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Confessing is Hard.

Kokichi Ouma is confessed to by you. How will he react?

Fluff with a dense reader. At least, I think it’s fluff. Barely. This is a long one with an alternative (and longer) ending in the making currently, which will include our favorite white-haired boy. This is the short one, and it’s sitting around a word count of 6.8k right now. Cut under preview.

If you like this, chances are you’ll like one of my other Ouma fics, so feel free to swing by (at this point, I’ve almost only posted Ouma fics and desperately need to write for other characters). Requests are open for any of the 48 students in Danganronpa! Check the rules here.

You put a hand over your mouth and yawned, your lips stretching an absurd amount to suck in the desired oxygen.

“Wow! That sure was a loud yawn,” Kokichi popped in front of your face, sitting on the seat in front of you backward in order to face you.

You chuckled and somehow maintained your composure. Probably more because you were exhausted rather than because you had learned to get used to him.

“Well, I guess that’s what happens when I only get three hours of sleep…” And you yawned again.

You could feel his purple eyes slowly dragging their gaze across your worn-out body, which was dressed plainly in a form-fitting, white v-neck t-shirt and droopy black sweatpants clinging loosely to your hips, sending tingles over the aforesaid skin. You couldn’t help it, but you sure hoped he didn’t notice as you crossed your arms and leaned them on your desk, letting your head rest on your forearm.

“I don’t know why, but you seem more attractive than usual dressed in these ratty clothes,” Ouma said, almost looking serious for once. And then he laughed viciously. “Nishishi, just kidding! Who would want to see your ugly ass in even uglier clothes?” And he stood up and strolled away casually, carefree, hands interlocked behind the back of his head.

You could only sigh and close your eyes, defeated. His daily assault of words didn’t really get kinder as you got to know him better. You had thought once he and you were closer, he might be less nasty toward you. But there appeared to be no difference in his treatment of you, no matter how much time the two of you had spent together now, whether in the presence of others or alone.

That’s why you thought you had probably been cursed.

After all, why else would you like a mischievous, malicious, purple little gremlin like Kokichi Ouma?

“Himeko~” You moaned in agony as you wrapped your arms around the girl from behind. “Did you cast an All The Men You Fall In Love With Will Be Despicable Demons curse on me?”

The red-haired witch nearly jumped, startled.

“Nyeh?! Why would you think that? I wouldn’t curse someone as nice as you,” she blushed, making a little cross with the tips of her index fingers.

“Ooh, you’ve got someone you like?” And the subject in question seemed to pop out of nowhere again, jumping in front of you as the two of you walked in the hallways, and you used her as a shield.

“Kokichi! It’s a bad habit to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. How much did you hear, anyway?”

You tried to keep all the blood from rushing to your cheeks and ears, futilely and pursed your lips in irritation.

He seemed pretty apathetic either way, though.

“Whelp, you caught me! I heard all of it, duh. How would I know you have someone you like if I hadn’t been here for the start of your conversation? And you had only been talking to Himiko for, like, two seconds, anyway. Also, the school hallway is a public area, so this isn’t even considered eavesdropping!” He rattled off excuse after excuse for listening to the two of you talk. And you couldn’t really refute any of them, either, because they were all legitimate.

You groaned, putting a hand to your head like you had a headache. It wasn’t too far off, really, because usually when you talked to Kokichi, either you could hardly make heads or tails of what Kokichi was saying, or your heart was pumping out of your chest because he was so close to you. Or both. He always had to get in other people’s personal space like that.

“Whatever! Just don’t listen to my conversations with other people.”

He put a finger to his lips mockingly.

“Well, then maybe you should have your conversations in more private settings. Not that I wouldn’t find a way to overhear you, anyway, being the leader of a secret evil organization. I have my ways, you know.”

You stamped your foot in frustration.

“Kokichi! I’m serious,” you growled.

He threw his hands up in the air, smirking.

“So am I. Or maybe I’m not. I am a liar, you know? But don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s not like who you like has anything to do with me, anyway.”

