blossoms on Kaito’s cheeks.

“Hey, how would you know that?! I get plenty, you-- you--”

Kokichi interrupts him with a cackle. “Yeah, right, Kaito-chan. If me and Shuuichi-chan are ever interested in a threesome, I’ll call you up. It’ll be my act of charity for the year!”

“Guys...” Shuuichi sighs while Kaito groans and Kokichi continues to laugh, the noise filling the staircase. “People can probably hear us.”

Kokichi giggles louder. “Who caaares? Everyone’s home for Christmas, anyways.” Shuuichi wonders if he imagines the tiny crack in his voice.

“Except us,” Kaito says. “We’re with our friends, which is much better.”

Kokichi nods quickly, and Shuuichi thinks that he must have missed something while he was sleeping, because Kaito definitely said that to make Kokichi feel better. He smiles as he steps through the open doorway to the fourth floor, the smell of spices and the sound of amused voices filtering through the air. Shuuichi walks quietly behind Kaito, straining his ears to try and pick out who the voices belong to. He doesn’t need to though, because it’s not long until they’re standing at the beginning of the lounge, looking at Kiibo, Hoshi, Harukawa, and Akamatsu. There’s mugs of steaming liquid on the table at the center of the room and wrapped presents resting on the floor, red and green wrapping paper bright in the fluorescent lighting.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Akamatsu smiles at them from her spot on a couch, the bright green of her sweater making her eyes look even pinker than usual. “We were starting to think you three would sleep in all day.”

“It was Shuuichi-chan’s fault!” Kokichi prances forward, sinking into the left side of the couch previously only occupied by Kiibo. “He’s dumb and wouldn’t get up on his own so I had to wake him up.”

“It’s not like there was any rush.” Hoshi shrugs, and he glances at Shuuichi as he sits down next to Ouma. “Do you three want any hot chocolate? Toujou made the mix.”

“Sure!” Kaito grins, and Shuuichi can feel the couch dipping down beside him as he squeezes next to him.

“I’ll have some too.” Shuuichi fidgets with his nails, not looking up. He knows they were all waiting to hear if he’s have some, and he doesn’t really want to see their reactions.

“Can I have panta? Please, Hoshi-chan?” Kokichi bounces where he’s sitting, making the couch squeak beneath them.

“Yeah, we came prepared.” Hoshi stands up, adjusting his green and red striped beanie, and trudges over to the counter in the corner. Shuuichi turns his gaze back towards the people still sitting, the sounds of Hoshi making their drinks still behind him.

Akamatsu pulls a red and white deck of cards out of her pocket, the satiny surface clean and new looking. “Does everyone want to play?” Shuuichi nods, glancing to his sides to see if anyone else has done the same.

“It’s unfortunate that Yumeno-san isn’t here.” Kiibo shifts in his seat. He’s not wearing any Christmas themed clothing, but he’s fiddling with a tiny scrap of glittery red paper. “She has been trying to get us to play cards the entire semester.”

Akamatsu shrugs, a smile on his lips as she deals the cards into neat piles. “Well, these cards were a gift, so I haven’t had much chance before now. We’re playing BS, if that’s alright?”

“Fine with me.” Harukawa reaches forward, sliding her cards off of the table and into her palm. “I’m going first.” She sets down two cards, red backs bright against the pale wood of the table. “Two aces.”

Shuuichi takes his cards, flicking through them and trying to sort them by number. Next to him, Momota and Ouma are doing the same. The sound of his friend’s breath and the movement of playing cards is soothing, and the couch suddenly feels a lot softer underneath him.

“One two.” Kiibo places his card on top of Harukawa's. “Did you three do anything for Christmas Eve?”

“Us?” Shuuichi blinks at Kiibo. “No, we just went to sleep. Kokichi-kun was tired.”

Kiibo gives Kokichi a glance, one eyebrow quirked. “Really? He's normally extra bratty around the holidays. Also, your turn, Kokichi.”

