Ghost in the Closet

My Last Mission

Sitting on Saihara's bed, the new couple should've been spending their joyful honeymoon phase together. This was anything but happy and sweet. Ouma stammered and stuttered over every word; he would've run out of every tear in his body if he could cry. Saihara didn't know what to do. He couldn't rub circles on his back as Akamatsu did to him.

"Ouma-" He began, wanting to verbally comfort the ghost.

"Call me Kokichi, for fuck's sake!" Ouma cried as he buried his face further into his hands. Anything Saihara said seemed to upset him. Even if Ouma said something positive, it came out in an angry shout.

"Kokichi," Saihara corrected. "Breathe and calm down, okay?" The ghost's head snapped up, glaring at his human boyfriend before calming. Nodding, Ouma took a few deep breaths as his visible turmoil lightened.

It fell quiet again before Ouma spoke. "I'm not good at telling the truth..." He whispered.

Saihara shifted closer, their thighs merging. "Do you want to start by telling me why?"

Ouma turned and faced his body to the human whilst continuing to stare at the blank wall. "Well, from a young age, I figured out that lying would get me out of trouble. It meant I was safe... No one would hurt me anymore if I pretended to be good." He stopped to take a few shaky breaths before continuing. "Eventually, I realised that outrageous lies would confuse people enough for them to stop bullying me. Telling the truth is scary and dangerous..."

He didn't know what to say. Saihara assumed there would be some trauma there, but Ouma's explanation left so many questions. Whatever, they had an eternity to talk. "Besides," Ouma laughed as he filled the silence. "There are endless possibilities for lies! You can make any reality you want!"

"I understand," Saihara whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know." He reached out to grab Ouma's shoulder but soon realised his mistake and retracted it.

Ouma floated from the bed and stretched out as if he were standing on air. Well, he was. "Maybe-" Sighing, the ghost clutched his black and white checkered scarf. Come to think of it, Saihara never saw Ouma without it. He never saw Ouma in anything other than a white uniform similar to a waiter. Perhaps he died in it? "-I could show you first..." The ghost continued.

The scarf flickered like Ouma's ghost body as it crumpled in the man's fist. Saihara stared at his exposed sternum. He glimpsed the bloody, beige bone behind a jagged hole. "Is that how you died?"

"Not exactly..." Ouma muttered. He glanced down and poked the hole, flesh squishing beneath each touch. "It's why I couldn't fight back; considering the blood loss and all." The ghost continued to toy with the flaps of skin dangling around the bloody wound. "They tied me up as I died so I couldn't escape. I became too annoying by moaning and crying by the end of it." Frowning, Ouma replaced his scarf and gripped the hem of his shirt.

Saihara didn't move as Ouma steeled himself. He wanted the ghost to take his time and remain comfortable around him. It took a minute, but the ghost yanked his shirt up and revealed another... injury.

He had a hole in his abdomen.

Not even any abdominal organs remained. There was nothing there, just a hole; like he was empty. "This is why I don't eat," Ouma muttered. "I can taste things, but the food will kind of just... fall out of my body..."

Saihara stopped listening when he analysed the wound, his blood boiling. "It's clean," he seethed.

Ouma blinked, expression blank. "Huh? Why is that your focus?"

"Your injury is clean," Saihara repeated. His eyes narrowed in a deadly glare as he bore a second hole through his boyfriend's stomach. "It doesn't look like something done in the heat of the moment." Who the fuck had the right to torture and mutilate such a sweet, amazing man? Saihara would make them pay if it was the last thing he did.