And with that, he walked away, whistling some happy-go-lucky tune that you were sure was going to be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. Partly because it was Kokichi whistling it, so you couldn’t keep eyes or ears off him, and partly because it was Kokichi whistling it, so of course he would pick a song that was an earworm just to antagonize everyone within his general vicinity as much as possible.

Oh, the irony of his words. You had a vague, nagging feeling that he knew just who you liked and just how he had exactly everything to do with the object of your affection, but you also didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey!” Himiko pouted, her nasal voice carrying in the empty hallways. “How long are you going to hold me for? Kokichi already left five minutes ago!”

You took your arms off of her, flustered.

“Oh, sorry, Himiko…”

But rather than being irked, she seemed rather angry and disappointed as she averted her gaze from yours pointedly.

“Is it him?” she asked.

Caught off-guard, you could barely formulate a coherent answer.

“What? Is what him?”

Frustrated seemingly because she had to spell it out, she put her hands on her hips forcefully and spoke loudly while looking you straight in the eyes with her round eyes.

“Is! The! Person! You like! Kokichi!”

You could only put your hands to your burning cheeks, horrified.

“I… Uh… Well…” But you couldn’t figure out a way to evade the question, and it seemed like she knew by now, anyway. She was just confirming her suspicions.

“Just answer me,” she said, the words coming out fast and heated.

You bit your bottom lip nervously and looked around for any signal of life in the hallways, especially the tell-tale bouncing air purple strands of purple hair.

“I mean… Yes,” you admitted, putting your hands over your eyes in shame. “Ugh,” you groaned.

She looked crushed, and tears seemed to spring from her eyes.

“Why? Why is it him?”

And before you could even give her an answer, she turned around and fled the scene on both hands, both feet and both nipples. You had to give her credit. She was pretty fast for a lazy, short little girl who rarely exercised. But what you didn’t understand was her melodramatic reaction to your confession. Wouldn’t someone who was the object of your confession be more troubled?

Puzzled, all you could do was walk through the hallways in silence toward the exit of the school so you could go home. And then you felt a hand plop down on your shoulder.

This time it wasn’t Kokichi, luckily enough.

You turned your head, and your eyes immediately caught those of the person who also owned the hand resting on your shoulder.

You tilted your head.

“Hajime…? What is it?” you asked.

He seemed somewhat out of breath, panting and bent forward before he straightened up and held out a piece of paper to you.

“I think you forgot this,” he said.

You didn’t recognize the tattered slip of folded paper, which had clearly been worn and worried by a pair of hands repeatedly and for some time. But even so, you reached out and took it.

“I don’t think this is mine,” you replied belatedly as you unfolded the paper to read the contents.

But you didn’t see any marks on it. At least, not at first.

A cheesy, spiraling red heart began to shift around on the paper and stretch out with crimson, curling tendrils, emphasizing the neat cursive words in black appearing on the paper, which showed evidence of repeated practice to make the shaky and messy writing beautiful and round.

“I love you,” Hajime mumbled aloud.

Your head lifted slowly to look at him.

“Ah, no!” he said, taking a step back in surprise. “I was just reading the note, I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”

You nodded in understanding.

“I wonder who wrote it, and who it’s addressed to? Either way, this seems like a really elaborate way of confessing, what with the pretty patterns twirling on the paper.”

He only shrugged.

Curious, you held it up to the sun and looked at it closer, your breath floating over it softly, and then you saw a name after the three words.

To be exact, your own name.

“What?! It’s to me?” You exclaimed in shock. You turned to Hajime. “Where’d you find this, anyway? Why’d you think it was mine?”

He rubbed the back of his head, thinking back.

“Well, I saw it on the ground and then looked down the hallway to see you walking away, so I figured you had dropped it on the ground by accident or it had fell out of your pocket.”

You looked pensive, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Who could have written this, though? You only saw me at the time, anyway.”

Hajime’s olive eyes pierced straight through yours.

“Well, did you talk to anyone before that? They could’ve dropped it.” And then he sweat nervously. “Well, really anyone could have dropped it… But it probably would have been stepped all over if someone had dropped it when a lot of students were still around. And although the paper looks pretty crinkled, it doesn’t look dirty, and there are no shoe-prints or anything.”