“I'm not bratty! And two threes.” Kokichi sets his cards down with an flourish, a pout on his face.

“BS.” Kiibo reaches over and flips the cards, revealing a five and a jack. He pushes the pile of cards to Kokichi. “I'm just glad that you weren't alone.”

Kokichi huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s your fault I've been alone in the past, dummy. And Shuuichi-chan promised me we'd spend Christmas together, so of course I wasn't going to be alone.”

“One four.” Shuuichi sets down an ace, not looking at the card as he places it. “Kokichi-kun wasn't being a brat exactly...”

“Yeah!” Kaito slams his card down. “He was just really clingy, y’know?”

“I'm right here, you bullies.” Kokichi sticks his tongue out.

“Hot chocolate's ready.” Shuuichi startles at the sound of Hoshi's voice behind him, and he twists, craning his neck back to look at him. Hoshi presses a warm mug into his hands, the smell of chocolate and milk filtering into his nose. He turns back to the table and the cards, inhales deep and pretends his his heart isn't beating faster. The chocolate is warm and sweet on his tongue, the liquid soft and gentle down his throat.

“Good?” Hoshi nods at him as he sinks back in his seat, setting his own mug down.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi says, nodding. “It's nice.”

--

12/27

--

The door shuts with a soft click behind him, and Shuuichi struggles to keep his grip on both the bag of food and his water bottle as he kicks off his shoes.

“Hey, Harumaki, can you set this down?” Kaito passes her his bag of takeout containers. “Thanks.” Shuuichi watches as he rests a hand on the door frame and peels off his shoes, dropping then beside Shuuichi's. The air is heavy with the smell of food, Kaito's fried chicken leaking through the styrofoam and staining the space. Shuuichi thinks about his sandwich, hiding under the plastic, and reminds himself that if he doesn't eat he'll eventually die. He shudders the tiniest bit as he steps into the room properly, sinking into the chair beside Harukawa with a sigh.

“Don’t think too much.” Harukawa's fingers pry the top off her soup container, the steam spilling up into the air. “You're okay. It's just lunch.” She sets the lid down, and Shuuichi stares at the way she tears the clear plastic off of her spoon.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi swallows as Kaito sits down on his other side. “It's just, we had a quiz today that I didn't do so well on. I think.”

“You still have to eat.” Kaito pipes up, voice loud and bright as he opens his food. “Even if you failed it, you'd still deserve food, Shuuichi.”

Harukawa nods. “Kaito's right. Quit procrastinating.” She gestures at Shuuichi's still unopened bag of food. He takes a deep breath, oxygen dizzying to his brain, and dips his fingers into the bag, pulls out a bright green apple, a container of thick, white yogurt, strawberry pink swirls at the bottom of the clear cup. Lastly, he carefully removes the shrink-wrapped sandwich, lettuce and turkey and cheese pressed up against the clear skin.

“Oi, Shuuichi, are you going to the new year’s party?” Kaito's voice is muffled by fried chicken and french fries as Shuuichi takes a bite of apple.

“Mm, I don't think so...” He swallows, the juice bright and glowing in his throat.

“Yeah, I don't think I'm going either.” Kaito laughs. “Last time I went to a party wasn't really fun.”

“That's because you didn't listen to me when I told you to slow down on the drinks.” Harukawa shakes her head as she swirls her soup with the spoon. “You're a lightweight.”

“Am not!” Kaito's grinning, even as he shakes his head. “You're just inhuman.”

“I didn't get sick from drinking,” Harukawa says, slowly, like she's talking to a small child, “because I wasn't drinking.”

“Bullsh*t! I saw you drinking stuff all night!”

Harukawa sighs and looks at Shuuichi, her face pained. “It was water. I was drinking water.”

Shuuichi giggles, covering his mouth with one hand. Harukawa and Kaito both turn to look at him. Kaito bursts into laughter, and Harukawa smiles, her face relaxed and calm. Shuuichi waits until his laughter dies down to bite into his sandwich, his lips still pulled in a smile when his teeth sink into the bread.

