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Feb 17, 2018

Valentine’s Chocolate

So... I’m sorry this is so late ><

I had meant to have this done by Valentine’s Day, but it ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated... (6,595 words)

Anyway!! This is a gift for @x0h-worm

The prompt was trans boys and Valentine’s Day fluff

Rated T I guess? For cursing and sexual imagery/innuendos

I hope you like it!!!!!!

Saihara and Ouma sat on the former’s bed with a laptop resting on their thighs. The two boys were tired from the long day at school, and deciding to spend the evening together, as most of the other students were going out. Saihara had changed into a black shirt and jeans, while Ouma wore an oversized sweater and dark leggings. The two were huddled together for warmth as even with the abundance of blankets, the cold from the faulty heating system could still be felt. For the two boys, being able to be alone together in private was like a sanctuary. They could take off their binders and complain about their families, or just play games and make jokes—jokes that they could only make with each other.

The two boys had begun hanging out together when they accidentally discovered that they were both trans. Ouma had broken into Saihara’s room, still for reasons he refuses to admit, while Saihara was changing shirts. Saihara began to panic, but Ouma quickly left and shut the door, waiting for him to exit on his own. Afterwards, when Saihara finally exited his room, Ouma consoled him both by explaining that he wouldn’t tell anyone, as he assumed that was what Saihara wanted, and that he was also trans. They started off by bonding over both being trans boys: talking about their situations growing up, where they got their binders, which haircuts would make them feel masculine but still cute at the same time, and so forth.

Over time, Saihara and Ouma were no longer just two trans boys connecting over their shared gender identity, but rather they became friends. Saihara had started to notice little tickles Ouma performed when lying, although barely visible to an untrained eye, but the detective saw them, and Ouma slowly became more willing to open up about himself to Saihara, even if only a little. It was a strange change to the others, they didn’t comprehend where their sudden friendship came from. Ouma had always appeared fascinated by Saihara, but the taller always seemed annoyed and exasperated by the shorter boy’s presence. Granted, that was true in the past, but because he had never given Ouma the time of day to really stop and consider him as his own person. With someone with such a grand air about them, it can be hard to remember they’re people too—like celebrities.

But the two had become close and cared deeply for the other. And that’s what’s led to this current moment: Saihara and Ouma sharing the small twin bed and way too many blankets, with a faint light from the computer screen illuminating their faces. The reason for this impromptu hang out was, in fact, because it was Valentine’s Day. Saihara usually spent time after classes studying with Momota and Harukawa or with Akamatsu, but the couple had date plans and Akamatsu had blushed and awkwardly stated that there was something that she needed to do. Ouma had, being just around the corner, overheard that Saihara was alone and didn’t want to leave his “beloved Saihara-chan” alone on such a night as this one. Saihara had chuckled softly at the other boy’s dramatic gestures, but accepted the invitation. It was, of course, totally platonic. And if Ouma had a bar of chocolate that, if asked, was totally from the school store in his bag, well, it was just obligation chocolate because he didn’t want his friend to feel lonely.

That was a lie of course.

Kokichi Ouma, the Super High School Level Supreme Leader, was gay.

And totally and irrevocably head-over-heels in love with Shuichi Saihara. He had always considered the other to be extremely pretty, and he enjoyed that he could never quite pin Saihara down. As in, he couldn’t always figure out his next choice of action. That’s what he meant by that. But as he spent time with Saihara, Ouma’s feelings grew and grew; they blossomed into what one could only call a crush. But Ouma preferred Panta. Don’t judge him, he deals with emotions by joking and lying.

“Are you warm enough?” Ouma looked over at the owner of the gentle voice and hummed in response.

“No way, Saihara-chan,” he sang, “it’s colder than Santa’s house in here! You need that pig whore Iruma-chan to make you a heater that calculates your body temperature and changes the room’s temperature appropriately,” he pouts. “If you don’t get a working heater soon I might never come back.”

Saihara rolled his eyes, but a faint smiled graced his lips and made Ouma’s heart melt, almost slipping into a smile himself. “If that’s the case then we could always go to your room,” he offered, knowing that Ouma was lying.