Something clicked in your head. How could you be so dumb, anyway?

“Oh! I was talking to Himiko before she suddenly ran away. Does that mean–” you laughed happily, and Hajime’s eyebrows raised to hear your answer, “–that Himiko magicked a confession from someone else into my name because she was bored?”

Completely and utterly defeated, Hajime almost staggered as he attempted to answer you.

“I-I… I hardly think Himiko’s the type to do that. She rarely ever uses magic in the first place, much less as a way to entertain herself. She’s much too lazy,” he said, stumbling over his words.

Another lightbulb went off in your head.

“Oh, that’s right! Did she want to console me, then? Since I told her I like Kokichi and anyone could tell he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Hajime almost fell down like in the gag mangas. He was sorely tempted but tried not to try his luck. With his luck, he’d probably roll down a flight or two of stairs.

“No, I don’t think that’s it…”

You pouted at his lackluster answers to your brilliant ideas.

“Then you think of an idea, Mister Ultimate Detective!”

He sighed.

“First of all, don’t call me that. Don’t you think that’s an insult to Kirigiri and Saihara, who actually earned the title?”

You smiled, grin spreading wide.

“Hey, you should be right up there with them! Your investigative skills are surprisingly overly adequate whenever we hold mock trials or do escape rooms in school festivals. And Saihara can’t even take himself seriously, much less an Ultimate title.”

He could only sigh a second time.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? That’s the first time I’ve heard someone use the phrase, ‘surprisingly overly adequate’ to describe someone else’s abilities. And you shouldn’t point out things like that, even if it’s true!”

Your face was calm, and you stared into his eyes, unwavering.

“Why shouldn’t I? Even Saihara admits it. You shouldn’t be afraid to state the truth, you know, Hajime,” you replied ominously.

He looked away from those penetrating eyes of yours.

“I...know that already. I don’t need you telling me that,” he said with a note of–what was it? Sadness? Anger? Resentment? Whatever it was, it wasn’t too pleasant, and you recoiled.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t underestimate you,” you said with a pleasantly sad smile plastered on your face. “In any case, could you tell me why this piece of paper has my name?”

He glanced at the paper, seeming to have forgotten it had even existed at any point.

“Isn’t it obvious? Himiko wanted to confess to you.” For several moments, the thought didn’t register in your hand. You simply couldn’t understand the notion–the idea or its implications. You had to do a double-take and look at the paper in question again, furrowing your eyebrows in overpowering confusion.

“Wait, what? Confess to me?”

Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose, looking fed-up with your dense demeanor and personality.

“Yes. Himiko likes you that way. We all are aware of how she feels toward you, by the way. Everyone knows except for you.”

You blinked several times in succession, trying to understand.

“Himiko...likes me?”

Hajime rolled his eyes.

“God knows why, with a personality like yours. I’ll bet she’s tried confessing before but just couldn’t break through your dense mind. If I were her, I would have given up on you and moved on to someone else already, especially being as lazy as she is. She must have wasted so much time and effort trying to tell you already.”

You puffed up your cheeks in annoyance.

“Hey! That was unnecessary and unkind. Didn’t you ever learn the acronym THINK in elementary school? N stands for necessary and K stands for kind, you know. I thought I could count on you to be chiefly rational rather than spiteful.”

He shrugged.

“Hey, you’re the one who told me to tell the truth.”

Now you were frustrated.

“Okay, cut the back-talk already,” you groaned. “I don’t need another running speech about how unworthy I am of receiving affection when I’ve already got two of them, one from myself and one from Kokichi. Since when has Himiko liked me anyway? And how do you all know this for sure?”

He threw his hands up.

“How do we all know? It’s painfully obvious! You’re just extraordinarily dense. Or maybe you’ve got super resistance to telltale signs, words, or actions of love.”

You put a hand on your hip and sassed him right back.

“Well, excuse me for not having a love-radar sticking up from my head like you do,” you said while pulling hard on his ahoge threateningly.

