Chapter Text
Kiyotaka knew two things to be true: romance was a complete and total waste of time, and, consequently, Valentine’s Day was the worst day of the year.
Well, maybe not the worst day, but certainly the worst holiday. He had nothing against today’s date itself; it was the activities that took place on this day that he detested.
Forgive him for being a bit dramatic, but experiencing Valentine’s Day alone year after year does weigh on one’s fondness of the holiday. And in Kiyotaka’s life, Valentine’s wasn’t just a day of loneliness— it was also a day of humiliation. Honestly, he would have preferred just being left alone. He could handle seeing his peers having their fun, as long as he was left out of it. But, of course, that was never the case.
He had never once in his life been asked out, confessed to, or desired. And every single year without fail, his bullies would pull pranks and trick him on this godforsaken holiday. Fake confession letters (he’d lost track of how many he’d received over the years), public taunting (“Haha! Ishimaru still doesn't have a Valentine! What a loser!”), physical beatdowns (though those took place regardless of the holiday), and once even “poisoned” chocolates (he’d been keen enough to notice the smell of rotten fish before he took a bite). The worst incident had been a certain fake letter given to him in his second year of junior high. However, it hadn't been the usual fake letter, anonymously left on his desk or slipped into his locker. No, this one had been handed to him by a girl— an actual, real person who seemed to have a genuine interest in him. Of course, he hadn't returned those feelings; after all, he hadn't really known her that well. And, ah… there was also the other reason. However, it felt undeniably good to feel wanted and admired for once. His heart had swelled with unbridled hope. He thought he could trust that letter.
He couldn't. It had been one of those letters that shoots glitter out at whoever opens it. He’d foolishly opened it in class and gotten the glitter all over his neat and tidy uniform and his neat and tidy desk. The mess alone had made him want to cry, but the words written within the letter had been the thing to do him in.
—
Ishimaru,
Did you seriously believe someone would want to be your Valentine?! You really are such a fucking idiot! You should know by now that no one will ever love you. I mean, you don't even have friends. What makes you think someone would want to kiss your ugly, obnoxious ass? Ew, even writing that down makes me want to puke!
I’m surprised you actually took the letter from …… We all know you don't even like girls, you fucking fag.
Do us all a favor and hang yourself.
—
The letter hadn’t even been signed, but Kiyotaka knew exactly who it was from: a third year boy whose name he’d forced himself to forget. He couldn't remember the girl's name either, nor those of any of the children who had gathered around to cackle and jeer at him as he sobbed and tried in vain to clean up the glitter.
It was far from the first time he’d been told to kill himself, and it was also not the first time he’d been called that horrible term. And while Kiyotaka absolutely hated to admit it, his classmates had been right— he didn’t (and still doesn’t) like girls. His classmates had realized this even before he had. The start of the name calling was during, gosh… his first year of elementary school? It was so long ago he could hardly remember; he’d only been seven years old. It was before his grandfather’s scandal (that had occurred when he was eight), but that didn't mean he wasn't hated by his peers. He’d been picked on for his personality long before he was picked on for his family name.
And, well, he was also picked on for his… preference. He could recall having a young boy as a “friend” around that time— or as much of a friend as he was allowed to have, being himself and all (really, the boy had only barely tolerated him). Kiyotaka had forced himself to forget his name as well. He'd clung to that boy like the annoying, needy, energy-sucking leech that he was. He remembered following him around throughout the school day, accosting the poor boy with worthless facts about history or natural science that nobody that is normal should care about. He’d even shared his lunch with the boy, brought him candy, called him by his given name, and offered to walk home with him after school— all things he had not realized the implications of.
Eventually, Kiyotaka's other classmates had noticed his fondness for the boy and started pointing it out; they’d taunt and ask where his “boyfriend” was if the boy did not show up that day, or if they were going to “go on a date” after school. They’d even adopted a silly Western children’s rhyme: “Ishimaru and …… sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” By that point, however, none of them had called him… that specific, horrible term. They were all too young to know that it even existed.
Still, though, they’d used other terms, found other ways to shame Kiyotaka. “Fairy”, “fruit”, “homo,”— seemingly “innocent” terms that still held weight. Sometimes Kiyotaka wondered if they’d even known what any of those meant, or if they’d simply repeated what they’d heard from their parents. Kiyotaka himself hadn't even known what they’d meant until he'd searched the phrases up online and been horrified. Horrified because he didn’t like boys, he couldn't! He wasn't allowed! Why would his classmates ever assume such a thing? That was what he'd thought at the time, at least.
But over the years, he’d realized with horror that they were right. He hated it— hated himself, really, for being the way that he was. It was unbecoming of him to be… that way, to like what he liked. He'd struggled through denial for far too long, before realizing that he just couldn’t help it; it was simply how he was born, he supposed. He'd tried to force himself to like girls, but no matter how hard he had tried, he couldn't. He was "broken", in a sense. Just another item to tack onto the long, long list of "things wrong with Kiyotaka Ishimaru".
And, well, there wasn't necessarily anything wrong with being a… a homosexual. Kiyotaka had absolutely nothing against people like that! It would be insanely immoral to be prejudiced against someone simply because of their romantic preferences! Besides, he knew all too well that being homosexual wasn't a choice, and it was wrong to judge someone for something that they couldn't help! But, if it were a choice, he would choose not to be what he was… who he was (both in the sexuality sense and the personality sense).
And while it was okay for other people to be homosexual, it was absolutely not okay for him. He just… he couldn't be, what with his future aspirations and the already tarnished family name he drug around like a ball and chain. It was too much of a social taboo; were he to be outed during his campaign, it would surely be the end of it. And as much as he resented it, as much as he wished it was different... it was just the way things were. Kiyotaka wasn't naïve, and he certainly didn't have rose-colored glasses. He was well aware of the hell he'd face if his secret were to get out. He was well aware that Japan, his beloved country that he felt so much pride and fondness for, undoubtedly had its flaws— one of which being its detestation for “the nails that stick out”.