“We could’ve just done that from the start, you know,” he replied with a nonchalant air and monotone voice. Truthfully, he preferred being in Saihara’s room, despite the cold. It was cleaner than his and much easier to navigate, it reminded him of Saihara everywhere he looked, and, most importantly, the cold meant they had to cuddle super close. And Ouma sure as hell wasn’t lying when he says he enjoys the closeness of their bodies. Cuddling. For warmth. Because it’s February and February is fucking cold. “Geez, Saihara-chan is so mean, making me freeze to death in this cold!”

“If you’re so cold, why aren’t you using the blankets?” Saihara chuckled and nodded towards the abandoned pile.

“Oops,” Ouma cheered, “ya got me! Yeah, that was a lie.” He rested his hands behind his head and smiled. Saihara’s room might not have been as cold as the North Pole, but it was still cold. His mind was reeling with the fact that today was Valentine’s Day, the day one romance, love, and confessions. Pair that with his big gay crush, and he was somewhat distracted. He climbed under the blankets anyway, mumbling, “Or maybe that was a lie. Who knows?” Saihara just shook his head with a quiet laugh.

“You seem a bit distracted,” Saihara mentioned when Ouma was situation under the Super High School Level blanket pile. Of course his beloved Saihara-chan would notice that, but it wasn’t anything the supreme leader couldn’t lie or joke his way out of.

“No way,” tears started to form in his eyes as Ouma hiccupped and stuttered. “Could it… Could it be that Saihara-chan never realized my feelings?” he started to sob loudly. Overdramatic. The bigger he cried than the more it looked like a lie. Because Ouma couldn’t risk Saihara knowing the truth. He hated telling the truth, but for Saihara he tried. Sometimes. But not this. He didn’t want to lose the one person at the Ultimate Academy that took the time to look past his lies, to look past his façade, and befriend him.

“Ouma!” Saihara lunged his hands forward to grab the other’s shoulders. Ouma, in turn, just laughed.

“Neeheehee, Saihara-chan did you actually fall for that? Geez, I thought you were finally able to see through all my lies.” He started tearing up again, “does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

“Ouma,” Saihara sighed and retracted his hands back to his sides, “I just didn’t want you falling off the bed again.” He blushed and Ouma giggled. He had been fake crying just like now, but became too overzealous and slipped off of the too-small bed.

“Aw,” the supreme leader cooed, “was my beloved Saihara-chan worried about me?” His voice was airy and melodious, caring the tune of his usual lie, but at the same time it was thick with the hidden truths.

Saihara sighed. “Let’s just watch the movie,” he clicked on the mouse pad a few times before looking at Ouma. “Well? Are you going to join me?”

Ouma nodded and scooted closer to his friend. Saihara wiggled into the pillows to get comfortable and rested his head on Ouma’s shoulder, then pressed play. Saihara’s warmth seeped through Ouma’s clothes and it made him feel at home. He felt comfortable, having someone there with him, having Shuichi Saihara there with him. He took a deep breath and guided his eyes to the movie.

Usually, the two boys watched detective and action movies. Saihara liked the mystery of the cases and Ouma liked the thrill of watching the good guys fight to win. But today it seemed that Saihara had chosen to continue the theme of the day. That’s right: Ouma was about to watch a romcom with Saihara. Now, that’s nothing to freak out about. In fact, Ouma could easily complain about how boring the movie would be. But Saihara looked so content with the change of pace and Ouma was enchanted by the look on his face. God, this stupid crush was going to kill him. He might as well just ask Harukawa to save him the trouble.

A long-haired woman was running through an airport. Ouma watched as her blonde hair bounced behind her. He supposed that’s what he should find attractive: the gorgeous Hollywood actress, with her full-face of makeup and, you know, being a girl. He tried glancing over at Saihara without turning his head to alert the other. His long eyelashes obscured most of his golden-grey eyes, but from what little view he had, Ouma could see the woman on the screen reflected in Saihara’s eyes. He didn’t look too interested in the movie just yet, as it had only started, but he didn’t look bored either. Saihara’s mouth was slightly ajar, resting neutrally. His lips were chapped from the cold winter’s air, and Ouma really needed to stop staring at Saihara’s totally kissable lips. Well, they’d probably be more kissable if he used chap stick, maybe grape flavored, but Saihara had once told Ouma that it felt too much like lipstick to him and it made him uncomfortable, and Ouma respected that. That didn’t mean he didn’t have at least three grape-flavored chap sticks on his person at all times in case something actually were to happen.