“Y’know, I'm really glad we've started doing this.” Kaito waves his hand at the three of them. “I know it's for Shuuichi, but I think it's good for all three of us.”

“It is.” Harukawa nods, her throat bobbing as she swallows a mouthful of soup.

“I'm glad you guys are here for me. And that it's not too much of a burden...” Shuuichi picks at a piece of cheese sticking out from the side of his sandwich, rips it off and smushes it into a napkin.

“You're never a burden, Shuuichi!” Kaito slams one hand onto the table, making Harukawa's soup spill a couple of drops over the side. “Right, Harumaki?!”

“I agree, but you don't need to shout. We're all in the same room.” Harukawa wipes up the drops of broth as they trickle down the side of the styrofoam cup.

“I have been doing better, though.” Shuuichi swallows the last bite of the first half of his sandwich, letting it slide into his stomach with the remains of his apple. “Thank you. For being here.”

“You're the one who's doing the work.” Harukawa stares him straight in the eye. “We don't need to be thanked.”

“O-oh...” Shuuichi takes a bite out of his sandwich so that he doesn't have to say anything else, lets it slip down his throat easily. He realizes, as he bites in again, that this is easier than it used to be. It's still hard-- anxiety still hums, waiting and ready, in the pit of his stomach and the top of his throat-- but it's not as hard as the first time he tried to eat more, not as hard as the second. Shuuichi feels like he's been unwrapping himself, pulling layer after layer of ice and smoke and lies off of himself, getting closer and closer to the real him. Swallowing meat and bread and cheese, eating an apple and opening the container of yogurt feels like stripping naked in front of his friends, feels vulnerable and weak. Shuuichi dips his spoon into his yogurt, slides the spoon into his mouth.

“We should hang out.” Kaito takes a drink of water and sighs. “New Year’s, I mean. If a lot of us are skipping the big party, we could get together with some of the study group.”

Harukawa nods. “That works for me. I don’t have anything I want to do on New Year’s.”

Shuuichi sets down his spoon and twists open his water bottle, taking a long drink before replying. “I’d like that, too. Kokichi-kun can come too, right?”

Kaito laughs. “Well, duh. He’s annoying but he’s still our friend.” He pulls out his phone. “Are you two cool with me just sending something about it in the group chat?”

Shuuichi nods, and he can see Harukawa doing the same out of the corner of his eye. He takes a deep breath, his lungs filling slowly. He can feel the edges of his mind starting to blink awake, to point out that he’s not hungry right now, not cold. The smoky parts of him start to hum and whistle that he shouldn’t be full, shouldn’t be happy with food in his belly, but he pushes the thoughts away. He’s spent so long feeling like he’s at the bottom of the sea, buried under miles and miles of smoke colored water, floating along with the corpses of fish. Now that he’s finally started swimming, dragging himself through the water with fragile, wet, paper-thin arms, he’s gotten close enough to see the light of the sun, the weight of the sky above him has started to press back down.

Shuuichi is tired of drowning.

--

12/30

--

Shuuichi can feel the tap of his shoes against the pavement as he hurries after Kokichi, the air cool against the skin of his cheeks. He sighs as Kokichi rounds another corner, dashing ahead.

“Kokichi-kun, wait up!” Shuuichi’s breath is coming quickly after a solid hour of chasing Kokichi around the shopping center, between other people and into buildings, through alleys and into parks. He leans over, rests his palms on his bent knees, and feels the heat of each exhale prickle around his face. At least he’s not cold, not after all of that running.

“Shuuichi-chan?” Kokichi peeks his head around the corner, a tiny grin on his face. “You’re not dying on me, are you?”

“I’m okay,” Shuuichi straightens up, pauses to breathe between words. “Just winded. Can we take a break?”