He couldn't be one of those nails. He couldn't, he couldn't, he just couldn't. He’d lived his whole life hammering himself down, trying to fit in as best he could, succeeding academically so as to achieve his goals. He absolutely couldn't let something as inconsequential (and frankly ridiculous) as his romantic preferences get in the way of said goals. So, as much as it would pain him to lead a life not meant for him, he had reasoned to himself long ago that he would never, ever “come out”, as it were. That he would settle down eventually and marry a woman, as was expected of him. That he would have children with her— heirs to live on and continue his work in improving the public perception of the Ishimaru name. That he would be normal (or as normal as he was capable of). He had decided that, once he was prime minister, he would work diligently to make his country a more welcoming place for those who found themselves beyond the status quo, even though he himself would remain staunchly inside of it.
All those years ago, Kiyotaka had resolved to bury that part of himself deep, deep down, until it was so deep it could never be dug up again. Until it was so deep he would never even think about it. It would hurt— dear god, would it hurt— but he could do it. He had to.
That plan had since been completely derailed.
And it wasn't his fault! He had tried his darnedest to keep it buried, he really had! But a certain boy, a certain bro of his, had caused that part of himself to claw its way out of the earth like a zombie.
Really, it wasn't Kiyotaka’s fault at all. It was Mondo’s fault for being, just… gosh, he couldn't even put it into words. It had taken Kiyotaka a while to accept the fact that, yes, he did indeed have a big fat crush on his sworn bro, his best friend. His male best friend. Who was male.
And he was totally “screwed”, as Mondo would say.
Kiyotaka had tried to deny it. He’d tried to reason with himself that the things he felt for Mondo were strictly platonic. He was just unused to friendship and was thus getting confused! That was it! Nothing more!
But Kiyotaka wasn't stupid. He prided himself on his deductive reasoning skills. By the time his feelings became so intense that he regularly had certain… dreams about Mondo, by the time he’d started wanting to kiss Mondo… by that time, he knew his denial wasn't rational. He had (miraculously) made more friends by that point, and he realized that he did not feel the same things for people like Chihiro, Asahina, or Naegi that he felt for Mondo. Mondo was special. Kiyotaka couldn't deny it any longer; he had to man up and face the facts.
And the fact of the matter was that he was completely, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with his best friend.
Yes, Kiyotaka could admit it, albeit begrudgingly. It honestly wasn't just a crush. It was love, it had to be; it was too fervent a feeling, too all-encompassing, to be a simple crush. And while Kiyotaka had never had a crush before (other than that boy from elementary school, but honestly, he'd hardly call that a crush, more like an infatuation), he knew that this wasn't one. A crush might make one feel nervous when around their object of affection (which Kiyotaka did); a crush might make one clam up and not know what to say (which Kiyotaka did); a crush might make one feel dizzy when physical affection was doled out (which Kiyotaka did). But he also felt more than that. So much more he burned with it.
Did a crush make you want to spend every waking moment with your person? Did it make you ache inside when they were gone, as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest and a part of you had died? Did it make you supremely jealous when their time was taken up by others, because you wanted to be the only person they could think about? Did it make you want to spend the rest of your life with them, to live with them in the house that they built you, to gosh darn marry them?
Kiyotaka didn't think so. He could be wrong (again, he’d never had a crush), but these feelings were just too great to be contained within the fairly casual label of “crush”. He always experienced his emotions at 100%, every single one of them being felt in every single cell of his body. Nothing he ever felt was casual. This, too, was undeniably not.
And sometimes, when he wasn't preoccupied with thinking about all the things he loved about Mondo, Kiyotaka would get angry. Angry at himself for feeling the way that he did, angry at society for not allowing him to be who he was, angry at Mondo for being so lovable. Seriously, could you blame Kiyotaka? Who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as wonderful as Mondo?
Kiyotaka would get angry at the concept of romance, too. That hearkened back to the first thing he knew to be true: romance was a complete and total waste of time. It was just so… frivolous! Ridiculous! Unproductive! Kiyotaka had much better things to do in his life than sit around being a lovestruck idiot all day! Even if he did like girls, and even if they did like him, he would choose not to pursue romance with them either. It was just… too much of a distraction, too silly of a detour. It would keep him away from his goals, ruin his carefully honed work ethic, scramble his thoughts and make him stupid. It would doom him.
And it was currently doing just that.
Kiyotaka was beyond mad at himself. Lately, he’d been having trouble focusing in class, which was quite unlike him! He’d get distracted while watching Mondo chew on his pencil (a nasty habit Kiyotaka had told him to quit, but one that Kiyotaka’s heart couldn't help but seize up at whenever he saw it). Kiyotaka would watch Mondo drum his fingers against the desk (his fingers that were quite deft and attached to two large, veiny hands). He’d watch him scribble down notes in his messy handwriting (how could even handwriting be so endearing??). He’d watch his beautiful, unique, lavender-colored eyes flit around the room, constantly switching attention from object to object. Mondo had always struggled with focusing and maintaining eye contact; he needed to keep taking in his surroundings at all times. It actually helped Mondo learn better that way, he’d explained to Kiyotaka once. If he was just staring at one spot, he’d end up focusing too much on maintaining eye contact instead of the actual information he had to be taking in. The amount of effort Mondo went through just to learn and improve and actually do well in school made Kiyotaka want to melt.
