𝟚𝟞 - It was Assault, It was You. ♣️

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˜*°•.Chapter Warning.•°*˜

Suicide.
Domestic abuse.
Emotional/Mental abuse.

˜*°•.˜*°• •°*˜.•°*˜

Rantaro sighed as he stared at passing trees through the car window. He and Shuichi had taken a trip to one of Rantaro's twelve sisters' houses, the sister that'd been murdered in cold blood. Due to the homicide case being under investigation, Shuichi had accompanied Rantaro since he was a detective. Although it was a conflict of interest due to Shuichi and Rantaro being in a relationship, the bluenette had gotten away with investigating.

Unfortunately, the manner of the trip meant their other boyfriend, Kokichi, couldn't join them. Rantaro had always worried about the purplette being alone, Kokichi was a dependent person. Too dependent. He couldn't do anything with Rantaro or Shuichi at all, he'd have a meltdown without them. Sometimes though, Kokichi would panic and have a meltdown even though Rantaro was nearby.

Although, Kokichi used to be the complete opposite of his current personality. When the two had met him, Kokichi despised relying on people and preferred doing everyone on his own, even stuff that would be impossible. Now, he couldn't leave Shuichi's side.

Rantaro sniffled and wiped his tears, refusing to let them fall. Rain pattered against the windscreen from the dark sky as Shuichi continued the drive, close to home. The greenette noticed Shuichi's golden eyes flick to stare at him for a moment. "It happens Rantaro," Shuichi mumbled. Despite the harsh words, Rantaro convinced himself that the bluenette meant only the best for his loved ones.

Pulling into the garage, Rantaro released a deep breath as he slammed the car door shut. The two entered the home and locked up as they prepared themselves for bed. However, something seemed odd to the greenette. "Where's Kokichi?"

"Hmm? How should I know?" Shuichi groaned.

"Kokichi?!" Rantaro called, cupping his hands beside his mouth to call for his grey-haired boyfriend. He continued to holler to the male, growing more concerned with every passing second as his calls remained unanswered.

"Shut up, will you? He's probably asleep." Shuichi rolled his eyes as he gently slapped Rantaro's shoulder as he walked further into the home.

"No, something's wrong. He should've answered and you know he doesn't sleep without us," Rantaro argued.

"He's being an attention whore," Shuichi argued back.

"Why wouldn't he be here snuggling into you like he usually does when we're away for the day?" Rantaro asked with an eyebrow raised. "Look, I didn't tell you this but he texted me something odd this morning," he sighed. Pulling out his phone, Rantaro read the text out loud that he received on the two-day trip. "I love you, I'm sorry."

"He sent me the same thing, calm down Rantaro. All it means is that he missed us, grow up and get over it," Shuichi snapped.

Rantaro's gaze hardened into a glare as his green eyes narrowed. "You can be a real dick sometimes Shuichi," he huffed. It wasn't abnormal for the two to argue lately, they'd been at each other's throats whenever Kokichi wasn't around to hear them. Despite the two growing out of love, they didn't want Kokichi to know until they could fix the relationship themselves. In reality, Rantaro hated the person Shuichi had become. He'd fallen in love with the shy, awkward bluenette he met in high school, not the controlling, manipulative asshole he'd become.

Storming off, Rantaro decided to shut himself in their shared bedroom where he assumed Kokichi could be sleeping. He wasn't wrong, per se. Entering the room, Rantaro's blood ran cold and shut down all of his senses. Kokichi's body held a handgun as dried blood soaked into the carpet around his head, the corpse lying at the foot of the large bed.

Kokichi committed suicide.

Tears poured down Rantaro's cheeks as he silently wept, his throat stinging since he'd been sobbing for two days straight. Staring blankly at the corpse, Rantaro reached out to brush his fingertips against Kokichi's cold porcelain skin. Glancing at the out-of-place objects nearby, Rantaro noticed a note propped up against Kokichi's sneakers.

The world ran in slow motion as he picked it up, opening it to read the last letter Kokichi ever wrote. Reading through blurry eyes, Rantaro continued to weep and tremble before a particular paragraph made his blood boil.

'Shuichi left me. He said he'd never leave me. I can't live on my own, not without Shuichi. Rantaro, I love you too with all my heart but without Shuichi, I can't function, he tells me when to eat and sleep, when to be happy and sad.'

It was at that moment that Rantaro decided to open his eyes to the truth. Shuichi is abusive, Shuichi killed Kokichi. He'd been manipulating and gaslighting the two, controlling their every move and breath. On one hand, Rantaro had fought back and argued when the two were in private, but on the other hand, Kokichi buckled under the possibility of losing a loved one.

"Come here Shuichi..." Rantaro whispered, his arm dropping limply beside him as the note fluttered to the ground. "Hey, Shuichi, please!" His voice rose and became more desperate as he slowly regained his ability to think. "SHUICHI!" He screamed, scrambling to his feet as he kept his gaze locked on Kokichi's faint smile.

Hearing a groan, thumps grew closer as Shuichi appeared behind him. He didn't say anything, instead only pushing Rantaro to the side as Shuichi picked up the note. Rantaro watched in hatred as Shuichi skimmed the note and rolled his eyes, crumbling the paper into a small ball in his hand and chucking it over his shoulder. "He was weaker than I thought. Why'd he have to use my gun?"

"Excuse me?! None of this is his fault! It's not suicide," Rantaro spat, attempting not to shout.

"Then what was it? Who killed him?" Shuichi huffed with a smirk.

"It was assault, it was you."

"Don't you dare blame this on me. The gun is right there, I'll turn this into a murder-suicide," Shuichi threatened.

"You're fucking sick. Fucking cunt," Rantaro spat on the male. As Shuichi grimaced in disgust, Rantaro clenched his fist and punched the other's nose, satisfied by the cracking noise. He turned and left the bedroom, pulling out his phone to dial the emergency number.

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