“Have you seen this movie before?” Saihara asked, turning his head up slightly to look at Ouma. Ouma felt somewhat awkward having their eyes meet immediately, feeling like he was caught in the act of staring.

“Yep! It’s super good,” he lied. “You won’t believe what happens when Maribelle—”

“Stop lying and actually pay attention to the movie,” Saihara interrupted and turned back to the screen. “The protagonist’s name is Jane. I’m not sure what’s so interesting about my face but,” he paused momentarily, an awkward blush on his cheeks, “if you’re that bored we can change the movie.”

“Neeheehee,” Ouma slit his eyes at Saihara, making a face that put others on edge, but then quickly changed into an overeager smile, “what? No way! Weren’t you listening? I said I love this movie!” He shifted his body more into Saihara’s space to be extra dramatic, almost pushing the other over the edge of the bed. Saihara screeched and reached his arms around Ouma’s neck to steady himself, holding on tight until he was sure that he wasn’t going to fall.

“My, my, Saihara-chan!” Ouma gasped dramatically, “how forward of you!” Saihara looked up into deep purple eyes and awkwardly released his grip, stumbling over mummers of apologies as his face heated up. They had been so close. Honestly if Saihara had fallen and taken Ouma down with him, there’s no guarantee that Ouma wouldn’t use that opportunity to “accidentally” kiss Saihara. That’s a lie. There’s a one hundred percent guarantee that he would absolutely do that.

The two leaned back into each other and continued watching the movie. Saihara rewound it a little because they had missed a few scenes while their faces had been mere centimeters apart. The memory made Ouma want to blush. God, he was so gay. He tried to focus on the movie, but watching some attractive girl get with a mediocre guy wasn’t really his thing. He’d rather see himself get with the most gorgeous guy on the planet. Ouma had thought about what it would be like if they were dating. Obviously they would hold hands, and Ouma would flaunt their relationship to everyone. No, that’s a lie. Honestly, Ouma would probably be too hesitant to tell anyone, mostly because he wasn’t sure if Saihara would be comfortable telling others. But, if they were dating, Ouma would be able to kiss Saihara often. He would stand on his tip toes and firmly press his lips against Saihara’s chapped ones, maybe sticking his tongue inside the other’s mouth. Maybe even eliciting a moan from Saihara, his voice heavy with want and—

“What are you thinking about?” the same sweet voice that Ouma had just been fantasizing about had interrupted his thoughts. Ouma jolted slightly, averting his gaze for a moment before meeting Saihara’s eyes and smirking.

“Oh? Does Saihara-chan really wanna know?” he leaned into Saihara’s face with a mischievous glint in his eyes, masking the embarrassed blush that threatened to spill across his cheeks. “Maybe I was thinking about how much I find Jane attractive, and what I’d do with her if she were here next to me instead of you. But that’s a lie. I was actually thinking about how it’s just you and me, locked in your room, sharing a bed on Valentine’s Day, and about how much I want to flip over on top of you and roam my hands down your body. Lower and lower until I reach the hem of your pants and—.” Saihara’s scream interrupted him. Ouma retreated back into his own space and watched as Saihara flung his hands around to try to cover his face. His entire face had gone red, including the tips of his ears, and he was spluttering incoherently as he gawked at Ouma. Ouma watched Saihara fidget as he slowly regained some composure, although his face was still incredibly red.

“Ouma!” Saihara screeched, balling his fists into his pants after giving up trying to hide his face without his hat. “You can’t just… You can’t just say things like that! Even if it is a lie.”

Ouma tilted his head at the other’s remark. “Oh? Who said I was lying?” Ouma laughed. “But you know,” he sang, once again approaching Saihara, “you had quite the interesting reaction, Saihara-chan! It’s almost as if it was you thinking about doing that to me, neeheehee.” Saihara swatted Ouma’s face away and turned back to the movie, face never dimming in color.