He loved to watch as Mondo’s eyes lit up whenever he was called on by the professor and answered their question correctly. He’d watch as Mondo would turn to him afterwards, flashing him a lovely, toothy grin (he had the most adorably sharp canines) and a double thumbs up (also adorable).
He’d watch as, when the bell rang, Mondo would get up from his desk, gather his things, and make a beeline for Kiyotaka. He’d watch Mondo’s pretty mouth move as he engaged with him in conversation about the course content. Kiyotaka admired that he even did so, because it was obvious he hated talking about academics, but did it anyway for Kiyotaka’s sake. Mondo would always ask the most delightful questions; things like, “So, whaddya think about this part? I thought [so and so], but I wanna know your thoughts, ‘cause you definitely understood it better than me,” and also, “Hey, today’s stuff wasn't as borin’ as usual! I see why ya like history– it's pretty neat! Got any cool history stories to tell me?” as well as, “Wanna study in the library today? I wanna hear ya talk about physics again. The way you explain it always helps me understand it better.”
Yes, it was safe to say that Kiyotaka’s favorite hobby was watching Mondo as he simply… existed. Kiyotaka fell further in love with Mondo at everything he did.
Kiyotaka loved the way Mondo would bump shoulders with him as they walked down the halls, always wanting to be affectionate even in the subtlest of actions. He loved the way that Mondo would always, without fail, hold doors open for him, and offer to carry heavy things for him. He loved the way Mondo held his chopsticks, gesturing around with them wildly as they sat and talked together during lunch; and, relatedly, the way he'd place food item after food item onto Kiyotaka’s plate, insisting that he try everything. He loved the way Mondo’s charmingly informal speech went all giddy and childish when gushing about dogs or cool motorcycles. He loved the way that Mondo would rub the back of his neck when nervous, or play with the hair of his pompadour when deep in thought.
But Kiyotaka’s absolute favorite thing was the way that Mondo laughed. It was never subtle; he laughed so darn loudly, and with his entire body, too. His shoulders would hunch as he doubled over guffawing. His face would scrunch up and his eyebrows would draw together as tears of amusement pricked in his pretty eyes. His smile would always be so wide, his sharp teeth on full display and his joy so clearly evident on his handsome face.
Mondo's laugh was a double-edged sword; while it always made a pleasant warmth bloom in Kiyotaka’s chest, it also made his usually logical thoughts go completely stupid. It was as if every time Mondo laughed, Kiyotaka would shatter like brittle glass, and he would have to spend the next several minutes putting the pieces of himself back together. It was a tedious process, one he really shouldn’t have to go through (seriously, who in the world gets that worked up over their best friend's laugh?). He had better things to do with his time than glue himself back together whenever Mondo broke him.
And it was also usually accompanied by a bittersweet feeling. Bittersweet in that, sometime later in life, a girl would surely be the cause of that wonderful laughter instead of Kiyotaka. Some girl would be privileged enough to marry Mondo and spend every day hearing that laugh, like Kiyotaka longed to do. He would be deprived of that laugh because it didn't belong to him. Mondo didn't belong to him. He never would.
And that was completely fine. Absolutely, 100% fine. Mondo was his friend and only his friend. Mondo didn't even like boys, like Kiyotaka so foolishly did, so there wasn't even the slightest chance of them being able to get together. Mondo was wonderful and perfect and amazing, and he was destined to be with a girl, and that was fine. There was nothing Kiyotaka could do about it, so there was absolutely no use for languishing.
And when Kiyotaka felt the sharp and all too familiar pang of jealousy, the cutting blade of despair, the burning pain, ache, and agony of yearning late at night… well, then he’d just bury all those feelings too. Because they were ridiculous and unproductive and a waste of time. They were stupid and Kiyotaka was stupid and this was all stupid and why, god, why had he been cursed to fall in love with his best friend?!
He couldn't entirely ignore his feelings, but he could declaw them by not letting them consume his very being. He refused to give his illogical feelings control over his rational brain. He would put them in the time out corner, where they'd stay until they (hopefully) withered and died out. And they had to wither one day, right? Surely he wouldn't be in love with Mondo for the rest of his life? Once he and Mondo graduated and went their separate ways (as was inevitable), and once Kiyotaka married a woman, those feelings would be gone, and he’d finally be free from this cursèd cage of pining. That light at the end of the tunnel was the only thing keeping Kiyotaka from losing his damned mind completely.
But it was hard. So gosh darn hard to not go insane, to not let the raging inferno of his feelings reduce him to nothing but a pile of ash. And what’s worse was that it was making interacting with Mondo extremely difficult, much to Kiyotaka's dismay.
Before he’d realized his feelings for Mondo, talking to him and being around him had felt as easy as breathing. But now that Kiyotaka’s useless, frivolous feelings had been kindled into a burning fire that he couldn't stomp out for the life of him… now, he overthought everything. Every move Mondo made, every word out of his mouth… nothing went unnoticed by Kiyotaka and it was exhausting. He wanted to go back to the days where, when he saw his friend, he felt an easy, simple happiness instead of five hundred different emotions at once. He wanted to be able to look at Mondo without feeling like he was going to pass out, or like his heart was going to beat so fast it would fail. He wanted to be able to be casual around Mondo, to share strictly platonic hugs and absolutely non-romantic compliments with him. But now, everything like that was simply fuel for the fire.
Oh, Mondo had patted him on the back one day? Okay, time to think about it and nothing else for twenty-four hours straight. Mondo had complimented a presentation he’d given in class? Why, yes, that definitely warranted Kiyotaka screaming into his pillow until he lost his voice. Mondo had brought him a snack? It was the greatest thing Kiyotaka had ever tasted, and no food would ever compare again. Mondo had so much as waved at him? Well, in that case, Kiyotaka wanted his and Mondo’s boutonniere’s to match the flowers on the temple’s entry archway, and for all their guests to wear colors that matched them as well.