“Hey, that hurts!” Hajime smacked your hand away from the piece of hair sticking up from his head. “And what did you just call it? A love-radar? That’s just a strand of my hair that happens to naturally stick up! There’s nothing weird about it! Naegi has one, and so does Saihara! For that matter, even Akamatsu and Iruma have one. It’s completely normal,” he complained. “Why does everyone always have to point it out?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, maybe because a single strand of hair sticking up from your head isn’t completely normal in the least?”

He grimaces, but doesn’t further divulge into the topic.

“Anyway, let’s not talk about my hair. Let’s go back to your love affairs. Has Himiko ever said that she likes you? Or given you something romantic in nature? Or maybe given you a private magic show, even?”

You thought back, eyes looking upward in contemplation.

“I mean, platonically. Everything was platonic. At least, I thought it was!” You said, putting a hand to your chin.

Hajime only groaned in response.

“It’s official: you’re the worst human being alive. And if not the worst, at least the dumbest one. She didn’t mean any of that as friends. And how could you even think she’d give you a private magic show while just being a friend? She doesn’t do that for anyone, period. She’s way too lazy to do something like that, setting up all her props and using her energy to do magic just for one person. She only gives magic shows like...twice a year.”

You shoot finger guns at him, grinning.

“Wait, you’re right! That is true about Himiko. She’s the laziest girl I’ve ever met. Or person in general. I guess I need to think about it from someone else’s perspective if I want to understand them better…”

Hajime rubbed his head.

“You should consider the character of other people more carefully if you want to discern truth from lies, or their intentions from how they act toward you. You can even understand how they feel about you if you take their personality into factor more often. After all, everyone has a different ‘normal’ way of going about things and treating people.”

You nod, taking his words into your stride.

“Okay, okay… So that’s how you’ve got so many friends,” you beamed. “You understand them best, don’t you?”

His cheeks turn pink, unexpectedly.

“I’m just a normal person, and you’re just abnormally dense,” he replies. “You should be the Ultimate Dense Love Target.”

You shake your head.

“Nah, I’d never get that kind of thoughtful advice from my friends. Hajime, you shouldn’t ever think that you’re just a normal person. There are so many things in this world that only you can do,” you say, keeping a straightforward gaze and making eye contact with him.

He puts a hand to the back of his neck bashfully.

“I am, though. I’ve got no Ultimate Talent, either.”

You shake your head again, more adamantly.

“That’s wrong, Hajime. Hope’s Peak Academy isn’t flawless, isn’t a god. They can’t discern all talents, and some talents aren’t conventional. But no matter what, you should know that you’ve got something in you just as special as any Ultimate here.”

His eyes light-up for only a second before turning dark again, and he breaks eye contact with you.

“Don’t say that. Don’t give me any false hopes about myself. I know I’ll never be anything more than this, and I’m tired of being disappointed, most of all by myself.”

You slap your hands on his cheeks, pushing them to the center and squishing his lips as he cries out, muffled.

“Stop being mean to my friend!” You shout at his bewildered expression, squashed toward the center of his face. “I rely on you all the time for your calm logic, and I’ve told you face-to-face just how big of an impact you make every day. You are the only person in this goddamn school that has literally befriended every student! All these Ultimates have bizarre, contrasting personalities that clash just being in the same room as each other, but somehow your presence calms them down, and somehow you manage to get along with them all. You might as well be a part of Nagito and Chiaki’s class, for god’s sake!”

You start crying for some reason or other, let go of his face and wrap your arms around his torso tightly.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, only becoming more supremely confused by the minute.

“Because my friend doesn’t love himself, even though he’s so loved by everyone in this entire building! And especially me! I love you, Hajime Hinata!” You manage to say amidst your wobbling voice cracking and another bout of tears falling from your eyes.

He puts his arms around you gently.

“Hey, stop yelling like that. You’re going to damage your vocal cords,” he says, but his voice is getting a little shaky, too. He can’t help it. He’s a sympathetic crier, after all. A boy as empathetic as him would definitely absorb the onslaught of the emotions of others around him. Especially when their head was snuggled right into his chest.

He sighs.

“So what do you want me to do about it, anyway? I’m not an Ultimate. I can’t change that.”

You grasp him tighter.