“I don’t,” Saihara started, “I didn’t.” He groaned. “I wasn’t… thinking about that. I swear! You just… You just started talking about… stuff, and it was embarrassing. You can’t just… talk about… stuff like that. It’s not good for my heart.”

“Why?” Ouma asked. And before he could stop himself, he tacked on: “are you gay?”

Saihara looked up at him, and Ouma really hoped his face wasn’t as pale as he expected it to be. Saihara looked away and stared blankly at the computer screen, and Ouma felt choked by the silence, despite it only lasting about two seconds. “No,” Saihara spoke up, “I’m bi.” Ouma blinked down at his friend. Bi. Shuichi Saihara was bisexual. Or at least biromantic. Bi-something. Bi as in Ouma could actually have a chance with him. If Saihara saw him that way. Did Saihara see him that way? He hoped he did but there was no way. He was hard enough to be friends with, there was no way someone could have a crush on him. But Saihara never met his expectations; he always went so far beyond and did the unexpected. So it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh, cool,” he replied automatically, sliding back into his movie-watching position, “I’m gay.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

They continued watching the movie in silence. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but Ouma’s head was reeling. Would Saihara think of him differently now that he knew? Of course not, he was bi, they were similar. They were both not straight. They were both trans too. Why was he so scared of telling Saihara in the first place? Was it because of his crush? He didn’t want Saihara asking him if he had a crush on him. But he also did. Well, even if Saihara did ask him, Ouma would lie. It was hard enough to finally be able to open up to Saihara about parts of his past, Ouma doesn’t think he has the energy to tell the truth about this too. Maybe one day he’ll look back and and tell Saihara about his silly crush with a laugh. Provided they were still friends. He hoped they would be. Saihara was so important to him; he was the only person outside of DICE that cared about him. Of course, that’s not why he loved Saihara, it just happened to be that Saihara was the most important person in the world to Ouma right now.

“Hey,” Saihara’s tired voice sounded hoarse after not speaking for so long. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking about. You’re always thinking. And I mean, I know I’m always thinking a lot too, what with all my anxieties and all. But, if you’re worrying over coming out you don’t have to. You always overthink everything. I mean, I already knew you were trans, and I’m bi, so… I’m just trying to say that… Thank you for trusting me? I guess? I’m not actually sure, I’m sorry. But uh,” he drew out the syllable, trying to think of the right words, “you’re still Kokichi Ouma. That’s how straight allies usually comfort gay people in TV shows I don’t actually know if that was helpful.” Ouma snorted. “Hah, yeah. I mean like, obviously it doesn’t change anything? It’s not like Yumeno appeared out of nowhere and put a curse on you that changed your physical appearance.”

Ouma doubled over, cackling. “That’s assuming she can actually use magic! She’s… She’s always going on about how tiring it would be to use her mana, or how unimportant it is or something. If… If she wanted to,” he took a few deep breaths to calm his laughter. He chuckled abruptly again for a quick moment before continuing with a more even voice, “If she wanted to change someone’s physical appearance all she’d have to do is tell Chabashira-chan to punch their face in.”

“Ouma, you shouldn’t endorse her,” he looked at the other with a twinge of disappointment on his face.

“Am I wrong though?”

Saihara was silent. Ouma held eye contact with his eyes open wide and inquisitive, almost daring Saihara to tell him that yes, he actually was wrong. “No,” Saihara breathed out after a moment, succumbing to the fact that Chabashira would in fact punch somebody in the face if Yumeno told her to.

“Exactly!” Ouma declared and slung his arm around Saihara’s shoulders. “And it’s because of this that I must perform the sacred duty of protecting my beloved Saihara-chan’s beautiful face with my life.”

Saihara laughed that beautiful, song-like laugh of his and looked at Ouma with such a loving smile on his face. “You don’t seem to be acting hesitant anymore. Does that mean you no longer feel awkward? That’s good.”

Ouma inhaled a large, overdramatic gasp. “Saihara-chan! I can’t believe you actually thought I was upset! That was obviously a lie. I’m disappointed.” But Ouma smiled back at him. It may have been an awkward attempt, but Saihara did make him feel better.