He was so tired. Why had no one told him that being in love with someone was so draining? And painful? And frustrating and stupid and arduous and unpleasant and maybe a little pleasant and very pleasant and squirmy and warm and fluffy and wonderful and–
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Stop it, get back to important things, Kiyotaka told himself.
Hm. What had he even been thinking about before his ridiculous tangent? Ah, yes. Valentine’s Day. He’d been thinking about Valentine’s Day and how it was the worst holiday. The worst holiday that was occurring today. Today was Valentine’s Day.
Drat.
He found himself slowly coming back to the present, unsure of how long he’d been out of it. He hadn't even registered the fact that he was now dressed and ready for the day, with his uniform ironed, his boots polished, and his buttons, medal, and epaulettes shined. He had started to walk down the halls from his dorm room to his classroom with his usual confident stride. A quick glance at his wristwatch told him class started in fifteen minutes (good grief, he was practically already late!), so he sped up his marching (but, of course, he did not run).
When Kiyotaka arrived, he found that the entire classroom was covered in Valentine’s Day decorations, most of them handmade. He had worked with one of the girls’ clubs to secure permission for them to set up such decorations, but even though he’d been expecting the sight, it still made his heart drop. Images of pink, red, and white paper hearts, as well as folded paper roses and large, gaudy paper conversation candies, permeated his vision. He associated all of that iconography with some of the worst days he’d ever been cursed to experience in his life.
Because class hadn't started yet, his classmates were standing and walking around, chatting with each other amicably and handing out Valentine’s chocolates. He noticed Naegi in one corner, shakily holding a gift basket filled with luxury chocolates before Kirigiri, who simply gawked at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. He noticed Kuwata trying to subtly lay his arm around Maizono, who surprisingly did not move away from the embrace. He noticed Yamada practically groveling at Ludenberg’s feet to accept his (quite frankly, terrible looking) handmade chocolates. Ludenberg simply looked down at him and sneered. Fukawa was experiencing something similar as Togami glared at her, unspeaking, before she put what Kiyotaka assumed was a love letter back into her pocket.
The overbearing sight of all these confessions and all of this ridiculous romance made Kiyotaka force his eyes shut, navigating to his desk on instinct alone. He didn't even force his eyes open to search for the one person he always searched for whenever he entered a room. Not this time, not on this day. Kiyotaka wasn't sure what he’d do if he had to witness Mondo being confessed to by someone else… by some girl. Some girl that would be much more deserving of Mondo's affection. Some girl for whom Mondo would feel the same things that Kiyotaka felt. Some girl that would get to kiss Mondo and hold his hand and go on dates with him and spend every second of her day with him.
Oh, how lucky that girl would be...
Kiyotaka shook himself hard to stop himself from ruminating. He slowly opened his eyes as he sat down at his desk and pulled some worksheets out of his bag. If he could just keep himself distracted all day long, he wouldn't have to feel any of the bitter jealousy in his heart or the stabbing pain in his chest. He just had to get through today. Well, today and the rest of high school…
God, Kiyotaka was completely doomed, wasn't he?
He shut his brain off as he completed his math problems. Schoolwork was always such a wonderful outlet for his stress. He didn't have to think about anything going on in his life if all of his brain power was directed towards formulas and equations. He felt a sense of inner calm when engaging with math especially.
That little bubble of calm threatened to pop, however, when Kiyotaka heard a certain laugh echo through the room. He tried to keep his head down, but the sound was just so alluring— like a siren call— that his body moved without his permission. Immediately, his eyes found Mondo. They always did. It was like they had magnets in them that only responded to him.
Mondo was sitting near Kuwata and Maizono, and, as expected, he was doubled over, clutching his stomach as he roared with laughter over some joke Kuwata must’ve cracked. He laughed and laughed and laughed, so loudly that their other classmates had stopped their conversations and were staring over at him in mild annoyance.
Kiyotaka was not annoyed. He could never be, not when that beautiful, heaven-sent sound was reverberating through his brain and turning it to mush. As always, Kiyotaka was fragile glass, and Mondo had shattered him again. All he could do was stare as Mondo continued to laugh, slapping himself on the knee, hitting his desk, stomping his foot, even reaching over and grasping at Kuwata. Mondo had a tendency to get physical like that when he laughed; the joy he felt was clearly too intense to be contained within his body, and he needed to move around to expel it. Kiyotaka could relate immensely.
Sometimes, Kiyotaka would try to make Mondo laugh just so that Mondo would grab at him, bury his face in Kiyotaka’s shoulder, pat his arm, or shove him lightly. The sound was what Kiyotaka really loved, but the touch was a magnificent side effect he had slowly become addicted to. A sudden ache filled his chest when he realized he was across the classroom from Mondo and wasn't the one experiencing his touch right now. He wasn't the one who had made Mondo laugh, and something about that made Kiyotaka itch.
He ignored the ache. He ignored the itch. When Mondo noticed Kiyotaka staring and waved at him with a smile, Kiyotaka gave a half-hearted wave back before tearing his eyes away from Mondo with great difficulty. He looked unwaveringly back down at his paper. He felt cold, and he was gripping his pencil so tight that the lead broke when he tried to write something down.
He really, really should not be having so many ridiculous thoughts over something so small. He… he wasn't allowed to. He wasn't allowed to think of Mondo as anything more than a friend. He wasn't allowed to yearn for them to be more than that. He didn't deserve that, and he wasn't allowed to have it.
Besides, he had better things to yearn for, better things to pursue. Graduating with top honors, taking office, making the world a better place, righting his grandfather’s wrongs. Those were important. Romance was not.