Kokichi nods. “Yup! But we have to sit down because I’m tired.” He sighs dramatically, the fog around his mouth a thick cloud. Shuuichi resists the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because he knows Kokichi only wants to sit down for his benefit. He glances around, spotting a bench quickly enough. There’s ice on it, but Shuuichi is just grateful for the rest as he sinks down onto the cold metal. Kokichi plops down beside him, eyes twinkling.

“So~” Kokichi leans against his shoulder. “What do you wanna do after this?”

Shuuichi hums. “I could chase you around some more if you want?”

“Nope!” Kokichi swings his legs, kicking the concrete as he talks. “I’m bored of that. Let’s get snacks and watch a movie in your room!”

Shuuichi blinks, then smiles. “Ah, that’s fine. Kaito will be there, though.”

Kokichi shrugs. “As long as he lets me pick the movie, I don’t care. We gotta get panta though, it’s important. If I watch a movie without it, my eyes will fall out.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’s true...” Shuuichi chuckles. “We can get panta, though. They sell it at the convenience store on the way back, right?”

“Mhmm!” Kokichi hops off of the bench and turns to stand in front of Shuuichi, looking down at him with a wide grin. “Have you ever had panta, Shuuichi-chan?” He offers his hand.

Shuuichi accepts his help, surprised by Kokichi’s strength as he helps him to his feet. “I think so, but not recently.”

“Well, we’re going to have to change that, won’t we?” Kokichi turns to face forwards, not letting go of Shuuichi’s hand, and Shuuichi hurries after him as he starts to skip along the sidewalk. The air is crisp and cool around him, and just those few seconds not exercising has let him grow cold, chills seeping through his jacket and into his skin. Shuuichi is grateful for the brisk pace that Kokichi sets, dragging him down the street and back towards campus. It’s certainly not going to be a long walk, and Shuuichi’s glad they're’ not talking, glad he can hear the smack of Kokichi’s shoes against the pavement, the rustle and hum of the people around him. There’s something about being outside in winter that makes him feel a thousand times more awake, more alive.

It still smells like Christmas, like baked goods and spices and spruce in the space between the shops, in the puffs of happy air blown from stranger’s lips. Shuuichi wonders if the people around him can see his struggle in the way his breath curls and rises, the way it twists like soft smoke into the sky above. He wonders if they can taste the cereal he cried over this morning, the chocolate he smiled about when Kaito broke him off a piece. He tilts his head back, watches the lazy flakes of snow that have been drifting downwards all day spiral down towards him. Do the sky above know how he’s choked and cried? Does his breath tell his story, whisper pretty into the clouds?

Kokichi tug his hand. “Hey, Shuuichi-chan, we’re not there yet.” Shuuichi blinks and looks forward. He’d stopped moving?

“Sorry.” He takes a step towards Kokichi, who’s still giving him a funny look. “I was thinking.”

“About what?” Kokichi starts moving forward again, his head tilted back to look at Shuuichi.

“Just... Do you ever wonder if people can tell what you’re thinking? If they can just... know?” Shuuichi doesn’t know where he’s going with this.

“I don’t care what people think of me, so nope!” Kokichi pops hi slips as he says the last word, and it echoes through the air around them. “How come you’re worried about that, anyway?”

“I’m not worried about it,” Shuuichi says, wondering if he’s telling the truth or not. “Everyone always seems to know when I’m upset, though.”

“Hmm, well.” Kokichi looks forward again, his shoulders shifting his scarf when he shrugs. “I’m a master at reading people. As for everyone else, you’re kind of an open book, Shuuichi-chan.”

“I am?” Shuuichi can hear the surprise in his voice, answering his own question.

“Mhm!” Kokichi nods as they turn a corner. “You’re a liar, but your body language always tells the truth. I’m sure everyone else is only noticing subconsciously, but you’re honest in some ways, at least.”

“Oh.” Shuuichi lets his feet drag for the next couple of steps, scuffing the thin layer of dirty snow.