Ouma removed his arm from Saihara and slithered down to rest his head on the taller boy’s shoulder, reversing their earlier position. Saihara rewound the video again, and it picked up at some place where Ouma had no idea what was happening because he hadn’t been paying attention at all. Saihara wrapped his arm around Ouma’s side, loosely embracing him. Ouma was happy. And that was the truth. He felt so warm and loved in that moment that the content-ness slowly sung his eyes to close, guiding him into a welcoming sleep.

When Ouma woke up, he was welcomed to a tight embrace and a face full of Saihara’s shirt. Ouma may have enjoyed cuddling, especially with Saihara, but he also enjoyed breathing—something that was sort of hard to do in this position. He squirmed a little bit to duck out of the taller boy’s grasp, something that should have been a lot easier than it was—and a lot less embarrassing. He’s really glad no one saw his desperate attempt to break free from his crush cuddling him.

When he could finally breathe properly again, Ouma’s hair was in disarray, much more wild than he usually kept it, and his face was red from the struggle and nothing else. That was another lie. His face was mostly red because of where his head had been: AKA way too close for his gay little heart to beat slower than 10,000 beats per second, even though Saihara’s heartbeat was calm, and actually quite soothing to listen too. Maybe one day Ouma would be able to cuddle him that closely, head against the other’s chest, listening to his heartbeat; preferably listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat. Ouma didn’t fight off the blush that consumed his face, unconcerned about being seen, as the only other person here with him was sleeping.

Ouma watched as Saihara slept, which was not as creepy as it sounded. He just wanted to make sure he hadn’t woken him up in the struggle. Saihara’s stomach moved slightly as he breathed, expanding and retracting with each breath, moving his chest as well. His shirt had risen slightly during the night, exposing just the tiniest sliver of skin. Saihara looked peaceful. Ouma quietly got off the bed and retrieved his belongings and put on his shoes. It may have still been early, but he didn’t want to intrude any more. Besides, they still had class tomorrow. Or was it today? Ouma had forgotten to check the time. He took the chocolate bar out of his bag and placed it on Saihara’s bedside table. Attached to the sweet was a small tag that read “I loooooooooove you Saihara-chan! ♡ And that’s not a lie!!!” with a quick drawing of himself winking and blowing an overdramatic kiss.

He left Saihara’s room and tiptoed back to his own, being careful no one saw him creeping out of someone else’s room late at night. God only knows what kinds of rumors Iruma would start if she caught him. Once inside his room, Ouma threw his stuff onto the ground and leapt onto the bed, screaming into his pillow. Well, this was it: he did it. There were four ways this could go, maybe five if Ouma was being creative. One: Saihara returns his feelings and everything is great (unlikely, as stated previously). Two: Saihara doesn’t return his feelings and begins to hate him (also unlikely, his beloved Saihara-chan isn’t the type of person to hate others). Three: Saihara doesn’t return his feelings but he’s accepting and they still remain friends (this would be incredibly awkward and Ouma would scream if this happens). Four: Saihara thinks the chocolate and love note are a lie (likely, considering Ouma’s overly-high tendency to lie). And five: Ouma goes back to Saihara’s room, picks the lock, and takes the chocolate bar back, pretending nothing ever happened (which he was very tempted to do).

Ouma sighed and turned over to face the ceiling. The paint had dried clumpy, so if he focused hard enough he could make out random shapes and give them a story. The dried specks reminded him of stars—granted, he had no idea how the constellations were actually shaped, but they were random dots all the same—and he wished he could watch the stars with Saihara one night, maybe cuddling and talking about how much they love each other. Ouma placed his right arm over his eyes and groaned; hopefully tomorrow would go well.

Waking up for the second time that morning was torture. Ouma slid off of his bed and landed with a quiet thud on the ground. He laid there for a few moments before slowly getting up and grabbing clothes from the closet. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a little bit, too tired to process anything yet, and then sat back down on his bed. He could feel his eyes struggle to remain open, and just as he was about to let them close, his alarm saying that he would be late if he didn’t leave right now began blaring. He groaned and turned off his phone before sluggishly making his way to his classroom.

He could hear the loud boisterousness of his classmates from the end of the hallway, and drudged onwards towards it. When he opened the door, the voices seemed to die down significantly. Ouma scanned the room briefly with his tired eyes and gave a small smirk. “Oh? Are you all finally realizing I’m your supreme leader?” he challenged, “I’m glad to see that my loyal subjects bow down quietly before me. Neeheehee!”

