A Mistake [Danganronpa Fanfic]

Chapter 7

The atmosphere in the room had completely shifted from awkward silences and short questions to a long stare and a gentle smile. Chihiro released his breath that he had been holding the entire kiss, his little fingers pressed against his budding cheeks. His tears had dried and he just stared, his hazel eyes wavering in desire and comfort. Mondo lingered with his forehead pressed against the other boy's, his eyes shut tight and his body shaking lightly. The same way it did when he was angry, but trying his hardest to suppress the urge to yell. "That's why it would be a problem for me," he muttered with his hands sliding briefly from Chihiro's shoulders to his neck where he brushed beneath the programmer's chin with his thumbs. "Because I really... really... like ya'."

Licking his lips briefly, Chihiro felt his heart's pace slow as he came down from the incredible high of being kissed again, and this time completely sober. It was just as confusing as the first time their lips touched, but this time he knew deep down in his gut that it wasn't just a fluke. It wasn't just an accident brought on by a night of drinking. It was intentional, and wanted, and incredible. The young boy smiled brighter than before as a wavering sigh escaped his lips. "Yeah?" he questioned, his little hands wanting to reach out and embrace the man before him. But he simply stood within the gentle touches of his fellow classmate, waiting on his next move. As happy as Chihiro was, it still seemed that Mondo was uncomfortable with his own demons.

And just as quick as it came, Mondo let go and stepped back a bit, turning away from the boy. "What am I doin'?" he grunted to himself, his fists balled in anger at his sides. Chihiro's bright smile instantly faded and his trembling fingers slipped from his cheeks, falling to his stomach. The biker began to mumble to himself, his body wavering a bit between turning around or rushing to the door. "This is fuckin' stupid," he then grunted beneath his breath, but loud enough for his small companion to hear. The blonde bit down on his lip, realizing that his foolish smiles and high hopes may have come too soon.

"It's okay..." Chihiro murmured, reaching forward to press a gentle hand along the biker's shoulder.

In the instant that his fingers made contact, Mondo whipped around and grabbed the programmer by the wrist. "It's not okay!" he shouted, his voice bellowing throughout the laundry room. Chihiro winced, the man's blind strength digging into the pale skin below his palm. "I was raised my whole life to believe I was a man... head of a biker gang, tough, mean... and now I'm falling for you?! A boy?!" His voice continued to rise in intensity and eventually Chihiro yanked his wrist away, drawing it towards his own body. He whimpered and back stepped until his body crashed into the dryer. This room, unlike their bedrooms, was not sound proof. Anyone simply passing by could hear this exchange.

"Please... don't be... so loud," he whimpered like a frightened animal, cuddling his now sore wrist against his chest. His big hazel eyes welled up with tears once more and the fear raced through him like the night of the mistake, when Mondo had yelled like he was ready to punch someone. The blonde braced himself for any angry swing, keeping his attention full and bright.

"Do you know what everyone's going to say when they find out?!" Mondo yelled, despite his classmate's timid and frightened request. His arms where thrown at his side and he thrust them towards Chihiro, which only made the boy cower back even more. "They're gonna think I'm weak! Weak cause I like another boy... and one like you, too!"

Chihiro clenched his hands tightly before his face, feeling the imprints of Mondo's fingers burn on his skin. "Please... don't," he almost whispered this time, and only because he knew Mondo was past the point of listening. The man was angry. Maybe at Chihiro, but probably at himself more than anyone. Chihiro remembered when he was young, unable to confront his own feelings. He would have temper tantrums, he would cry, toss stuff around in his room just to relieve his anger. Up until he discovered his love for computers and technology, the only way he could think to sort out his frustrations was by pitching a fit. Remembering being a child, on the play ground with his "friends", being pushed down in the dirt for being weak... Even now, as a girl, he was still seen at meek and timid. He felt his cheeks burning with anger, frustration, and disappointment. "You know what's weak?" he suddenly spoke up, tucking his hurt wrist behind his back. He was sure that as quickly as his forehead when it smacked against that counter, his skin was now bruised with the fingerprints of the biker.