His throat felt tight as he continued to solve equations, before a small hand tapped him on the shoulder. Kiyotaka slung his head up to come face to face with Chihiro, who was smiling at him in such a sincere way that it made Kiyotaka smile back at her.
He made sure to address her by her given name, like she had asked him to. They were friends, after all! And she really was such a nice friend. Kiyotaka was very lucky to have her (good grief, why couldn't he have a crush on her instead?? It would make his life so much easier…).
“Good morning, Chihiro!" he greeted, shoving his thoughts away. “Did you need something?”
“Um… not really, but…” she started, clearly trying to find a way to phrase whatever she was thinking of. She settled on saying, “Have you gotten any Valentine’s gifts today?”
Kiyotaka stalled at that. He wanted to respond with, “No, of course I haven't, why would I? I never have and I never will and I am so sick of people asking me that. I don't even want a Valentine, so it's fine. It's fine, everything is fine, please leave me alone, I’m fine.”
He did not say this, though. Instead, he said, “No, I have not. Have you?”
“Ah, no, I haven't,” she said shyly, before her more confident grin returned. “But, um… I think you actually have received a gift.”
Kiyotaka blinked in confusion. “Whatever do you mean? Nobody has approached me today."
“Yeah, but... you might have, you know, an anonymous gift? I think I saw somebody leaving something in your desk before you came into class. Maybe– maybe you should check it out?” she pressed.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes, before realizing that was very rude of him, so he apologized. He didn't believe Chihiro, but he reluctantly rummaged around in his desk’s cubbyhole anyway. “Thank you for the tip, but you must be mistaken. Nobody has ever given me a–”
Then, his fingers brushed up against it. It was paper, small and rectangular shaped. A letter? Gosh, it had been years since he’d received a fake confession letter! He’d honestly thought they’d stopped since he left his old high school for Hope’s Peak! But no, clearly someone here had realized just how hilarious it would be to get their overbearing hall monitor’s hopes up. Well, jokes on them! He’d stopped falling for the letters ages ago.
He sighed as he slipped it out of the cubbyhole and onto his desk. It was in a pink envelope with a heart-shaped sticker keeping the flap closed. On the flap, “For Ishimaru” was written in neat, swirly handwriting and penned in blood red ink.
Ah, so his “secret admirer” was most likely a girl. He wondered if she’d come up with the idea of the prank on her own, or if she had been recruited by a boy and become the messenger. The latter was usually more common, but Kiyotaka had had a fair few female bullies in his day, so perhaps she had worked alone.
Was it someone in this class? Had Kiyotaka had enough of an antagonistic relationship with one of his female classmates for this to be warranted? His eyes scanned the room as he thought. Perhaps Enoshima? Kiyotaka did not interact with her much, but she seemed mean-spirited enough to pull such a prank. Then again, she’d never shown any interest— negative or otherwise— in Kiyotaka, aside from making snide comments about the way he dressed.
Chihiro, Kirigiri, Asahina, Ogami, and Maizono would never pull such a stunt, he was sure. He believed them to be above such a cruel thing. Kiyotaka didn't know much about Ikusaba, but she also did not seem the type to do something like this. She, frankly, didn't seem to care about her classmates enough to want to waste her time antagonizing them like her sister did.
…Was it Ludenberg? Kiyotaka would be the first to admit that he was not fond of the girl; she was often rude and snarky to her classmates, contributing to a negative learning environment that was antithetical to cooperation and educational growth. But had Kiyotaka really done something to her to drive her to do this? He couldn't recall ever giving her detention… perhaps she just hated his personality that much? He wouldn't blame her if that were the case.
Fukawa was an option Kiyotaka considered for a split second before remembering her obsession with Togami. She had eyes only for him, and wouldn't pull this stunt even as a prank.
So if it wasn't anyone in this class, then who? Had he upset a reserve course girl? Or perhaps an upperclassman? He racked his brain for any more options but came up blank.
Oh, well. It didn't really matter who had given the letter to him. He’d simply throw it away and move on.
He realized, then, that Chihiro was still watching expectantly, clearly waiting for him to open it and read it. Ah… how could he explain to her that this was a fake letter? She seemed so happy for Kiyotaka… well, he supposed he could oblige, just for her. After all, who wouldn't want to see their friend be confessed to (other than Kiyotaka with a certain friend of his)?
He removed the sticker from the flap and slid the letter out of the envelope.
–
Dear Ishimaru,
You don't know who I am, but I have a crush on you.
–
Immediately, he stopped reading. The amount of times he’d read letters that opened with this same exact line, just for them to be total shams, was enough to make him 100% sure that this, too, was a sham. And of course it was anonymous. That was what his bullies usually did; they made him think he had a “secret admirer”, told him to go wait outside after school to “meet her”, before they ganged up on him and beat him to a pulp. He’d then have to stagger his way home and try to pass off his injuries as being from a fall, so that his father wouldn't get worried.
Kiyotaka sighed again. He elected to ignore Chihiro’s confused look as he stood up out of his desk, straightened his jacket, and strode towards the trash can to discard the letter.
However, just before Kiyotaka could crumple it up and drop it in, Asahina practically pounced on him out of nowhere, waving her arms frantically.
“Wait, wait, Taka! Why’re you throwing that away?! It's a love letter! You have a secret admirer!” she exclaimed frantically. Hold on, how did she know that he had a “secret admirer”? Had she been in cahoots with the prankster, and was tasked with making sure Kiyotaka fell for the bait? A small spark of disappointment flickered inside him. He had thought Asahina was more moral than that… perhaps he’d been mistaken.
“Ah, no, unfortunately I don't. This is a prank letter. Believe me, I know. I have received a great many of these in my past, and I know what they look like.” He took a deep, shaky breath before spitting out, “Besides, no one would ever want to be my Valentine, so it makes no sense for this letter to be genuine.”
