#maekouki

[nyxigill]

Sketchbook maekoukis for the soul ( @11kit-maim-rue11 )

[pk-l0ve-f0rever]

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind but Maeko and Kouki 😳😳😳😳

[maekita-love-forever]

'Kouki bites Maeko for 24 hours straight' Release when

kouki bites Maeko for 24 hours straight NOW

[11kit-maim-rue11]

from Kouki to Maeko. 

From Kouki to Maeko. 

FROM KOUKI

TO

MAEKO.

FGSGDDNNDDJDJEJNENHEHEHEHEHDHHD !!!

[l0ve-f0rever]

((An untitled (for now) Maekouki fic that took place the previous night.))

Kouki Sawakita bursts downstairs mere minutes after an anon pointed out yet another thing Maeko can’t do right, holding five journals and wearing comically thick glasses, for some reason. He looks enough like an adorable soggy twink version of Kyoya Ootori to distract Maeko from the issue at hand for a moment. Now that she thinks about it, maybe that’s the reason. 

“Kouki, what are you-“ 

“Showing you the list of times you did something right,” he replies, putting four of the journals down on the coffee table to scan the pages of the other. 

“Kouki, you don’t have to-“ 

“September 8!” he shouts over Maeko’s concern. “You got a 92 on a pop quiz that I… well, my score on that quiz is irrelevant. The point is that it was brutal, and you somehow managed to get a high score I… couldn’t.” 

“That was unfair. The teacher must hate you or something, even though you’re impossible to hate once someone gets to know you and I will not hear otherwise, but how else would you get a negative t- tests don’t matter!”

“Alright then,” Kouki continues. “Also September 8. On our way home, you stopped three people from punching me in the face, and one businessman in a rush from running into oncoming traffic.” 

“He probably wouldn’t have-“ 

“As a side note, you’ve saved me from oncoming traffic one hundred nineteen times, and I know for a fact that I would not have noticed and been hit at least eighty three of them.” 

Kouki proceeds to flip through the notebook more and more frantically, adjusting his oversized glasses as they slip continuously before letting them fall off of his nose and onto the floor. He’s too adorable for his own good when he gets like that. He looks so squeezable- but if Maeko squeezed him, he’d probably end up crushing his bones. Everything she does ends up hurting him in the end, doesn’t it?

“September 9th- okay, what the hell? I really need to take better notes- there’s an entire page that’s just various biting related sound effects. I was definitely having a strange evening, because no matter how amazing it is when you ‘bite chomp chew munch num nom nom offu offu nibble nom munch munch lick lick nibble chew chomp bite’- you get the point, right? The point is that it isn’t exactly important.” 

“It’s always important,” Maeko responds, mentally nibbling at his shoulder. He’d probably end up biting too hard, if she actually nibbled- tearing straight through his flesh and hurting him like he always does.

“Well, I- wow- um- that’s not the point!” Kouki is so cute when he awkwardly blushes and turns away like that, desperately flipping through the pages of his journal. “The point is- what the hell was I even trying to get to? The next page is more biting sound effects- how many pages did I fill with this shit? Okay, we’re at ten, twenty- and oh, here’s something new- damnit, it’s just tally marks for ‘the number of times your cat ears flicked in 24 hours on September 10’. How sidetracked did I even get? Screw it. I’m improvising.”

Kouki drops the journal, seemingly deciding that if he’s holding something, it might as well be Maeko’s hands. 

“Maeko” slips out- not a gasp anymore, but a sigh. The moment Kouki holds her hands, his expression relaxes, and Maeko can tell he’s resisting the urge to melt into him. Really, he’s adorable when he’s flustered- but it’s the moments she snaps him out of his thoughts that Maeko cherishes the most. 

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping, Maeko- and I realize now that I probably should have been more honest about the reason,” Kouki says as Maeko fights the urge to get lost in his eyes. “Or- well, there are a lot of reasons, really- but my nightmares are one of them. Honestly, I thought it was normal to have them daily until an anon mentioned it wasn’t.” 

“You have nightmares, and I made them worse, because everything I do manages to fuck you up somehow-” “I love you, Maeko, and only one part of that is correct.” 

“But- but you- and I didn’t know- how did I not know, Kouki? I fucked it up, I fucked you up, I-” “Well, isn’t it obvious? You didn’t know when you watched me from afar because I didn’t sleep more than once or twice a week. My reasoning was that I wanted to keep my eyes open to Teruhashi’s radiance as much as possible, and parting from that radiance was hell even in my subconscious.” 

“Oh, Kouki, you-” “Sorry about that!” he tries to force a shaky smile onto his expression before letting go of this hope with a sigh before looking down at Maeko’s hands. “I know you were taking my example.” 

“Kouki, my issues were not your fault.” 

“You fucking hypocrite,” Kouki mouths, pulling Maeko in- and yeah, he is. They always have been. Someday, they won’t be. 

“Fair enough,” Maeko mumbles, brushing through his hair as he slowly pulls away to meet her eyes. 

“My nightmares aren’t your fault, either- and honestly, they haven’t been a problem as of late.” “Stop lying to me, Kouki.” 