“Yo, dude,” Momota chirped out, “what’s up with this note?” He gestured to the small object in Saihara’s hands and Saihara looked away bashfully.

“I,” Saihara stammered, eventually making eye contact, “I only showed Momota, but he was really loud and now the whole class knows.” He ended his statement as if it were a question, and Ouma stared blankly at the chocolate in his hands.

Ouma threw his hands up behind his head and, mustering up as much as his tired body could asked, “oh, that? Can’t you guys read?” He pouted, “It says how much I love Saihara-chan! That’s my confession chocolate you meanies,” he willed up some crocodile tears to pour out and loudly started sobbing.

“God, just shut up!” Iruma shouted, “Nobody cares about your twink-ass crush!”

At that point the bell rung, and everyone who was still standing took their seats. Ouma caught Saihara glancing over at him a few times, but, like always, Saihara was the one person Ouma could almost never read. Unfortunately, that included now. What was he thinking? He didn’t look put off by the confession, but did he even believe him in the first place? No, of course not, he made sure to act as though he was lying.

The day went on as usual: classes passed, Kiibo yelled at Ouma for making a robophobic remark, Harukawa only threatened to kill him four times today, and nobody paid attention to the teacher in the last ten minutes of class before lunch. Ouma had, gradually, become more awake throughout the day, only falling asleep in class once for about five minutes. That said, in his tired state this morning he had completely forgotten to eat breakfast, and was now walking slightly faster than he usually did to the dining hall. Once he had his food, Ouma made his way to one of the outside tables, securely hidden by a tree. Sometimes he liked to join others just to mess with them, but most of his classmates were still in a Valentine’s Day mood, with the couples flirting more than usual and the single people either complaining about not having a date or about how the holiday is a scam and shouldn’t be celebrated.

Ouma began to eat his meal in peace. He didn’t want to confront anyone right now, completely unrelated to the fact that he doesn’t want to be faced with questions about his crush. Ouma sighed. That was a lie. He really should have taken the chocolate back last night. He heard footsteps approach him, and resigned himself to the fact that of course Gokuhara would want to sit with him anyway, because he was just too nice. Ouma looked up at the trespasser and nearly dropped his drink. It was Saihara.

“Wow,” Ouma sang, “is my beloved Saihara-chan joining me for lunch today? Did Momota-chan and Harukawa-chan kick you out? That is just so mean.”

Saihara rolled his eyes and sat down across from Ouma. “Ouma, we’re friends. Am I not allowed to sit with you?”

“Of course you are, my beloved Saihara-chan!” His face grew a tad darker as he leaned in slightly, “but that’s not why you’re here, is it? I can tell. You’re hiding something.” He took a few more bites of his food and then looked at the other boy with tears in his eyes. “I thought,” Ouma hiccupped, “I thought you said we were friends. Why would you lie to me?”

Saihara was startled by the outburst, clearly on edge. He fidgeted around slightly, looking anywhere but at Ouma, which made him more suspicious. “Geez,” Ouma spat out, “you don’t have to be so worried, you know. It’s not like I won’t bite.”

Saihara chuckled softly, “don’t you mean it’s not like you will bite?”

Ouma hummed. “Oh yeah,” he smiled, “or maybe that was a lie. Who knows?”

Saihara sighed and finally looked Ouma in the eyes. He blushed slightly and went to pull his hat lower, over his eyes, forgetting he no longer wore it to school. He looked downcast and put the chocolate from last night onto the table. “Why did you give me this?” he asked.

“Because I love you,” Ouma declared nonchalantly, taking another bite.

“No you don’t,” Saihara countered, “not like that. This is Valentine’s Day chocolate, that’s supposed to be for couples, or for people with romantic interest in each other. I didn’t,” he paused, hesitant and unsure of himself, “I don’t need your obligation chocolate, Ouma. It’s not funny.”

“What makes you say it’s obligation chocolate? Didn’t you read the note? It says I love you. I know how Valentine’s Day works, Saihara-chan.”

“And I know how you work, Ouma.” Ouma looked at Saihara in shock. The other boy was trembling slightly, and he looked like he was about to cry.

