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almost understanding

Summary:

kokichi has nightmares, but someone knows how to break into his room and bring him back to reality

Notes:

hiiiii!!

so this fic is part of a running au where v3 was in the neo world program and theres a couple other different bits and pieces, specifically ouma took down shuichi in a faux murder suicide thing yada yada go read the rest of the series.

takusaiou is canon in my heart (i say this like shuichi and takumi get along (they do not))

Work Text:

His lungs are burning . He’s flailing against the hand around his throat, keeping him pushed down under the waves. Screaming away the last of his air, not to be heard by anyone. Crying out tears from stinging, bloodshot eyes, never to be seen by anyone. It’s not like anyone cares anyways, he’s just a nobody. A nobody who had 3 seconds of fame for being murdered on TV and then was promptly forgotten within the month. 

 

He was supposed to be different though. He was weird, and creepy, and all kinds of off, but he seemed to like him. Emphasis on seemed, because now he’s holding him under the water, killing him with that terrifying smile on his face. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s drowning and struggling and drowning and drowning and—

 

And then everything changes. A new scene, a new way to torture him. Hiding under rubble of a dying city, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of blood. The sound of gunshots still ringing in his ears. And then there are footsteps approaching him and he freezes. Everything in him is telling him to run and hide and scream and get out, but he can’t. He covers his mouth in fear, unable to let the breath out of his lungs. He needs to escape. He can’t. He’s going to die. He needs to escape. And then. And then—

 

“Ow!” he hears a yelp from next to him, and his vision stops. The scene pauses, if only for a moment, and suddenly things are blurry. But then it begins again, because there’s no one next to him. Just the figure approaching him in his hiding spot to possibly— “…Ouma?”

 

Something’s moving him. Shaking him. Poking him and sounding very frantic about it.

 

Kokichi Ouma wakes up. Mostly. He’s still in a daze, still terrified, especially of the figure that's hovering over him shaking his arm. Which is probably why his first instinct is to jolt back against the wall and be an absolute coward in the corner. Because deep down that’s all he is. A coward.

 

Red eyes, black hair. The vague scent of blood… but. It’s different. Hair landing in different places, obscuring one of the red eyes, which. Different shade of red. His are deeper, flecks of dark pink. They look like beetle shells. And he doesn’t just smell like blood. He also smells like instant ramen, and… artificial strawberry? Like the smell of a new marshmallow squishy toy, but not as strong as candy. And it’s faint. Fainter than the ramen, fainter than the blood. But the point is that it’s still there.

 

It’s just Takumi. 

 

It’s… Takumi.

 

Takumi is in his room, on his bed.

 

Great.

 

Fantastic even.

 

His eyes are beginning to focus again, and with a deep breath Kokichi begins to calm down from his nightmares. Focus on the new problem in the room.

 

Takumi Hijirihara.

 

He had his hand reached out towards him still, with a worried look behind his eyes, even though he should not BE here. Kokichi glances to the vent at the foot of his loft, and it’s exactly as expected. Wedged open, his defensive measures have been ruined. Fantastic.

 

“Ouma… are you ok?”

 

He takes a deep breath. Collecting himself. Putting on the façade. Focusing. Because he is fine. He is fine. He’s fine. Nothing is wrong.

 

“…If you say you’re fine one more time maybe I’ll believe you,” Takumi grumbles, “You were talking in your sleep. And also thrashing. A lot.”

 

“Why were you watching me sleep, weirdo?”

 

“I wanted to keep an eye on you? And maybe talk to you when you woke up. And you’re awake now. And talking to me. So—“

 

“I’m talking to you because you were watching me sleep , and that’s creepy, Takumi.”

 

“You had a lot of stuff in your vents. Might’ve made it harder for your room to be properly ventilated… maybe that’s why you were having a rough night sleeping,” Takumi ignores, not processing Kokichi calling him creepy. Or maybe he’s just so used to it at this point it’s like static to him. Either way he stopped paying attention.

 

Kokichi has had problems with Takumi for a while. Ever since he got out of the game, Takumi has been all over him. Overly excited about the fact that he can actually talk to one of the victims. One of the “only victims who were actually able to get a score”, which. Kokichi didn’t like at all.

 

  1.  

 

That was his score.

 

He has heard the whole spiel too, about how it “could’ve been perfect” and “the motivation was just off” and “how fascinating his plan was”. And Kokichi hates it. Because Takumi likes to back him into a wall before getting too excited about his death and trying to ask more questions and pick at his brain and find out what it felt like to die. 

 

Takumi sees him as his death. And Kokichi wants nothing more than to be left alone.

 

But. Sitting in front of him, quietly worrying. It’s almost endearing. He almost gets it. He almost gets why Misaki likes him, why anyone could enjoy his presence, really. Everything is just. Off.

 

Kokichi takes another breath. 

 

“…Thanks.” 

 

Takumi tilts his head confused, like a cat. “Wh… You’re welcome?”

 

“God you’re ridiculous,” Kokichi groans and reaches forwards to pinch his cheek, “You were supposed to ask why are you thanking me, stupid! Now try that again.”

 

Takumi lets out a soft laugh before playing along, “Fine.. thanks for what then?”

 

“For waking me up. That’s all.”

 

“Oh. You’re welcome. Again, you were thrashing quite a bit.”

 

Kokichi groans again, not having let go of his cheek. Which, probably wouldn’t have been hard for Takumi to get out of and yet. He’s still letting it happen. Again, upsettingly. He’s cute. 

 

Takumi’s worried expression falls back into something more neutral as Kokichi lets him go, reaching out a hand before stopping. 

 

“I’m going back to sleep! I- uh,” he pauses his sentence before thinking about his next words, “You can. If you’re not going to be weird about it, I guess you can stay. Think of it as a reward for being so kind as to wake me up from my nightmares! I suppose you’d make a pretty good body pillow…” he then smirks, watching Takumi’s face flush. 

 

“I- uh- hm. Ok. Sure. If you insist,” He avoids eye contact as they both begin to lay down together.

 

Takumi looks at him briefly, before darting his eyes away, and then pulling Kokichi closer, wrapping his arms around him.

 

And for just this once, Kokichi will let this happen.

 

Not because he gets it, not because he gets him. 

 

Not because for some strange, stupid reason, Takumi is making him feel safe, which he obviously isn’t. 

 

Not because he did, genuinely hope Takumi would stay, because he didn’t want that either.

 

Not because Takumi makes sense.

 

Kokichi is just giving him thanks.

 

That’s all.

 

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