“And you never may well be an Ultimate. In all honesty. But you don’t need that acknowledgment from a third-party to know that you’re loved for a reason. I just wish you would love yourself, too,” you respond.

He smiles, doubtful.

“So you want me to change my attitude toward myself?”

You nod, head buried in his chest.

“Yes, please. That’d be nice.”

Hajime seems to hesitate for a moment before answering.

“Well, no guarantees...but I can certainly try.”

You look up at him from your hold on him, face only inches away from his.

“That’s all I need right now,” you say, a warm smile coming out on your face like the sun comes out from behind clouds of rain.

He pats your head resignedly.

“Yeah, yeah. I thought you needed love advice?”

You let go of him reluctantly.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. What do I do now?” You look at him pleadingly, searching for an answer.

He smiles.

“Well, you should know better than me how you feel. If you don’t like Himiko in a romantic way, you should just reject her outright, so she doesn’t have to suffer as much or worry about it. And if you do like someone else, you should confess, because our time here is so short. Three years go by so quick, and our first year is already almost over.”

You nod, drying your face of the wetness from earlier.

“Okay… That sounds like a good plan of action. Except that I might as well not confess to the person I like, since there’s a 99.99% chance I’m getting rejected,” you laugh wryly.

Hajime puts his hands on your shoulder firmly.

“Hey, you should believe in yourself. And if the person doesn’t like you back, you shouldn’t be too disappointed because everyone is different, and the person you happen to like is pretty…” he trails off. “I mean, it’s Ouma, so… Well, let’s just say that I don’t understand your choice, but I’ll fully support you!” He says, clapping you on the back in a show of this support.

You pout.

“I don’t control who I like! And how do you know who I like, too?! Maybe you’re an Ultimate Love Advisor!”

The two of you look at each other and burst into uproarious laughter.

Wiping his tears from his eyes after laughing too hard, he manages to choke out a couple words.

“I’ve got a lot of Ultimate talent suggestions, but none as ridiculous as that!”

The two of you manage to calm down eventually, and you link your arm around his, as you two walk out of the building together.

You look at him from your vantage point of height and offer him a grateful smile.

“Thanks so much for being here for me, Hajime. What would I do without you?”

He strokes his chin in mock thoughtfulness.

“Hmm… Never find out that Himiko likes you? Or that anyone likes you in the future? And remain single forever?”

You punch his arm lightly, tsking.

“Geez, I wasn’t asking for a serious answer! But I told you, didn’t I? You’re probably about the most helpful and reliable person in this whole school, and trustworthy. Must be why all those Ultimates gather around you, dontcha think?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then catches himself before saying anything self-degrading.

“Well, I guess I must be doing something right, in that case,” he sputters.

You laugh.

“Something right, indeed.”

Hajime walks you to your house, like a gentleman, and you wave goodbye from the safety and comfort of your home until he disappears into the horizon of the orange, setting sun.

It was time for a plan of action. You spend hours on the computer, writing out what you can say to talk to Himiko and later on Kokichi, trying to imagine their reactions and prep for the worst while hoping for the best.

At some point in the night, you figure you had better get some sleep before the next day arrived. You were never going to execute your plan well if you were sleep-deprived. You tuck yourself into your bed, safe and sound, and fall asleep.

The next day, you had to pump yourself up some more. You made sure to spruce up your uniform more than usual, spraying a hint of your favorite scent in body mist on your neck and wrists, and made sure you felt well-prepared for whatever was coming next today.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you placed your hands on your hips and held your chest high, repeating some affirmations to yourself and trying to shake the anxiety wracking you from inside.

You looked good.

With that, you started walking to school, and when you arrived, you sought out the Ultimate Magician.

“Himiko?”

She jumped in her seat, unusually shaken. Sweating slightly, she avoided your gaze.

“Y-yeah?”

You placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“Can I talk to you about something before class starts?”

She looks hesitant, but her head bobs up and down in response, her red hair fluffing up.

“Okay...but make it quick, since we’ve got class.”

You smile reassuringly.

“Great. Let’s head up to the roof?”