“Saihara-ch—” Ouma started but was interrupted.

“No. Listen, I know you like making fun of people, and you mean it all in good fun, but this is too far. You can’t just,” Saihara’s breath hitched, “you don’t just make fun of people’s feelings like that. You always ask us why we hate lies, and this is why: lies like this!” He gestured angrily to the chocolate. “You don’t have to feel the same way, but please don’t give me something like this if you don’t mean it. It really hurts.” Saihara got up and walked away with tears finally starting to break free, leaving a stunned Ouma in his wake.

Option number six: Saihara returns his feelings but doesn’t believe they’re real. Ouma is speechless. The irony of the situation is so funny that if it were happening to anybody else he would double over laughing. But this is happening to him. Saihara liked him. That’s what he meant by all of that, right? There’s no other way to interpret that. But if that’s so, then why was he so determined to believe Ouma was lying? Shouldn’t he have been happy? Ouma really can’t read Saihara at all. But he needed to tell him the truth for once.

The rest of the day passed too slowly for Ouma. He was fidgeting all throughout the remainder of his classes, bouncing his leg and chewing at the eraser on his pencil. All he wanted to do was go back to the dorms so he could confess to Saihara properly. He had nothing to be afraid of. Saihara liked him back.

When the last bell finally rang, Ouma booked it out of class and made his way to his room as fast as he could without actually sprinting. He threw his bag onto the floor and paced around his room for a good ten plus minutes trying to think of how to confront Saihara. Clearly, there was something about Ouma’s behavior that made it impossible for Saihara to like him. It could also very well be that Saihara’s anxieties had some play in the matter. Either way, Ouma would have to be as serious as he could with Saihara, which would be hard, but he was willing to do it for him. Ouma took in a deep breath and marched out of his room and headed straight towards Saihara’s. He rose up his fist determinedly to knock, but stopped right before his knuckled pounded against the wood. He was doubting himself. He was always so sure of everything, but he always wanted to make double- and triple-sure with Saihara. There was a fragileness about him, where he was afraid he would break if Saihara pried too far into who Ouma really was. But at the same time, only Saihara made Ouma feel so comfortable, so real and valid, that Ouma wanted to show him who he really was.

“Ouma?” a hushed voice spoke up behind him, and Ouma whipped around to be faced with a puffy-eyed Saihara. He brought down his fist and his face fell. He made Saihara cry. He really needed to work out this situation immediately.

“Can we talk?” he asked as seriously as he could. His face was neutral, no hint of lying or joking, and he held strong eye contact with the taller boy. Saihara nodded awkwardly and then opened his door, letting Ouma inside, and then closed it quietly after he followed.

Ouma plopped down onto Saihara’s bed, used to the other soon joining him, but instead Saihara sat at his desk chair, not making eye contact or even looking Ouma’s way. It made Ouma so frustrated he wanted to scream. But instead of screaming, he got up and quickly walked over to Saihara. Saihara, confused by the unexpected action, looked up at Ouma, only to have his face grabbed by two small hands, and a pair of fruity-tasting lips mash against his own. Saihara jolted back, a deep red flush flooding his face as he stammered out incoherent syllables.

Ouma smirked, “see? Saihara-chan had no right to think I was lying. I really do—hey wait why are you crying?” Ouma leaned down to wipe at Saihara’s tears but he was forcefully pushed away.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Saihara screeched. “You know I like you!”

“Goddammit!” This time Ouma did scream. “Listen, Saihara-chan. I had no idea that you liked me, okay? I honestly didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be romantically into me because I’m such an asshole. And yes, I know I’m a jerk I just,” he groaned loudly. “Look, I don’t…bond with people well. So I end up annoying them and being a jerk. But even if I am a jerk, I wouldn’t make fun of someone’s crush. Probably. Actually wait, no, that’s a lie. I would totally make fun of Iruma-chan. But not,” he sighs, pausing. “I wouldn’t make fun of you. Especially not if you actually had a crush on me. Which, apparently, you do, which I still don’t really understand.”

“You…honestly had no idea that I liked you?” Saihara asked, genuinely confused. Ouma shook his head. “I thought you could easily understand what everyone was thinking and feeling, though.”

