true death is only sweeter - saiouma

tranquil agony

The winter air was cold.

It snapped its teeth against Kokichi's lips, like a cruel reminder of Shuichi, his beloved, a harsh ghost. Kokichi shivered, the chill running up and down his spine.

It was too early for lunch. Shuichi hadn't been allowed to eat that morning, and though Kokichi didn't mention it, he himself had been to nervous to do anything more than nibble at the edges of a slice of toast.

There wasn't much to do but go back to the apartment. The homey, cozy vibe felt small and dark without Shuichi's tender presence. If anything, it felt constricting. Kokichi told himself it was ridiculous for his own apartment to trigger his own claustrophobia, especially since he'd been working with a therapist and was getting so much better. But logic wouldn't work, and Shuichi wasn't there, and so Kokichi couldn't sleep, just stared out the window and prayed for the hours to pass as quickly as possible, yet simultaneously hoped they'd last forever in this limbo, the uncertainty of return better than the option that Shuichi wouldn't.

The sky brightened to brilliant robin's egg blue, then faded back to grey and overcast in the afternoon, all the way up to bruised purple as the evening set in. Kokichi realized he'd spent the entire day on the couch, wearing Shuichi's sweatshirt and inhaling his scent, chasing sleep that never came. Time to head to the hospital, he supposed. Normally, of course, he'd wait in the waiting room all day for the surgery to finish, but the doctors had told him there'd be no point, since the surgery was so long, and didn't he have better things to do, besides? Kokichi had lied, said, of course, he was very busy, he would never spend an entire day on anxious apprehension, that would be ridiculous and entirely unlike him.

The walk to the hospital was even colder in the night air. It was like the city became alive, a freezing beast with snowy breath, glittering with all the malevolence of a thousand icicles. Kokichi hoped Shuichi wasn't cold during his surgery.

The woman at the front desk nodded to him. "Floor 3, room 39."

Kokichi nodded silently in thanks. He had no idea how she managed to keep everyone's names. Especially people like him, who weren't returning patients or staff or anything. It was incredible. If she were in Danganronpa— as strange as the thought was— she'd be an asset for sure. Ultimate Secretary, maybe? Thoughts like that always make Kokichi a little bit uncomfortable, and he knew Shuichi tried his best to avoid any sort of joking around the subject, since it was difficult to straddle the line between funny and disrespectful, especially for Shuichi and his situation. Kokichi, though, had been able to reconnect with a few of his classmates, apologize to Gonta, and sit through an incredibly awkward forced apology from Kaede, mediated by Shuichi, of course.

Kokichi found his way to the staircase. Naturally, the hospital was nearly as cold as the air outside, and the stony staircase was no exception. The metal handrail was almost painful.

After a few minutes of wandering through the hallway, Kokichi found room 39.

He took a deep breath.

This was it.

Brace yourself, Kokichi.

This was the deciding moment. The tipping point. Where his life split off into two paths: the one where Shuichi still loved him, where they wake up every morning in each other's arms, laugh and go on dates and think about what they might someday name their kids; and the one where everything was messed up, their new, fragile life crumbled and thrown away, all the what-ifs in Kokichi' mind spiraling out into reality, unfurling like the leaves of a deadly nightshade, poisoning everything in his life until Kokichi was left with nothing but pain and sadness and loneliness and the edge of a building.