true death is only sweeter - saiouma

captured memories

Shuichi's heart beat fast, fast, fast.

Asleep in his arms, Kokichi looked perfectly serene. It was almost unfair. The boy had upended everything, revealed what he'd done. And then. And then he'd kissed Shuichi, oblivious to the side effects that might have. Emotions too complicated for Shuichi to understand. Strong and strange and powerful and familiar.

Even now, just gazing at Kokichi's sleeping face, Shuichi felt an unmistakable ache in his chest, like a yearning for something he'd never known. He smoothed the hair from the smaller boy's forehead, soft strands, deep purple like the evening sky.

Glancing out the window, Shuichi sighed. The sky was pitch-black. To be fair, he wasn't lying when he told Kokichi it had been a long day. He could hardly believe the roller coaster of feelings he'd felt over the past few hours.

Yes, Kokichi had the right idea. Time to sleep.

Shuichi scooped Kokichi's feet out from under him, not earning so much as a murmur from him. He was out cold, mouth slightly parted in sleep. Though Kokichi didn't exactly appear threatening when awake, he seemed even younger in sleep, Shuichi noted affectionately. Like just another teenager, falling asleep after a long day. Like just another teenager, in a normal situation, with all his friends happy and healthy. Maybe in another life, the two of them could've met at school or something. Well, normal school, not Hope's Peak. Maybe they could've all been friends, the class of V3. Shuichi knew it was impossible, that they'd come from all over the world and there was no way any of them could've known each other before the killing game, but it was nice to imagine spending afternoons studying with his friends, partying with the group, maybe even going on dates with Kokichi, once they got to know each other.

Shuichi knew it was a luxury to be able to dream like this.

He knew he was the only one whose nightmares were but imaginations, echoes of something he couldn't recall.

He knew he was lucky to be able to see through the layers of trauma and horror that coated every one of them.

He knew it wasn't fair that he'd lost his memories.

Selfishly, cruelly, he might never trade it if given the chance.

Or at least, so he'd thought to himself.

But who was this Kokichi? What had they been to each other? Was it worth facing his past, if Kokichi might be in it? Sweet Kokichi, hated by everyone, yet struggling with the same terrors as them. If anyone, they should all hate Shuichi, for getting off scot-free.

Did Kokichi hate him?

The question scared Shuichi, startling him out of his reverie. He realized he was still holding Kokichi in his arms, warm, scarily light, chest rising and falling slowly, head tucked towards Shuichi. The same nostalgic feeling rose within him at the sight. A warm cracking of his ribs, heart nearly jumping out of him. Unfortunately, Shuichi's arms were beginning to twinge with pain.

He walked speedily out of the room they were in, pushing open the door with his foot, and made his way down the hall back to his room, earning a strange look from the secretary at the main desk.

Shuichi's face greeted him. Shuichi Saihara, it said. Danganronpa victim, it said. Amnesia, it said. And there it was, the sum of his life. Nothing but a few words on a clipboard, and behind them, medical jargon.

The door was open, luckily, and Shuichi slipped inside, walking over to the bed and laying Kokichi down, as gently as he could. He pulled the covers up around the boy, who lay on his side, quickly curling almost into the fetal position unconsciously. Shuichi's heart ached at the sight. He didn't deserve to be used to being alone.