“Yeah, well, I could never really understand you. That’s part of what made me so interested in you. You intrigued me,” Ouma confessed.

“Only part?” Saihara inquired.

“The other part was because I’m gay and you’re attractive.” Both of them were blushing at this point, although Ouma still had a decent amount of control over his expression.

“So then, if you didn’t know I liked you, why did you give me the chocolate? And why did you, uh, why did you,” Saihara squeaked, “why did you kiss me?”

Ouma just looked at him, dumbfounded. He ran his hands through his hair, throwing all of his composure out the window, finally letting his massive blush take over his face. “Because I like you too, okay?” he declared, much louder than he had meant to. He locked eyes with Saihara, who had let his mouth drop slightly. It was kind of cute.

That was another lie.

It was extremely cute.

And Ouma wanted to kiss him again. But he waited for Saihara to reply.

“You,” Saihara gaped, “you like me?” And Ouma laughed. He laughed at both of them for being so stupid. But he nodded. He nodded as a few tears spilt from his eyes.

“Yes. I like you so fucking much. That’s why I gave you chocolate. And invited you to hang out with me on Valentine’s Day. God, Saihara-chan, those are like, super big hints. At the very least you could’ve figured it out when I kissed you,” Ouma pouted.

Saihara laughed embarrassedly, looking away. “Well, it’s not like you figured out that I liked you either.”

“Duh,” Ouma huffed out. “That’s because you don’t flirt with me. Geez, Saihara-chan.”

“I do flirt with you though,” Saihara looked back into Ouma’s purple eyes, gaining some confidence. “I accepted your invitation to spend time with me on Valentine’s Day, I chose to watch a romantic movie with you on Valentine’s Day, we shared a bed on Valentine’s Day, you slept over on Valentine’s Day—”

“Can you please stop saying Valentine’s Day like that?” Ouma’s blush grew redder.

“We cuddled on Valentine’s Day.”

“I thought that was just, like, a trans thing? There are some trans guys in DICE and we cuddle all the time,” Ouma supplied.

Saihara sighed at looked away from Ouma. He balled his hands into his pants and chewed on his lips slightly. Ouma was about to ask him why he wasn’t saying anything when a pair of rough, chapped lips crashed messily into his own. This time Saihara was kissing him. It was awkward and short, and Saihara hid his face behind his hands to hide his embarrassment, but it happened. And Ouma couldn’t stop the smile that spread upon his face.

“Saihara-chan!” He leapt onto the other boy as he drew out his name. The chair leaned back from the force of Ouma literally throwing himself onto it, and it fell over from the combined weight of the two boys. Ouma laid sprawled out on top of Saihara and sat up to straddle him, giggling. “Hey, hey! Saihara-chan! I love you!”

Saihara had covered his face by draping his left arm over it, doing almost null to cover his spreading blush. He still managed to mumble out an embarrassed “I love you too.”

“Aw, Saihara-chan,” Ouma whined, wiggling, “why are you so embarrassed huh? Huh?” He laughed and moved around some more and Saihara grabbed whatever was nearest to him and threw it at Ouma, which happened to be a crumpled up homework assignment that had fallen to the floor during the crash. He then tried to kick Ouma (gently), but found that rather hard to do in their current position, which just made Ouma laugh more.

Ouma looked down at the flustered boy with a fond and loving smile. He leaned down and placed a quick peck on Saihara’s lips before asking, “So, do you wanna date me?” Saihara nodded, peeking out from underneath his arm. He smiled softly and it made Ouma’s heart melt. Speaking of things that melt…

“Hey, Saihara-chan?” His boyfriend looked up at him. Boyfriend!

“Yes Kokichi?” Any and all resolve Ouma had had dispersed at the use of his given name and he squeaked.

Quickly trying to recover himself, although still blushing harder than Saihara, Ouma asked, “do you want to share that chocolate bar?”

#new danganronpa v3 #new dangan ronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 #dangan ronpa v3 #ndrv3 #drv3 #saiouma #oumasai #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #Ouma kokichi #kokichi ouma #oma kokichi #kokichi oma #sparkleskarkles #fanfic #fanfiction #Jiri writes #x0h-worm #long post

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