“It’s not a bad thing, Shuuichi-chan. You know I hate liars.”

“Do you hate me? For lying?” Shuuichi doesn’t realize he’s asked until the question leaves his lips. His rib feel the tiniest bit tighter, his voice the tiniest bit smaller.

Kokichi doesn’t look back at him, but Shuuichi can feel him squeeze his hand. “No. I could never hate you, Shuuichi-chan.”

“That's a lie, isn't it?” Shuuichi hates himself for not being able to trust it. He hates himself for even asking Kokichi this in the first place.

“Mm, well, I suppose there's things anyone could do to make me hate them,” Kokichi sighs, and Shuuichi can see his breath in front of him, a tiny crystalline fog. “But the way I see it, you weren't really lying.”

“What?” Shuuichi shakes his head even though Kokichi's not looking at him. “I was definitely--”

“Were you lying? Or did you believe the things you were saying?” Kokichi stops, turning to face him. “It doesn't matter, because I don't hate my beloved Shuuichi-chan, and he's not trying to lie anymore.” He pauses. “Right?”

“Right.” Shuuichi swallows, looks at the slushy ground instead of Kokichi's serious face. “Sorry.”

“It's okay, but only if you pay for the drinks~!” Kokichi turns forward again, practically skipping down the sidewalk. “Did you know that soda is the greatest human invention?”

“Uh... I can think of a few better things.”

Kokichi giggles. “Those were made by aliens, obviously. Jeez Shuuichi-chan, you'd think you would be able to figure that one out on your own.”

“Aliens, Kokichi-kun?” Shuuichi tries to get into the conversation, but his mind is still on the one they just left. “Somehow I doubt that...”

“Well,” Kokichi says, swinging their linked arms. “Just because you don't believe it doesn't mean it isn't true!” He stops in front of a store, glancing back at Shuuichi.

“Is this the place?” Shuuichi usually goes to a different shop, one closer to campus, but he's not going to protest if Kokichi would rather go to this one.

“Yup!” Kokichi pushes the door open with his free hand, a bell chiming softly above them. Shuuichi sucks in a breath of the warm, heated air as the yellow lights wash over him.

Kokichi seems to know exactly where he's going because he leads Shuuichi straight to a cooler lined with colorful bottles. He lets go of Shuuichi's hand and opens it, plucking two dark purple bottles out and tucking them under his arm. Shuuichi realizes that the liquid inside is the exact same color as Kokichi's hair.

Kokichi prances past Shuuichi, dumping the bottles onto the counter in front of an older woman with long, braided hair. “Just these, miss! My boyfriend's paying, though.”

The lady looks at Shuuichi and squints. “Do you know Ouma?”

Shuuichi blinks. “A-Ah, yes... we're dating.” He feels anxiety start to prickle in his chest before the woman grins and laughs, scanning the bottles without looking.

“I gotta check, y’know. This boy has tried that with about six strangers since the year started.” She shakes her head. “Told me a different name every time, too. I only figured out the real one when I bribed him with pop.”

Shuuichi laughs, rubbing the side of his head. “Yeah, that's Kokichi-kun, alright...” He sticks his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, opening it. “Here...”

The woman shakes her head. “No, don't worry about it. Merry Christmas.” She pushes the sodas towards them, and Kokichi whisks them off the table while Shuuichi stares in surprise.

“Thanks, miss! If I knew Shuuichi-chan meant free drinks, I'd have brought him a lot sooner.” His voice is playful, and he winks at Shuuichi when he catches his eye.

“Oh, they're not free.” The lady chuckles, drumming her fingers against the counter top. “Shuuichi-san is going to come by later and tell me some true things about you.”

Kokichi sticks his tongue out at her. “That's cheating!”

She just laughs. “Get out of here, you gremlin. Stay warm.”

Kokichi snickers, and he grabs Shuuichi’s hand as he turns to head out the door. “Whatever, hag!”