Asahina looked crestfallen. “Oh, no, Taka, that's not right… someone will totally wanna be your Valentine one day! Actually, I know they do, because…” she bit her lip before deciding to say what she was going to say, “because I know who your admirer is! I… I know that they're being genuine. I promise.”
The look on Asahina’s face was so sincere that he couldn't help but trust her. Besides, Asahina was a good person. She wouldn't… she wouldn't lie to Kiyotaka, right? Kiyotaka even believed she thought of him as a friend, if the way she called him by his nickname was anything to go by. And Asahina didn't seem the type to lie to a friend.
But still… Kiyotaka, of all people? Having a real admirer? That was… that was just unheard of! It had to be the most statistically unlikely event to ever occur in human history! He couldn't believe it! He refused to believe it! He was… he was so beyond undeserving, so beyond unlovable. He felt horrible for whatever poor girl had been unlucky enough to catch feelings for him. Clearly she was misguided.
And if Asahina was to be trusted— if this letter was genuine— then he had a moral duty to confront his admirer and let her down gently. She deserved to have a sense of closure. Kiyotaka needed to explain to her that she did not really like him, that she was confused and that she should turn her attention towards someone else. He’d have to explain that he– he couldn't return her feelings, even if he’d wanted to. He wouldn't tell her exactly why, but she still deserved to know that what she yearned for was forever out of reach. Kiyotaka knew intimately what that felt like, so he had sympathy for this mystery girl.
Just then, Naegi walked up to stand beside Asahina. He nodded, clearly having overheard their conversation.
“Hina’s right, y’know, it is genuine,” he confirmed. “I know the admirer too, and I know that h–” Asahina elbowed him in the ribs, making him cough before he continued, “–sorry, she has really been wanting to confess to you for a while. Give her a chance?”
Why had Naegi emphasized the admirer’s pronouns? Obviously she was a girl. Nobody in Hope’s Peak was homosexual (except for Kiyotaka, because he couldn't just be normal, for heaven’s sake), as far as he was aware. Or at least, nobody that he knew well enough for them to have a crush on him was homosexual.
No matter. If Naegi was vouching for the validity of the letter as well, then… then it must be genuine. Naegi wouldn't lie to him either, Kiyotaka thought (or hoped, really). He’d even told Kiyotaka that he thought of them as friends; Naegi didn't seem the type to lie to his friends, either.
Hmmm… Kiyotaka really didn't want to disappoint his friends (or his admirer), but he also didn't want to betray his intuition. It had saved his skin plenty of times, and he was still in disbelief that anyone on earth would have real, genuine feelings for him.
Well, if this was all real, he was going to need to meet his admirer. And to know how to meet her, he'd have to read her letter.
He looked back down at the paper in his hands.
–
Dear Ishimaru,
You don't know who I am, but I have a crush on you. I have for quite a while, honestly, but I wasn't sure how to tell you. From the moment I saw you, I knew that I liked you. I really, really hope that you like me too.
I’m honestly not sure what to write in this letter. I have so many thoughts and feelings about you, but the moment I put pen to paper, my brain goes numb. My brain goes numb when I look at you, too, and when you talk to me. I hope this isn't too corny to say, but it also goes numb whenever you laugh. I wish you would laugh more often.
Since I find that putting my feelings into words is difficult, I’ll put them into actions instead. That way, you can hopefully understand how I feel.
So that’s why I'm sending you on a scavenger hunt. At the end of it, you’ll find the place where I want you to meet me. Your first clue is in the library, tucked into a certain book in the history section.
If I'm being honest, I kind of want to spill my guts out in this letter, because I'm worried that when you finally meet up with me, I’ll get nervous and be unable to say everything I've prepared. But, once again, even the thought of you makes my hand stop writing. I think I need to tell you everything in person. It's more sincere that way. And I, rather selfishly, really want to see your face as I confess.
I always really want to see your face.
Forever yours,
Secret Admirer
–
Oh, this poor, poor girl. She clearly had it bad. Kiyotaka’s heart ached for her, since he knew just how terrible it felt to have an unrequited crush. He… he was going to have to reject her, and that might ruin her. Kiyotaka knew it would ruin him if he were outright rejected by… someone he was explicitly not thinking about right now, so as to keep his thoughts coherent.
Kiyotaka had never rejected a girl before. Oh, gosh… how was he supposed to do that?! He was so, so bad at gentleness! He couldn't be soft for the life of him! He’d probably end up using the wrong tone, or raising his voice at her unintentionally, causing her to cry! How horrible that would feel for her, to be yelled at and told to, essentially, “get lost” by her object of affection!
Suddenly, frustration gripped Kiyotaka. Why couldn't this girl have fallen for anyone else? Why did it have to be him, of all the people she could choose?! Why couldn't she have fallen for someone normal, someone deserving of love and affection, someone who wasn't wrong and broken and hopelessly in love with their male best friend??
And did this girl even know about his family history? Why would she ever want to associate with him, an Ishimaru? She had no idea what she was trying to get herself into! If Kiyotaka had been capable of liking her back, and if they had started dating, she could have been put at serious risk! What if his old bullies returned and gave her grief? What if those important to her found out about her connection to him and abandoned her for it? What if she was hurt because of him?!
Kiyotaka would never forgive himself if an innocent, unrelated person got hurt because of the burden that was his— and his alone— to bear. He would never forgive himself if he were the cause of someone getting physically attacked and hurt as severely as he had been in his past. Nobody deserved to deal with what Kiyotaka had dealt with. Of course, Kiyotaka had deserved it; he was, well… himself, after all. But he had the mental and physical fortitude to put up with it. He’d been abused and had come out stronger because of it. Someone else might not be that strong. It might break them, even kill them— and it would be all Kiyotaka’s fault. He could not have that. He wouldn't stand for it!
