Little Do You Know

With Blood, Comes Disaster

The box clanged as it disappeared into the large dumpster. Kokichi continued into the dorms, the dumpster lid thudding as it crashed shut. He reached his bedroom, cheeks cold from tears as he slammed the door.

Kokichi slammed his back into the door, sliding onto the floor as he sobbed into his hands. Everything felt numb, his limbs trembled and a layer of grime ghosted his skin. It felt disgusting to be stalked by Sasaki, especially since the man had explored every inch of Kokichi's body. Trapped and hunted like prey, Kokichi felt his sanity slowly depleting. Each time he recovered, another incident occurred to break him down again.

Crawling to his shaky feet, Kokichi dropped his bag and stumbled into the bathroom. The door swung shut behind him, trapping the man in the room until he completed the task. Kokichi wouldn't leave until he could feel his body - the body he should be in control of and the body he should cherish.

He dropped to his knees, swinging open the white cabinet. His gaze flicked to a small, ugly, zebra-print pack. Saihara encountered it in their shared bathroom and asked Kokichi its purpose when the latter hurriedly snatched it. Admittedly, he acted so suspicious that Saihara knew something was wrong with it. The detective would never peek inside without Kokichi's permission, but due to his ultimate talent, he was known to be inquisitive. Kokichi couldn't take any chances.

When Saihara asked questions, Kokichi said it was for his eyedrops and various eye care products. It was only a half-truth. Kokichi started keeping his eyedrops there after his lie so the detective wouldn't become more suspicious.

Opening the zipper, Kokichi pulled out a craft knife with brown stains and crusted blood on the blade. He never cleaned it properly since, usually, he'd be too tired. If he suffered an infection, hopefully, it'd kill him.

Leaning against the wall, Kokichi shuffled his pants down to his knees, revealing his obnoxious red and yellow striped boxers. He chuckled slightly, staring at the colours. Something about it made him warm and fuzzy when he could be childish.

Kokichi's eyes flicked to his thigh. Pink, white and red lines called for attention against his snow-white skin. He sighed, uncapping the blade. His uniform was white so his blood would show through when he dressed. Oh well, it wasn't like he planned to return to class or leave the bathroom.

The blade sliced through his thigh like tightly-packed sand. Dots of blood seeped from the wounds, growing large enough for gravity to take effect. Kokichi created cut after cut, slice after slice. It stung, but that was the point. He deserved the pain, he deserved the punishment. What he was punishing himself for, he couldn't remember - all he knew was that it had to be done.

He filled the small area on his thigh, one that he refused to leave in case his work outfits would reveal them. His eyes flicked over each wound leaking red and clear, off-white liquid. Kokichi didn't feel like it was enough, he couldn't stop there. It wasn't like his other thigh was an option since that was the thigh he showed his mum to 'prove' he wasn't hurting himself anymore.

Bunching his sleeves around his elbows, Kokichi stared at his wrists that matched his thigh. Through tear-filled eyes, he carved fresh lines into his skin. Each cut brought a faint amount of pain that Kokichi appreciated.

He stared at his body covered in sticky and slick blood. The floor beneath him was littered with deep red spots. Slamming his head back, Kokichi sobbed as the knife clattered to the ground. His head spun as he let his eyes flutter closed.

.·:*¨💜༺ ༻💙¨*:·.

Repeated thumps filled Kokichi's ears, making him groan as he pushed himself away from the cold tiles. He glanced around and noticed blood had dripped from his arms and thigh, the deep crimson film cracking with each movement. That's when his brain finally woke up, realising the repetitive thumps meant someone was at the door.

Tugging his clothes back into place, Kokichi frowned. Tapping the blood on his arms, he hummed upon realising it was bone dry. Just how long had he been asleep? Had it been long enough for Saihara to come home to find him? The detective would've ignored the boy, who wouldn't?

Packing away his knife and bag, the boy hurried to wash away any visible blood on his hands. He grabbed a small hand towel, wetting it to clean the floor. Checking his appearance in the mirror, Kokichi grimaced at the sight. His naturally purple eye was dull, eyes bloodshot and red. Tears stained his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Kokichi wiped away the mess, making his skin red with the rubbing of his sleeve.

Leaving the bathroom, Kokichi took a deep breath and opened the door. "Oh thank fuck!" Iruma shouted, sighing loudly as she bowed her head. "I thought you'd been fucking kidnapped or some shit!" Kokichi hummed in response, not yet back to maintaining his usual mask. He'd run from the detention room with Iruma, telling the woman that he wanted some time alone as an excuse to cry in his dorm. "Woah," she gasped as she raised her head to look at him. "You look like you've seen death."

Sighing, Kokichi rubbed his right eye. "I was sleeping. What do you want?" He mumbled.

"Gotta take your sorry ass back to class."

"No," Kokichi huffed. He turned toward the room, ready to let the door slam in Iruma's face. Unfortunately, the woman stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"I'm not asking," Iruma argued.

"Don't care."

"Come on, Shit-Dick!" Iruma laughed at her insult before lowering her voice to a comforting whisper. "It's safer than being alone."

Kokichi glanced at her, then at the door behind her. Sasaki knew more about him than he'd realised and had already visited the dorms. Maybe he should always try to be around someone, for safety reasons. It wasn't like someone would betray him. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'm doing this because I want to though, it doesn't mean you're right."

The dorms were created for their safety, but Kokichi didn't feel secure anymore. No matter where he went, there was the chance that a sick old man was watching, waiting for the right moment to drag him into a dark alley to 'play'.

Grabbing his bag, he swung it over his shoulder and followed Iruma toward the academy. They walked in silence, the rustling bushes and trees being the lone source of noise around them. Kokichi hurried to message his mum, telling her about Sasaki's gift. She had made him promise that he'd do this after the last incident and promised to reply as soon as possible so he didn't think she was ignoring him.

Eventually, the two reached their classroom. Kokichi refused to acknowledge the people staring at him as he hurried to his desk. He stared out of the window at the Japanese Maple standing tall. Yamamoto-Sensei greeted him before continuing the lesson, but Kokichi didn't focus on that, or anything.

His gaze flicked to the flower sitting atop Shirogane's desk. A faint brown hue adorned the edges of the white petals. The chrysanthemum now wilted, leaning over the edge of the vase. Maybe he should revitalise it and the memory of Shirogane along with it. Would Yamamoto-Sensei even allow it? Tomorrow, that was something that could wait until tomorrow.

Yamamoto-Sensei approached Iruma's desk, slipping her a sheet of paper before handing an identical sheet to Kokichi as well. He glared at it, resisting the urge to slam his head into the table. Japanese. His worst subject. It wasn't like he had appalling grades but they were far from acceptable, they weren't even average.

There wasn't even a point in trying to finish it. He'd fail regardless. Kokichi couldn't read the words on the page, there were so many that everything merged into a large swirl of pain. He could sit there with a highlighter and pick apart every word until it made sense, but that'd take hours with his mental state.

Glancing aimlessly around the room, his eyes landed on the back of Saihara's head. He was... talking with Akamatsu? The two top students in class, the two people least likely to break the rules, were talking in class. Kokichi frowned, trying to read their expressions without being conspicuous. Akamatsu was the only one he could see, but her worried and sad frown said it all.

Kokichi chuckled, returning to the paper and doodling small flowers in the corner. Seemed like not everything was rainbows and sunshine. Every paradise had its trouble. Ignoring the couple, Kokichi glanced at his lap and frowned. He had something more troubling on his mind now.

Why hadn't his mum responded to his message?