“Thank you!” Shuuichi calls after her as he’s dragged out the door and back into the cold. “Do you go there a lot?”

“Yup!” Kokichi’s steps are bouncy, light. “Her panta is the cheapest, and that’s the only reason why.”

Shuuichi chuckles, taking a longer step forward so he can walk besides Kokichi instead of behind him like he had been. “Is that so?”

“Definitely! I don’t lie, you know!”

--

Shuuichi hasn’t even finished taking his shoes off before Kokichi’s dashing off into his bedroom, sighing loudly.

“Shuuichi-chan~! You’re too slow!” He yells loudly enough that Shuuichi’s sure his neighbors can hear through the thin walls of the dorms.

“Sorry, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi decides not to bother taking off his socks, instead hurrying after Kokichi before he messes anything up. Inside Shuuichi’s room, he’s sprawled out on top of the bed, belly down and gigging. Shuuichi shakes his head and sits down on the floor, carpet scrunching between his fingers.

“Soooooo, what do you want to watch?” Kokichi’s hand brushes the top of Shuuichi’s head, startling him. He almost jerks away in his surprise, but he stops when Kokichi’s fingers start to card through his hair gently.

“Um...” Shuuichi leans back against the bed so Kokichi can reach him more easily. “I’m fine with anything, but you know I prefer mysteries.” Kokichi’s hand rests gently on the top of his head.

“Hmm, I’ve never seen Sherlock. Is it any good?” Kokichi is probably lying about that, but Shuuichi doesn’t really care.

“It’s alright. It’s also on Netflix, which is convenient for us. Here,” Shuuichi stands up, missing Kokichi’s hand the second it’s gone. “I’ll get it set up.” He opens his laptop where it’s resting on his desk, typing in his passcode and clicking on Chrome.

“So, if you’re a detective, who’s your Watson? Kaito-chan?” Kokichi’s voice is sing song and light.

“I guess...” Shuuichi logs into Netflix, typing Sherlock into the search bar. “Wait, who would that make you?”

“The bad guy, obviously!” Kokichi cackles, and Shuuichi doesn’t have to look back to know he’s grinning. “Duh, Shuuichi-chan! Even Kaito-chan could have figured that one out.”

Shuuichi shakes his head and walks back to the bed, the music of the show playing behind him. He starts to sit down on the floor again, but Kokichi’s hand reaches out and grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Nope. You’re cuddling with me and we’re drinking panta.” Kokichi tugs on his shirt, and Shuuichi looks at him. There’s not a lot of space to sit on the bed, but Shuuichi gingerly sits on the edge. In in instant, Kokichi flips over and scoots so that he’s sitting fairly normally to Shuuichi’s left.

“Y’know, Shuuichi-chan,this normally works better if you’re close to me.” Kokichi wiggles from his spot, and Shuuichi blinks before scooting back and to the side, positioning himself as close to Kokichi as he can without sitting on the other boy’s lap. Kokichi grins, leaning on him.

“Is this good?” Shuuichi shifts again slightly.

“Sure! I’m going to start cuddling you, so~!” Kokichi, true to his words, wraps his arms around Shuuichi’s torso and presses his head to his chest. His hair tickles the edge of Shuuichi’s bare skin at his collar, and Shuuichi can feel heat rising to his face. Shuuichi gently sets an arm on Kokichi’s back, starting to rub slow circles through the fabric. He can feel his boyfriend’s giggle through his chest, bubbly and soft.

“Hey, um, Kokichi-kun?” Shuuichi forces himself not to let his nervousness show in his face.

“Hmm?” Kokichi peers up at him, purple eyes wide and curious.

“You’re really cute.” Shuuichi doesn't look away, and it’s totally worth it to see the faint blush grow on Kokichi’s cheeks.

“Shuuichi-chan’s being mushy gushy cause he wants to get in my pants.” Kokichi sighs, nuzzling his face into Shuuichi. “Not that I’d be opposed~.”