Suddenly, Hagakure strode up behind Naegi and Asahina, interrupting Kiyotaka’s thoughts.
“Woah! Did Ishimaru get a love letter?” he asked dopily.
“Yeah, he’s got a secret admirer,” Naegi verified. Even though Kiyotaka believed the letter was genuine now, it still felt foreign to hear those words.
“Ooohhh,” Hagakure said, closing his eyes and bringing a hand up to his stubbled chin. “Y'know, I’m predicting that there's a 90% chance the admirer is–”
Asahina elbowed him sharply in the stomach, making him release a loud “oof!”. “Don’t spoil it, doofus!” she hissed. “Let him figure it out for himself!”
“Oops, sorry!” Hagakure replied quickly before Asahina gave him a significant glare and he scurried off.
Even though Kiyotaka did not and could not return his admirer’s feelings, he was still undeniably curious to figure out who it was. What kind of girl would even be interested in him? Clearly one that didn't value her own safety (or sanity).
She mentioned in her letter that Kiyotaka had talked to her before, so he was trying to think of girls not in his homeroom class that he’d interacted with long enough for a crush to blossom from it. Surely none of the girls he'd ever given detention to were his admirer… so just who could it be?
He’d honestly wanted Hagakure to spit it out; his curiosity and impatience was gnawing at him. And if Hagakure had revealed who it was, Kiyotaka could've streamlined this whole process. He could've just found her directly without having to go through the scavenger hunt, and gotten this over with posthaste.
But then again, the idea of a scavenger hunt sounded sort of fun. Kiyotaka loved puzzles; anything that got his brain cerebrating was a worthwhile pastime that he enjoyed. So, he couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect of having to work out clues and find where he was supposed to go.
He wondered where the girl would take him, and where she planned to meet him at the end. Should he… should he bring her some kind of condolence gift? Something to say, “I’m sorry I don't feel the same, but that doesn't mean you’re not worthy of a Valentine; you deserve someone better to date”? Would that be weird? Hm…
Kiyotaka’s thoughts were interrupted once more when a large, warm, heavy hand he knew the feel of all too well was placed on his shoulder. A voice that was as familiar to him as his own spoke out.
“Hey, bro! What's goin’ on over here? Did ya get a letter or somethin’?”
The glass of Kiyotaka’s soul shattered again. He wasn't sure how many times he’d had to glue it back together at this point, and how many more times he would continue to have to do so. Nearly instantly, his mind retrieved the file labeled “Things to love about Mondo Owada” and began to read it aloud to himself (even though he already had every entry memorized). Words bounced off the walls of his brain like frantic insects. Handsome, beautiful, adorable, kind, big-hearted, friendly, hilarious, strong, loyal, intelligent, patient, gentle, understanding, selfless, moral, resilient, courageous, hard-working, passionate–
And on and on and on until the end of time.
Mondo hadn't even done anything but speak and Kiyotaka was already smitten. Good god, he had to get a hold of himself now! What an embarrassment he was! How– how foolish he was!
Kiyotaka cleared his throat and reigned in the last of his coherent thoughts.
“Yes,” he started, the word coming out in an unintentionally garbled choke, “I did. It's– it’s from a secret admirer.”
Mondo smiled a lopsided smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Damn, Taka! Good for you!” he said, but there was a flicker of... some kind of emotion in his eyes that did not align with his congratulatory tone.
Mondo’s lip twitched ever so slightly as Kiyotaka shuffled the paper around in his hands. Had he not been staring at Mondo’s lips like he always did, he wouldn't have even noticed.
Ah. Mondo must be envious; it would definitely not feel good to have your best friend receive a love letter when you did not.
Kiyotaka smiled sympathetically. “Did you get any gifts for Valentine's?” he asked, despite already guessing the answer.
“Nah,” Mondo said with a sigh. “But it’s all good. Maybe next year.”
An odd sense of relief washed over Kiyotaka. “Maybe next year,” he repeated encouragingly. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a sincere gift on this holiday. It’s… it feels nice.”
“Really?” Mondo asked, tilting his head in the adorable way that always made Kiyotaka’s heart throb painfully against his ribs. “I’m surprised ya haven't had suitors on your tail year after year, bro!”
“Why’s that?” Kiyotaka asked, genuinely confused.
“Well, ‘cause, y’know,” Mondo started, taking his warm hand off of Kiyotaka’s shoulder to rub at the back of his neck. Kiyotaka mourned the loss of contact like one mourns a deceased lover. “‘Cause you’re you! You’re fuckin’ great, man! Anyone would be lucky to have ya as a Valentine.”
The glass that had been shattered earlier was stomped into little pieces so fine that Kiyotaka didn't think he'd ever be able to glue them back together again. The words and thoughts and feelings buzzing incessantly around his mind finally paused, leaving him winded. He blinked stupidly up at Mondo.
Mondo thought– Mondo really, honestly thought that someone would be lucky to have Kiyotaka? What… what… what the ever-loving heck?
No… no, surely he was just saying that to make Kiyotaka feel better; he was so kind like that, it was something he’d do. Although it was a white lie (which Kiyotaka didn't approve of), Mondo did it for the sake of making his friend feel better, and that was something Kiyotaka admired. Well, he admired absolutely everything about Mondo, really. It was starting to get hard to narrow all the little things down.
A blush that was surely bright red had climbed its way up Kiyotaka’s face. He smiled despite himself. “Thank you, bro. I echo the same sentiment for you.”