She nods again, and the two of you traverse through the hallways and up to the peak of the academy, greeting other Ultimates on your journey up.

The wind is pleasantly warm, a spring wind, and you take a deep breath before starting to talk to Himiko, who looks like she’s shaking in her boots.

“First of all… I want to let you know that I’m incredibly grateful for your friendship this past year. I hope we can continue to be friends now and in the future, even if that sounds selfish after I say what I’m going to next.”

You reach into your pocket and take out the tattered note, unfolding it and holding it out to Himiko.

“I found this yesterday,” you say, gauging her reaction carefully. “This is yours, right?”

Sure enough, her complexion turned white.

“Did you already see what was written on it?” she asks, voice quivering.

You nod in confirmation, looking at her golden eyes directly.

“Thank you for loving me,” you smile warmly. “I don’t know how or why you’d like someone like me, especially seeing how dense I am, as Hajime pointed out, but I’m thankful for your love,” you say, putting a hand over your heart tenderly. “I wish I could do the same for you, but I will always love you as a friend.”

Himiko says nothing for a moment, her short skirt blowing in the wind, and her eyes gaze off into the distance.

“...That wasn’t the way I wanted to confess,” she finally says. Her voice is more nasal than usual, and you realize that she must be suppressing tears. You open your arms, and she collapses into your chest, sobbing. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to confess! But you were so dense, I knew you’d never get it unless I spelled it out that clearly.”

You pat her head, feeling a bittersweet guilt rise to your smile.

“I’m sorry I’m so dense. You’ve worked hard, haven’t you? I’ve caused you a lot of trouble,” you replied, holding the little witch firmly.

She didn’t respond, only crying harder, her tears soaking into your top.

After a good amount of time had passed, she finally calmed down, and her eyes were rimmed with red and somewhat puffy.

“I don’t have ice to make the swelling of your eyes go down,” you say. “But my hands are pretty cold. Is that okay?”

She nods, still shivering. You gently place your hands on her eyes, and she melts at your touch but doesn’t cry.

When she’s finally ready, the two of you walk to class together. There was hardly a minute before classes started for the day.

You were relieved that you had gotten one item on the checklist done for the day, at least. It was probably the most difficult thing to do–for you, probably even more difficult than confessing to Kokichi. Or not. You guessed you’d have to wait and see how that would go, although you were sure you’d be rejected.

You ended up spacing out for most of the class, doodling on your notebook pictures of Kokichi’s lively, twirling purple hair, and trying to prepare yourself for whatever reaction you would get by visualizing possible scenarios. You sighed for the fourth time in a row, considering the low success rate during the homeroom time.

“Eh? What’s wrong? Nishishi,” the purple leprechaun in question laughed, putting his face way too close to you for comfort and examining your downcast expression.

You jerk your head back abruptly in surprise, feeling your ears tinge red, and slam your notebook shut.

“K-Kokichi! You’re too close.”

He makes a hurt looking face, his bottom lip sticking out and wobbling as his violet eyes filled with tears.

“Wow, was that mean. I’m so hurt!” he whined. “You don’t wanna be close to me that much, I get it,” he pouted.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

“No, it’s just that you surprised me. You always end up surprising me, somehow,” you reply. And then you remember your plans. “Oh yeah! Perfect timing, though. Can you come to the roof after class is over? I want to talk to you in private.”

His eyes are surprisingly devoid of emotion before he gives you a smug smile.

“Oh? You’re calling me out there? Is it to beat me up or something? Well~” he sings. “If it’s you calling me to the roof, I guess I can’t refuse!” And he skips back to his seat, just like that.

He seemed to change at the drop of a hat–and that was part of what made you so attracted to him, despite his…lively antics that would disrupt your train of thought or even class, and his lies that made you unable to read him.

You could hardly wait for homeroom to end so you could go to the roof. You just wanted to get this over with, and you gripped your pencil tightly. You had no idea what to expect, given Kokichi’s unpredictable and volatile nature. He was like a bomb waiting to explode. The whole confessing situation was like a bomb waiting to explode, after all.