“Ah, let’s just cuddle...” Shuuichi swallows. “I’m kind of tired.”

Kokichi hums. “That’s okay with me, too! But you gotta drink some panta either way, for me!” He reaches over, his arm at what looks like an awkward angle as he blindly feels for the bottle. Shuuichi’s about to let go of him and try to grab it himself, but Kokichi snatches it up. He hands the cold bottle, dripping with condensation to Shuuichi, who holds it like it’s a nuclear bomb. It may as well be, given the speed his heart is suddenly beating at.

“K-Kokichi--”

“Nope.” Kokichi looks up at him, still wrapped around Shuuichi’s torso. “You’re going to take three deep breaths, then you’re going to open the bottle and take a sip and everything will be fine. Nothing bad is gonna happen if you drink a soda, and that’s not a lie.”

“R-right.” Shuuichi forces a long, slow inhale, then breathes out. He can feel Kokichi nodding against his chest when he breathes in a second time, the tension in his throat uncoiling the slightest bit. He sucks in one more measured breath, then twists the top off of his drink.

He swears that the smell is strong enough to fill the entire room, a heady, sickly sweet grape. Shuuichi vaguely registers that Kokichi’s bedroom bears the exact same smell. The liquid inside bubbles and fizzes, purple and violet and bruised black, popping and crackling almost inaudibly. Shuuichi presses the line of cool plastic to his bottom lip and tilts his head back. The panta tastes like electricity and Kokichi’s eyes when he lies, and it burns going down. Shuuichi resists the urge to choke, screwing the lid back on the bottle and squeezing his eyes shut. The sugar-sweet lingers in his mouth, and he finds himself desperately wishing he wasn’t so upset over one sip of soda. It’s surely less calories than the apple and beef stew he had for lunch, so why was that easier? Why does this make him feel like he’s back at the beginning, like one drop of violet sugar is going to topple him over and send him into a spiralling oblivion?

“Shuuichi-chan.” Kokichi’s face is blank and clam looking up at him. “I can hear your heart going crazy, y’know.”

Shuuichi swallows, then regrets it because he can still taste the grape. He should go wash his mouth out, probably. “S-sorry, I... I’m gonna--” Shuuichi waves a hand and starts to stand up, but Kokichi stays firmly anchored to his lap.

“Uh, nope. I have absolutely no idea what you’re about to try and do,” Kokichi pauses, and Shuuichi catches the lie even around his anxiety. “But you’re not going anywhere. Keep breathing, Shuuichi-chan.”

Shuuichi nods, shaky and unbalanced, but he manages a deep breath. The warmth of his boyfriend on hi slap is grounding, centering, and he focuses on just matching his breaths to Kokichi’s. He can taste the purple in the air, sense it in his belly, but he does his best to just keep all of his mind focused on the sensation of his breath, the weight of his body against the bed. Slowly, his heart stops racing in his chest, and he feels himself begin to unwind.

“Um, Kokichi-kun?” Shuuichi thinks now’s the time to say it, even though he’s only been considering it and the very thought still makes him shake. It’s obvious he needs it, obvious in how he tired so easily in town with Kokichi earlier, obvious in how he’s still really not used to eating.

“Hmm?” Kokichi’s voice hints at disinterest, but as Shuuichi slowly stops shaking, he notices the obvious concern in the furrow of Kokichi’s brow. He must think his face is hidden.

“I um... I’ve been think about maybe gaining some weight.” Shuuichi lets out a long sigh, uneven and weak. “Sorry, I know it sounds stupid when I can’t even drink a soda, but--”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” Kokichi’s voice is soft, low. “It’s a good idea. I’m proud of you.” Shuuichi can hear the honesty, and he wonders if he may not be the only one who’s come a long way.

“Thank you,” Shuuichi takes a deep breath, this one less forced than the ones before it. “I’ve looked at some meal plans online, and I was thinking I’d follow one of those?”