“Thanks,” Mondo said sheepishly. He brought his hand back down to rest on Kiyotaka’s shoulder again, and a burning, unbridled joy exploded within Kiyotaka's chest that was so bright he worried it would shine through his skin and clothes. His brain, heart, and stomach all lurched forward simultaneously like he was on a roller coaster that had suddenly stopped. He felt winded again.
“So, uh… you gonna meet up with her?”
It was Kiyotaka’s turn to sigh, his burning joy fading a little. “Yes, I believe I have to. I… I need to let her down gently. She deserves some sort of closure,” he said, rather subdued.
Mondo seemed taken aback. “Wait, why’s that? You–” he gave a strange choking sound from the back of his throat, “–you don't like her?”
“Well, how am I supposed to know if I like her or not? I don't even know who she is,” Kiyotaka pointed out. “However, that's not the reason. I…”
He paused. Should he admit what he was about to admit? Would it make any difference if he did? It’s not like Mondo would know who he was talking about anyway…
He steeled his resolve and went for it. After all, there was no use lying to Mondo. He was always able to see through Kiyotaka's defensive veils. “I like someone already, and I have a feeling that the girl that wrote this letter is not that person,” he said.
Mondo’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. There was an emotion stirring in his eyes again that Kiyotaka could not decipher. “Wait, actually? You never told me that! Dude! That's, like, best friend one-oh-one!”
“Oh. Is it?” Kiyotaka questioned dumbly.
“Yeah! Friends tell each other when they’re crushin’! Damn, I can't believe ya kept this from me! So, who is it? What’s she like?” Mondo pressed, his voice slightly shaky.
“Ah, well… I don’t think I’m ready to reveal more information just yet,” Kiyotaka mumbled, which made Mondo’s expression flicker into something more negative before it returned to its cute inquisitive look.
“Well, ya don't gotta tell me if ya don't wanna,” he said definitively.
A few beats of silence passed between them, and unlike their usual shared silences, this one was charged and thick.
Kiyotaka broke it first. “Do– do you like someone?” he asked tentatively, the question burning like bile in his throat. Half of himself wanted to know so desperately, and the other half wanted to never, ever find out, so that he could keep living in blissful ignorance.
Mondo’s bashful smile found its way back to his handsome face. “Yeah, I do. Not gonna tell ya who, though! Not unless you tell me yours…”
Kiyotaka’s entire body went cold, as if he’d been doused in ice water. Not even Mondo’s hand burning a pleasant brand onto his shoulder could save him from the gnawing chill. His heart had fallen right into his stomach. He instantly regretted even asking that stupid, stupid, stupid question.
Mondo liked someone. Mondo liked someone that wasn't Kiyotaka. Mondo liked a girl. Of course– of course he did. Why was Kiyotaka surprised? Why was he acting like that wouldn't make sense? Of course Mondo liked a girl. Of course Mondo didn't like Kiyotaka, god, why would he? How ridiculous would that be? How stupid was Kiyotaka for even entertaining the idea?
This shouldn't be such a surprise. Kiyotaka had already accepted the fact that Mondo would belong to a girl someday. He’d already come to terms with it. It was fine, 1,000% fine and it wasn't a problem and it was expected and it was normal so why was it making Kiyotaka want to sob?
Oh, god, if he cried right now… how stupid, how weak, how pathetic that would be. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting the pain distract him from the stinging sensation that was building behind his eyes. He forced a smile onto his face, desperately hoping it didn't look bitter.
“Well, bro… I hope that she likes you back. You… you deserve it.”
“Thanks,” Mondo said for a second time, smiling a smile so shy and adorable it made Kiyotaka want to rip his own hair out. Shame was burning through Kiyotaka’s soul. How immoral of him to find his best bro adorable, how immoral to be in love with him when he was destined for someone else! And he was destined for her, he had to be. She would be the most brainless fool alive to ever reject Mondo.
A thought crossed Kiyotaka’s mind, then, one that he had had plenty of times before. He couldn't help but wish that Mondo were a girl, so that Kiyotaka being in love with him wasn't so… wrong. He… he wished he was allowed to love Mondo. He wished he was allowed to want him as badly as he did. He wished he didn't have to feel the gnawing shame every time he thought about how broken he was for wanting another boy this badly.
But Mondo wasn't a girl. Nor was Kiyotaka. They were both boys, and thus they could never, ever be together. Even if one of them had been a girl, Kiyotaka wasn't sure they could be together either. For instance, Kiyotaka being a girl didn't mean that Mondo would automatically reciprocate his feelings. Kiyotaka would surely still retain his godawful personality as a girl, and so it would make sense for Mondo to not love him either way. Mondo would never love him as anything more than a friend— a brother— and Kiyotaka had to grow the hell up and just accept it already.
Then, somebody cleared their throat, breaking Kiyotaka out of his spiraling thoughts.
Oh, it was Naegi. He was standing there, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot, his hands in his hoodie pockets. Asahina stood beside him, also looking awkward. Kiyotaka had completely forgotten they were there. How rude of him!
Before he could apologize, however, the final bell signaling the start of class rang out. Oh, thank heavens. What was the saying again? Saved by the bell?
Kiyotaka stood as tall as he could muster, trying to regain his composure so he could perform his duty as class president. “Alright, everyone!” he called out, turning away from Mondo, Naegi, and Asahina and towards the rest of his classmates. “Please cease with your Valentine’s gift exchanges and find your way to your desks!”
His classmates did as they were told. To Kiyotaka’s chagrin, their professor had yet to show, so he took it upon himself to carry out the morning roll call.
He took his place behind the teacher’s podium, reading his classmate’s names aloud one by one. And if his voice became far too fond, far too soft, far too unprofessional when he called out Mondo’s name, then… well, he hoped no one noticed.