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can you feel my heart? (cut version)

It’s foreign. I don’t get like this. I’ve been through a little bit of everything—identity modification, crime, death, grief, sex, limbo—and this is the thing that leaves me lost for words. I don’t get it. The silence stretches on for too long. It’s uncomfortable and I have to break it as soon as possible but no words are leaving my mouth. So, I pick the easiest and dumbest possible option: kissing them.

I posted an 18+ shima/kokichi fic on ao3 today, but also it has so many VIBES, so here is a cut version that takes out the beginning part that makes it explicit and bumps it down to a mature (16+) rating instead.

enjoy :>

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“Come here.”

I don’t bother opening my eyes. “And what?” I blink my eyes open when I feel their weight on the bed disappear. They’re bending over me, one of their hands digging beneath my back and the other below my knees. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Shima lifts me up from the bed without breaking a sweat. Their body is even smaller than mine. I try to find somewhere to hold onto them and I cannot say it’s working out well.

“Bath. You were thinking about it,” they answer, walking to the door and urging it open with their foot.

I don’t think about how I resign myself to leaning into their neck. “Because you wanna drown me…” I just realized that Shima is carrying me naked through a hallway and I’m just letting them do it and the amount that this would not have been happening however long ago is so much. Being in their arms isn’t… that terrible, I guess, even if it’s cold and weird.

They don’t answer my halfhearted quip. We reach the bathroom and they put me down on the sink, spinning to turn the water on. I’m a tiny bit surprised when they don’t either turn it all the way to the left or make it way too cold. They actually miraculously turn it to a normal temperature and plug it up before returning to my side. I feel a smirk rise on my face when they fill up a glass of water and rinse out their mouth. They’re doing normal human stuff. I wonder when that started.

“Are you gonna clean me?” I ask. “Is this the aftercare phase?”

Shima glances up at me. “I have something to show you.” I rub my eye a little and listen. I hear them breathe in through their nose and let it out slowly, the sound of water running filling the space. They close a grip at the bottom of their black shirt, shut their eyes and slowly start to peel it upwards. My hand shoots out on its own to stop them.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Seriously? I was starting to think you were gonna be a skeleton under there,” I tell them. “Why is this happening all of a sudden?”

They peer right through all my intentions. “I’m not forcing myself. I’m trying something. It might not be permanent.” I pull my hand away. For some reason, my chest swells up as they continue, pulling the shirt higher. I can see their skin. Why am I nervous? I didn’t know this was possible, but I think they might be nervous, too. It’s infectious.

The shirt comes off. I immediately notice the dense, veiny patch of black, much like the color of their claws, sprouting out from their heart, stretching over their shoulders and lower torso and darkening the spaces around it. I can see their ribs when they breathe. I can see how everything connects and matches their face like a complete circuit. I can see the places where their claws blend back into their skin on their forearms. I didn’t know what to expect, but it feels like something sliding into place. They’re so… interesting. Once again, I am grappling with the fact that my first instinct is to reach out and touch them. Oh, god. They’re half-naked. I can see them. They don’t just have a skeleton under their clothes.

… I’ve been alone with them too long. I’m a goddamn mess.

Shima shifts slightly. Anxiously? Again, is that a thing? Do they have actual insecurities? After all this time, this is the thing that does it for them?

“I felt… I could get closer this way,” Shima utters. “To you.” They reach out one of their hands, taking one of mine and pulling it towards them. It stops at the center of the tangle on their chest, right above their heart. Their cold skin prickles mine. “Can you feel that?” Thumping. “My heart.”

“I… guess you’re not that dead,” I reply with a laugh, desperately trying to stave off the fact that I feel like an awkward disaster. It’s foreign. I don’t get like this. I’ve been through a little bit of everything—identity modification, crime, death, grief, sex, limbo—and this is the thing that leaves me lost for words. I don’t get it. The silence stretches on for too long. It’s uncomfortable and I have to break it as soon as possible but no words are leaving my mouth.

So, I pick the easiest and dumbest possible option: kissing them. I get to feel their shoulders and back and neck under my palms as it happens. I get to make a memory of their cold, soft skin on my fingertips and the way that their shoulder blades move when they draw closer, careful not to cut me on their teeth, and the way that they breathe against my upper lip when I absentmindedly graze their side and abdomen. It should have been so easy to break to silence and move on, but something compelled me. Curiosity. Interest. Habit?

Also I’m naked.

“Your hands are warm,” Shima says.

“Your everything is cold.” Cold and giving me goosebumps.

“I’m putting you in the water before this derails.” Shima scoops me up again and starts walking towards the tub. They lower down, bending one knee, gently laying me on the edge like I’m not perfectly capable of moving myself.

Okay, maybe I can’t do that as well as I thought right now.