Kokichi nods against his chest. “Yeah! I can draw dicks all over it when we print it out. But for now, we’re gonna be gay and you’re gonna drink all of that panta and it’s gonna be okay, right, Shuuichi-chan?”

Shuuichi chuckles and pulls Kokichi closer. “Right.”

--

1/1

--

“I think you’re supposed to kiss someone when it hits midnight, Kaito-chan!” Kokichi twirls around, the starlight barely illuminating his dark form. “How are you gonna do that when you’re out here with just me and Shuuichi-chan?”

“Akamatsu and Harumaki are coming too!” Kaito folds his arms over his chest, mock glaring at Kokichi.

“That doesn’t answer my question! I know they don’t want to kiss you.” Kokichi looks over at Shuuichi, walking backwards along the lawn. “Hey, Shuuichi-chan, would you kiss Kaito-chan? If he said pretty please?”

“Kokichi-kun...” Shuuichi sighs. “What do you even want me to say to that...?”

“See, Kaito-chan? That’s a big fat no~!” Kokichi sticks his tongue out at Kaito, who promptly groans.

“Maybe I’ll kiss you, since you seem to be so disgusted by the idea of me kissing anyone, f*cking brat.” Kaito grits his teeth together in a way that looks painful to Shuuichi.

“Oooh, Shuuichi-chan, Kaito-chan’s trying to steal me from you~! What aer you gonna do about it? Are you going to beat him up?” Kokichi jumps up and down. “Huh? Huh?”

“I’m not going to beat him up, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi sighs. “I think this is a good spot. I hope the others show up soon though, or they’ll miss it...”

Kaito plops down onto the grass, and Kokichi does the same with a giggle as Shuuichi gently lowers himself down. “I dunno, Harumaki didn’t seem that excited about hanging out with us... What time is it anyway?” Kaito pulls out his phone, the light glaringly bright in the darkness. “Yeah, I think it’s just gonna be us three.”

“Aw, Harukawa-chan and Akamatsu-chan are gonna go make out! How does it feel knowing you’re not gonna get annnny love tonight, Kaito-chan?” Kokichi teeth glint in his smile.

“Shut up, Kokichi. I have you two, don’t I? Friends still love each other.” Kaito’s voice is a low grumble.

“I think we all care about each other, Kokichi-kun.” Shuuichi stretches his legs out in front of him. “Let’s talk about something else, so the last thing we do this year isn’t argue.”

“I was just playing!” Kokichi laughs, bright and loud in the quiet of the field. “But, we should probably talk about our resolutions, huh?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea! I wanna get all A’s next year.” Kaito grins almost as wide as Kokichi. “I need to shape up if I’m going to get into astronaut training.”

“Hmm, that’s boring, but it suits you!” Kokichi puts his hands up behind his ears. “I wanna keep being as awful and mean as I was this year~!” He snickers, but Shuuichi wonders if that’s the truth. He thinks about the way Kokichi treats him, soft and sweet when he needs it, happy and bright when he needs that. Shuuichi’s sure Kaito notices the truth in Kokichi’s lie too, because his grin melts into something soft and sweet as fireworks explode above them, silver and gold and red.

Kokichi leans forward, his lips brushing Shuuichi’s gently, softly, before he pulls back. Shuuichi watches with a stupid grin on his face as Kokichi blows Kaito a kiss.

“There you go! Now you won’t be forever alone, Kaito-chan!” Kokichi winks at him, his face glowing multicolored in the bursts of fiery light.

Kaito rolls his eyes, even though Shuuichi’s pretty sure he’s blushing. “Whatever, thanks I guess.” He turns to Shuuichi, smiling. “What about you, bro? Do you have a resolution?”

“Yeah,” Shuuichi nods, looking up at the sky above him. The red and gold streaks across the sky, painting it pretty and shining. He thinks he can see faint lines of colorful smoke rising off of the glowing embers, disappearing into the sky as the fireworks fade, only to be replaced by another.

“I don’t want to have to lie anymore.”