“I’m not! Or- I was being intentionally vague. The nightmares themselves have been worse than usual, but I attributed that to sleeping more, and- well, other things.” The air between them grows heavier for a moment, and the slight loosening of Kouki’s grip speaks more than words ever could. In response, Maeko just holds his hands tighter. 

“They aren’t a problem anymore, though. Really, the reason you don’t know is because I usually fall asleep again pretty quickly afterwards.” Kouki’s eyes glimmer back into focus, and he finally manages a smile. “Because when I have them, I wake up next to you!” 

“You still have them, though,” Maeko whispers. There has to be something he can do to help. 

“I do,” Kouki replies, looking down just a little. “And- yeah, the melatonin probably made them a little worse, looking back, but- well, Maeko, you’ve still helped with them more than you know. If you hadn’t done at least a million things right in your life, I either still wouldn’t know they were nightmares or I wouldn’t be alive to have them.” 

Both of them had almost forgotten where they were, hugging in a living room with an appropriate amount of photos hanging from the walls and a rug that hasn’t been stained by blood, tears, vomit, or diarrhea for a month now. After the life they’ve both lived, it’s hard to remember what’s real sometimes- but as long as they can hold onto each other, they catch sight of reality soon enough. 

“That doesn’t change that I fucked up,” Maeko finally says, breaking the silence. 

“So? I love your fuckups.” 

Oh wow. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. Damnit, Maeko needs to think of a better line. 

“I love your fuckups more.” Kouki instantly begins to stammer, cheeks flooding with a familiar blush. Maeko wants nothing but to kiss that stupid, adorable expression off of his face- but Kouki beats him to it. 

His lips linger for longer than she expected, hands holding him so tightly something tells her he won’t be letting go for at least a few hours. Then, he pulls away with a smile that finally seems at least a little real. 

“Sheesh,” Kouki flirts. “‘I can’t do anything right’ this, ‘I love your fuckups more’ that- you really don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?”

“…I think I know what I’m talking about, at least when I’m talking about loving the most adorable man alive.” 

“Well, as the number one source on the most adorable man alive, I must dissent,” Kouki corrects, as Maeko puts all of her effort into not exploding into a billion gazillion pieces on the spot. “If you need proof of my credibility, feel free to take a look.” Kouki gestures to the abandoned stack of journals. 

“Half of those are filled with biting sound effects.” 

“You’re the one who said those were important.” 

“…I’m a sore loser, okay?” 

“You’re my sore loser.” 

Maeko explodes into 7 gazillion pieces. 

[lavalocks-peridotpeepers]

like is an understatement.

pretty sure Kouki loves it.

[l0ve-f0rever]

The Red Journal - Entry #6

My name is Kouki Sawakita, and I was an unremarkable guy until I woke up (yes, woke up) this morning, holding onto Maeko’s hand. 

I remember the third time I fell asleep in his arms; the first time I suffered from the agony of period cramps. It was quite similar to this, actually- although I was much more terrified, and there were many more pictures of the angel involved. 

I remember spending all day moaning the first time around; writhing in overplayed agony. However, for the most part, it only brought more pain upon me. Perhaps, this was yet another part of my mask. Perhaps, I thought I deserved to suffer for the time I’d bumped into the angel on accident without an Opal Crown membership to the Kokomins a year prior. All I know is that now, when the pain extends to every part of my body and mind; when it’s settled in my bones for so long that I can almost but not quite grow used to it, it’s exhausting and agonizing even to scream. 

So, while the first time I simply continued to moan as Maeko placed the weighted blanket on my body and hot water bottle on my head, this time around, all I could do was whisper “I’m doing it” just loud enough for Maeko to hear. 

Both times, she gave me a soft smile- but this time around, it reached his eyes. 

The first time, Maeko somehow carried me the entire route from my desk at school home- although I was barely conscious throughout this ride. I didn’t have to take a single step- all I had to do was feel the warmth of Maeko’s hands against my own agony, trace their every callus and scar, watch as the poetry I wrote in white journals focused less on the soft and smooth perfection of the hands of an angel, and more on their warmth, their texture- what it was actually like to be held through the pain. 

Honestly, it was everything. 

But last night, it was more than everything. 

It was Maeko, letting me take the walk home from school, despite my shaking knees and aching bones. Maeko, holding my hand so I could use him for balance when I needed to. Maeko, who had also been punched sixteen times before I could get her sent to the principal’s office for fighting. I’m not sure whether he knows it was me who reported her, but I do know that he’d say it was not my best moment. However, I would disagree. Maeko should know for a fact by now that the greatest act of self defense I could take was keeping him safe. 

I meant it when I said there was no saving me from yesterday- from the insults and praise, the watchful, empty eyes waiting for me to take the hits and play my part. I didn’t want Maeko taking hits meant for me when the physical blows were never what really hurt. 

I felt fine, really- until suddenly, I didn’t. 