The moment class was dismissed and the bell rang, you shot out of your seat and sprinted to the roof. You knew he wouldn’t get there that quick unless he ran like you did, but even so, you felt like dawdling on over would only serve to make you even more anxious.

You leaned your folded arms on the iron handrail lining the roof, looking down at the buildings below and the students slowly filing out of the school. The sun felt good on your skin after a day of being stuck in class, and you looked up into the endless stretches of blue, clouded minimally with streaks of white that only enhanced its beauty.

You heard the door to the roof opening, and then closing as soon it was opened and turned to face the person walking toward you from the door.

He had a devious smile pasted on his face.

“You sure rushed to get up here,” he laughs, putting a finger to his remarkably pale cheek. “Were you that excited to see me? Even though you see me in class all the time anyway.”

You steeled yourself. Best just get it over with, no beating around the bush.

“As a matter of fact, I was,” you say, biting your lower lip nervously. But before you could continue to speak, he interrupted, holding his hands out in a show of grandeur and grinning.

“Wow! That makes me so, so happy…” he trails off. “Or does it?” He started to twirl a strand of hair around his finger, and you start to realize why his hair curls upward like that so whimsically. In the pause, you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off again. “Why’d you call me here, anyway?” he says, looking disinterested. “Is it something you can’t say or do normally in the classroom? If it’s something boring, I’m not going to forgive you, ya know?”

For some reason, you felt an oppressive aura coming out from his lithe frame and suddenly felt like he didn’t want you to confess. But you had come this far. You weren’t going to give up.

Noticing your change in expression, his eyes meet yours.

“Fine. It seems like you’re not going to give up on saying whatever it is you want to say. So just spit out then.”

You didn’t even know why he was being so prickly about it. But you had decided to say it.

“I like you, Kokichi,” you manage to say. “As more than a friend.”

Somehow, the moment was less world-changing than you thought it’d be. No horns blowing in celebration of the fact that you’d finally spit it out, exaggerated reactions, or any of Kokichi’s fake crying.

He simply adopts a blank expression, silent for a couple of moments. Then he sighs and looks at the ground, the corners of his mouth sinking down.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he replies. “I didn’t think you’d be so boring as to do something like this.”

He turns to leave, but you dart forward and grasp his hand before he can open the door. He’s agile, but when you come at him unexpectedly, his reactions aren’t as fast.

“Wait! What do you mean by that, Kokichi?”

You desperately call out, and slowly, his head swivels and his plum eyes meet yours once again. He looks completely apathetic–as if he weren’t involved at all, even though you had just revealed to him that he was, in fact, the object of your love. And it’s all you can do to keep yourself from breaking down on the moment, feeling hurt gathering in your heart, confusion swarming in your mind.

“You know, don’t you?” he says. You never thought a face of his could make you feel so wounded before. You were slowly realizing the gravity of your attraction to him. A simple change in facial expression could so gravely hurt you.

“Know what?” You tried to convey your true confusion to him, but he wasn’t having it.

“You know what I mean. Someone put you up to this. Or maybe, in some sick and twisted side of you that I never knew you had, you thought it’d be fun to confess to me, see if I believe it and laugh if I do.” He offers a bright smile with bitter undertones. “I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of such a cruel lie.”

You shake your head adamantly, feeling tears come to your eyes.

“No! Never! I… I’m telling the truth. Why won’t you believe me?”

He seemed to lose all sympathy for you at that one moment.

“Your tears aren’t going to convince me, ya know. It’d take much more than that. I see right through things like that,” he replies with a hardened look. “You should remember who you’re talking to. Are you going to let go of me or not?”

You avert your gaze, but don’t let go of his hand.

“I can’t. Not until I get a proper answer from you. I don’t even know exactly why I like you,” you stumble over your words. “I mean, I love that you’re so full of contradictions, the way you’ll dole out lies like candy, but tell the truth unexpectedly when it’s needed most. I love that you’ll always give off the impression of a trickster, a troublemaker, that maybe you’ve done things that belie your appearance, but at heart, you’ve got morals and principles you stick to no matter what.”