They start walking away towards their discarded shirt and I impulsively reach out and grab their wrist. When they turn back and give me this look, I glance where I’m holding them and realize I walked into this.

“I was going to get you something to drink,” Shima tells me.

I slide into the water and stare at them blankly. “Get in.”

Shima glances down at their feet and back at me. Maybe they weren’t planning on taking off the bottom half.

I pull my hand back, my eyes darting to their remaining clothes. “Just—” I start, looking to the right towards the wall. My voice gets caught in my throat. “I’ll look this way. Get in behind me. I won’t look.” There’s a pause. I’m not looking to see whatever incredulity is humbly flashing over their face. When I shut my eyes, I start to hear the quiet shuffling of clothes. They step in and the water jostles. They sink in. Shima reaches out to touch my shoulder and my eyes open immediately, a trail of goosebumps shooting up on my skin, and they retract their hand. In whatever configuration they’re sitting, it’s slightly odd and doesn’t entirely fit, especially because they’re trying not to touch me. I don’t turn my head. It’s stifling.

“I didn’t really think this through,” I end up saying, my legs drawn in.

“I know,” they reply. There are a few more beats of silence. I yelp when I suddenly feel their hands on my ribs, pulling me closer beside their legs, which are pressed together to my right. I kind of slip and grab the edge of the tub, landing gracelessly with the back of my head on their collarbone. They breathe into my hair, wrap their arms around my torso and lean against the wall behind them. I think their legs are shaking a little bit. It’s unusual.

Really internalizing that they’re wearing nothing and we are actually skin-to-skin is not doing me any favors right now, but they’re also so… comfortable. I’m gonna take a nap on them.

I’m adrift in quiet thoughts when a particular idea floats in and out of my mind. I don’t have the energy to resist it or deny it. Shima holds me just a bit tighter. Their fingers glide absentmindedly on my abdomen while I swim through the muttering in my head.

It’s nice to have you here.

Is it?

Thanks for not leaving me alone.

What if I were? What if I am?

You’re alone, Kokichi. You always will be.

Shima presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m here,” they say, reaching for one of my hands and interlacing our fingers together. My eyes drift down to them.

Why do you treat me this way?

Why did things turn out this way?

“I am here,” they whisper again. “Rest.” My eyes fall shut and the thought repeats. They raise our hands and kiss my wet knuckles. Their affection has become so slow and methodical.

Do you love me?

What happened to you?

Another hush whistles through their teeth, slightly disjointed in tone. Sickness crawls in the pit of my stomach. My eyes are stinging. I jerk my hand closer to cover my face, trying to squint out of it. It’s burning my throat. Not again.

Do I…

Terror.

Shima’s forehead presses down against my shoulder and they squeeze me with both arms. They’re shaking. It’s almost enough to distract me from my own. They’re so silent, but I can feel wetness dripping down my shoulder. I want to open my mouth. Desperately, I want to think of something to say to blanket the wrenching in my chest. “Trying to infect me with your…” My voice comes out more broken than I expected. “Contagious crying. Well, I’ve developed an immunity, so…” It’s like pathetic choking and I self-consciously rub my throat. Shima gently kisses my neck. It makes matters worse. The spot where their lips touched seeps under my skin and travels through me, burning a trail. A tear escapes my eye and I flinch to wipe it. “It’s pointless. You’ll never win.”

Shima’s voice is quiet. “Thank you for being here,” they say.

I turn my head in their direction, only able to catch a glimpse of their shoulder from this angle. “You? Me? What?” A laugh breaks through my uncooperative voice. “You’re the one who’s here.”

“I wanted you to know.”

I let out a huff. “Sap.” I press my lips together, oddly anxious to turn around and look at them, but I don’t. My heart’s hitting hard against my chest and it won’t slow. I feel like I should say something. Something different. I know it doesn’t really make a difference, but maybe it could. In one swift movement, I grasp their hand again and realize I’m walking into another one of those things that I hate being in the middle of. “… You are here. Got it?”

They tuck their head beside mine. “Yes.”

My scratchy voice is hard to navigate. “If you ever go away… You’ll become the enemy of my whole entire evil organization. Not even you would stand a chance against it. Your… your soul, your life, it’s…” I trail off. It feels weirder and weirder the more I let the words run.

I don’t really mean it, of course.

I don’t.

“Yours,” they finish, whispering in my ear. Heat crawls down my neck.

Ah, fuck.

“… Was gonna say forfeit,” I mumble.

Shima fingers through my hair again, brushing over my scalp. I relax into it almost automatically. “No, you weren’t.” I don’t feel like making any more words. I just breathe a sigh, letting my eyes shut again and head tilt to the side, trying to ignore the way my brain is dancing in circles again, hyper aware of the one behind me who has crept into my mind and body, holds me firm and cares.

Don’t think about it.

I don’t want to know.

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