It wasn’t until I was already home, hands clutched against a pen and eyes squinting down trying to read the letters on an algebra worksheet that made me want to rip my greying hairs out, that the agony crashed down upon me, and I found I couldn’t even move. Perhaps my cramps grew worse. Perhaps an old wound opened back up. Perhaps, it was a simple matter of inertia. All I know is that an agony so intense overwhelmed me that I wanted to scream, run, do something, anything- but suddenly, my eyes and my hands were all I could manuver without putting myself in too much agony to handle. 

All I could do was stop denying it. 

I don’t know what Maeko did, once I told him to leave. I doubt she did. All I could remember is that the world was lost, and I- I stopped paying attention to anything but my hands as they moved, detailed my pain, my crimes, my own iron will to live, live, live, live, live, live- 

-I live, and I called it my first reason. However, there is always the risk my story could end in tragedy. For now, my words are a promise- and promises mean nothing until they become proof. The day it is proof, I can call it a reason. 

I think I put too much weight on these abstract words sometimes- but they do have weight, don’t they? People still believe hollow apologies, false calls of divine justice. Words do inspire action, emotion, existence. After all, it was five words that saved me, and I know for a fact that I would not have seen the actions had I never heard the words. 

Words pile up- every insult, every name I have hurt, every title placed upon my undeniably unforgettable self crash down upon me like a 16 ton weight when I have math homework to get done- and suddenly, the words I’d nearly forgotten; homework, school, seventeen, child undeniably burden me too- no, they are knives cutting through the weights and into my crushed, broken heart- just like even the 11,472nd Kouki does. 

And my words will pile up until they are reasons. 

Until they are proof of the three words I managed to whisper to Maeko, once my pen fell out of my hand and I collapsed onto my desk with a clang that had him upstairs within a minute: “I’m doing it.” Or, at least, I’m doing what I can. When each move is painful, all I can do is write- write until the words pile up, until I can see them clearly on the page. I write until these words become actions: become lists, names, proof of a self I can be that can pick up others without dropping them, somehow know what words the people I care about need to hear- and say them, knowing they are true. 

I’ll say them like Maeko said those five words that saved me- softly, with a smile that reaches his eyes. I’ll say them like she said them after he’d lifted me up- not carrying me, but instead letting me balance on her shoulder as I took the four agonizing paces to bed. I’ll say them like Maeko did without words, brushing through and securing a hot water bottle onto my forehead, dimming the lights, taking a seat next to me. 

I’ll say them like Maeko did, through a long, one-sided conversation, rambling through his swollen lips about anything and everything she could think of (because though the Dark Prince never liked the sound of his voice, but I do. Because she knows I want to soak up every word that escapes his swollen lips- even if it hurts to speak sometimes, she knows I find myself addicted, hanging onto everything he says, desperately wishing I had the range of movement underneath the weighted blanket to write it down so I won’t forget. Though the Dark Prince may, I don’t want to forget a single moment of Maeko.) 

I want to say ‘I love you’ like I mean it. 

And- fuck, the first time around, I had the same thought, didn’t I? Although that time, Maeko carried me the whole way home, I was on the couch, and he sat just far enough away from me that he wouldn’t have to feel my breath, hear my heartbeat. 

I didn’t know how to say it then- and I still don’t, now. However, on that first occasion, I didn’t even know if I wanted to say it aloud. Those three words had meaning enough that they would launch me out of the blindness I had forced myself under with the angel’s radiance and into a world much larger and more terrifying- and really, when I was too much of a coward to say those words aloud and irrevocably set my story into motion, how could I have the right to know them? 

If I was too weak to say I love you in all the ways she does to a boy who stays by my side even when I could do nothing but scream, how could I ever mean them? 

Both times, I settled for holding onto her hand and refusing to let go. 

Both times, I fell asleep- and on the morning where I was burdened by only the weight of my mask and the agony of period cramps, Maeko began to sputter an apology as soon as I opened my eyes. He said something about how I just wouldn’t let go for some reason, how I must have thought she was the angel or something. But I knew that wasn’t the angel. The angel wouldn’t have carried me home, let me hold onto his hand, shown me affection in so many ways I never could have imagined, even if that love was for the Dark Prince then. I knew in that moment who my love belonged to- but in the end, I was too much of a coward to say it. In the end, I lied and let him believe I thought she was someone else. 

But damnit, I spent the next twenty nine hours praying to the angel and trying my best to forget that I wished I’d been able to say ‘I love you’ like I meant it. I wish I hadn’t left him apologizing to a lie. 

At least this time I woke up, burdened by more than period cramps- covered instead in insults, bruises, scars, scrapes, shattered pieces of a self that never was yet who cannot be undone, Maeko didn’t repent. 

Instead, she just said “Good morning, Kouki,” and I heard those words that saved me, that I tried so desperately to hide, then to find amidst layers of the mask which they had pierced once again. 

“Thanks, Maeko,” I replied, gripping his hand ever tighter- and I can only hope she heard their echoes. 

[lavalocks-peridotpeepers]

your boyfriend is being shipped with Teruhashi’s baby daddy and the guy who told him stalking was illegal

uhm he already has a very relationship but if they want to join!