He seemed genuinely surprised, and with no interruption this time, you lifted your eyes to take in his self. A boy with deep purple eyes and equally purple hair, dressed in a white uniform that has extra buttons and buckles just for fun, and a checkered scarf around his neck.

“I love all the different faces you make, even when you make them at a time like this and hurt me so. I love the way your hair lifts out and upward like that, and your…” you blush. “Your thin frame.”

He seems to have frozen in shock. It was your first time ever seeing him like this. You took another breath and finished off your little speech.

“I love you, Kokichi Ouma, and goddammit if anyone, especially you, is going to tell me that I don’t know my own feelings for you,” you shout, scaring away the birds on the wires nearby.

Kokichi stood there like a statue. It was so rare to see him not have some kind of exaggerated response to something, especially something as charged as this.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and he put a hand to his mouth in bewilderment. Another moment passed, and he finally spoke, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“So you’re not lying, after all?”

You shook your head again.

“My only question is why you’d think I was lying,” you say honestly, throat slightly hoarse, and let go of his hand now that you’re sure he won’t escape.

He bites the nail of his thumb in frustration.

“Well, maybe it was you hugging Hajimeme at the school entrance and shouting that you love him at the top of your lungs so loudly that I could hear it a block away.”

Your eyes were wide open now.

“You heard that? I don’t think I was that loud. Also, that was completely platonic. I was just trying to convince him to love himself, too, since basically our whole school loves him.”

He blinks his eyes rapidly and lets out a mix of a groan of exasperation.

“How could you do this to me?” he whines, and tugs on your sleeve persistently. “And, I mean, before the whole Hajimeme thing I didn’t think you could like me anyway. You spent a lot of time with Himiko, who obviously liked you, so I thought it was mutual.”

You pull him into your arms, feeling guilt stabbing at your chest.

“I’m sorry… I feel like I’ve been hurting a lot of people recently.”

Kokichi doesn’t speak for a moment and then replies quietly.

“Between you and me… I didn’t think it was possible for someone to like me. Because I’m me, after all. The Ultimate Supreme Leader,” he says, withdrawing and cackling, making an otherworldly, sinister expression. But then he looks vulnerable again. “But I’m just a high school boy, too. I’m human, as loathe as I am to admit it,” he confesses.

You think about his words before saying anything back.

“Well, I was super surprised Himiko liked me. I didn’t find out until yesterday, even though Hajime said that just about everyone knew that she liked me.”

He seems to be back to his usual self as he cracks up, tears dropping from his eyes in pure amusement.

“You didn’t know this entire time? Wow, you really are denser than I thought.” He then gazes into your eyes, looking somewhat serious again. Until you hear the next words emerging from his mouth, that is. “So then, how long did it take for you to figure out you like me, in that case?” he smirked.

You start coughing, taken by surprise and embarrassment bubbles up and overflows from inside you.

“That’s.. That’s not fair, you can’t ask that now!” you reply, trying to regain your senses.

He cackles.

“You’re embarrassed now after you confessed to me and listed off everything you liked about me? Oh, boy. Looks like I’ve got a troublesome s/o on my hand.”

You don’t register those words at once. Motionless, you feel the heat rising up again and put your hands to your cheeks in both giddiness and embarrassment.

“K-Kokichi? Does that mean what I think it means?”

He looks contemplative for a moment before replying.

“Aw, it accidentally slipped out,” he sighs. “I wanted to tease you a little longer since your reactions are so amusing. But I guess this expression is pretty nice, too,” he says as he steps closer and closer to you.

You close your eyes out of shyness and feel soft lips land on your own, surprisingly gentle–until he bit your lower lip lightly, and you opened your eyes, only to see his face right in front of yours.

“Kokichi! You’re… you’re too close!” you say, backing up.

But in response, he only walks closer until you hit the wall of the storage room on the roof, seeming to have fun cornering you, as a cat might play with their prey.

“Oh? But you’re my s/o now, doesn’t that mean I can do whatever I want to you?”

You shake your head, blushing deeply.

“Of course not! Don’t tease me like that…”

He only laughs.

“Trust me, there’s gonna be a lot of that going on now that you’re my s/o. Best get used to it,” he says smugly before leaning in for another kiss.

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