#knock recover

[queerdraws]

Fanart for a snippet of my most favorite heartbreaking moment from swordsmans's fic bone-breaker ospreys mate for life (rated E)

[galaxy-lilies]

a cub sketch as i try to remember how to draw convex again

[fearandhatred]

lmao no i don't have a favourite picture of aziraphale. i love them all equ-

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #20

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Other ideas relating to the prompt

✦

To Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Jason stayed dead for about six months before he was resurrected. That left his spirit plenty of time to fully manifest in the ghost zone, but time flows a little weird in the Infinite Realms so it feels like he's been dead a lot longer.

Regardless, six months is enough time for him to make plenty of friends and enemies alike. Enough to fall head over heals for the white-haired boy named Danny who just so happens to also be his king. Enough time for Jason and Danny to finally confess their feelings for each other and form a relationship. Enough time for them to grow to adore each other down to their very cores. Enough time for Jason to become the King's consort and earn the title of Prince of the Infinite Realms.

Not enough time, however, when Jason's spirit is unwillingly dragged back to the broken husk of his body buried in a coffin six feet under. Not enough time when the sheer amount of trauma his body and mind suffered causes his memories of the afterlife to sift out like grains of sand through a colander, mindless in his continued existence and search for a man named Bruce that he only half recalls.

Not enough time for when his body is stolen and dunked into the foulist pools of ectoplasm to ever surface in the living world and he comes back with unbridled rage he only half understands. Where is he? Where was he? Why does green flood his vision? Something is missing but why can't he remember? He shouldn't be here. Why was he here?? (1)

Jason tries to navigate his way through the world he'd previously left behind and discovers what happened after his death. The Joker was still alive. Another child was running around in a traffic light costume in the dead of night. Bruce had replaced him, seeming to forget he ever existed and the consequences of training a child to be a vigilante. That just won't do. He cries. He rages. He plans.

Meanwhile, the King of the Infinite Realms is apocalyptic over the fact that his lover was ripped from his arms, their kingdom, their home. He can sense Jason's torment like echoes in a cave. Can sense when his body enters the fringes of his territory when dunked into the toxic Lazarus waters created by the previous king. How dare they taint his lover's spirit with such filth?! Danny's core rears its head, chanting, growling to protect his soulmate.

Danny is beyond unhappy and he's about to make it everyone's problem.

✦

Notes:

(1) Jason forgets everything he experienced in the afterlife with Danny and is even more confused than he previously would have been when resurrected. Memories only come back to him in bits and pieces when he comes into contact with beings of the supernatural and Danny himself or possibly when he sleeps.

(*) I believe an interesting way to show the events and progression for this prompt would be to switch back and forth between the current events of Under the Red Hood/Phantom's anger and the days they spent together in the Infinite Realms before they were literally torn away from each other. Either as standalone info or through the dreams Jason has as he sleeps but doesn't remember when he wakes.

The events of Under the Red Hood still happen, there's just the question of where he even was for the six months that he was dead added into the equation. Dead on Main tossed in there for flair, because why not? Been seeing a lot of "Jason becomes Danny's Fright Knight" fics, but I wanna see one where they're literally just a royal couple who rule the Infinite Realms with a just and fair hand.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

mtf omega stevie where everyone's like why bother transitioning you've already got the vagina and the uterus and everything. but stevies like listen. it's the principle of the thing. also sue me for wanting big naturals

meanwhile alpha eddie's losing his mind bc estrogen makes stevie smell so much sweeter, like honey and caramel, and he's trying not to be a total knothead about it but the 'big naturals' are. ho boy. they're there alright. and stevie already had 'childbearing hips' according to her mother, but the fat redistribution has basically turned her into some kind of fertility goddess, and eddie is so ready to get started on those six nuggets

[lunarharp]

randoms..

[nefertiti-fooling-fellow]

LISTEN LISTEN, I know we’re all sad and disappointed at Mal’s reunion. BUT we need to talk about how this man did whatever he could to keep the memory of MC close to him when they were gone.

Lord Wesley of RIVERBEND????? Mal claiming to be from MC’s hometown?? People died, I am people.

Him telling stories about MC to his kids????????

Building the orphanage when MC disappeared because he needed a purpose?? And the one he picks is the one he wanted to achieve, WITH MC. (for my fellow Mal-romancers out there)

I know we were all expected a big, dramatic reunion, but I honestly think this one was pretty good too. I think the emotions we were hoping for was THERE, it was just subtler.

[vind3miat0r]

i calculated how much more listen time my boyf has until he gets to Inversion and. oh.

[spkyscry]

Oh, very well, she may as well indulged. She was vaguely promised a chance at more spawn, after all, and seeing someone so brazenly naked outside? Far be it from Rhok'zan to disobey what she did best.

The dress she wore slid off like it was liquid, leaving her furred body bare with little fanfare as she stepped outside. Allowing herself to stretch arms over her head and arch her back; the curves of her body on full-display as eyes creep open.

"You kids have had your fun, now allow me to show you what a goddess can do." Never mind she's still, in fact, at least holding back the pull of her body to keep her from being rendered irresistible. She's not quite that drunk yet.

"If anyone dares, that is."

[mueritos]

maybe its cuz im crazy and decided to get not just my flu shot, but also my COVID and tdap booster...all at the same time....but i have been fighting a fever since a few hours after I got the shots, been having body aches and the chills like crazy, and the concoction has given me slight nausea and just bad shits man. not even the first versions of the vaccine did this to me. like im fighting demons and am having to take acetaminophen every few hours just to feel alive....

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

nobody's bought him flowers before

[fjordfocused]

a personal attack on me, my Strength builds, and my immaculate sense of comedic timing.

[queseraphita]

I love lu guang so much knowing now what he doesn't say out loud or is rather tsundere about it; some of the music performed throughout in the donghua non-diegetically tells the audience what he's thinking and feeling from his view point.

A real punch in the heart when i realized finished season 2 and went back to relistened to the music and rewatch season 1

[ratcandy]

hi everyone i moved out

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Criminal; PG

You know when you're trying to rob a museum and then someone else fucks it up

Jonghyun doesn't need to be told twice. He's off, back to following the map in his head with every one of his nerves alight now.  Which means that he jumps about a mile when he walks into the diorama room and an alarm goes off.

Jonghyun has never really been one for fancy old paintings, but he has to admit, these little guys are pretty cute. He's actually smiling a little as he carefully takes each one off of the wall, whole entire paintings small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and taking in their little subjects of humans and little houses and landscapes with interest. Maybe this is what he's been missing the whole time. Maybe all he needed for him to appreciate paintings from people that died 400 years ago was for them to be tiny and cute.

Maybe he still doesn't really care that much and is just glad to have something cute to look at for once during a heist. When he's done with this and out of here, he thinks he'll keep one for himself. He's taking, like, 30 of them, anyway. One less won't hurt the profit they'll get from trading them. Jinki won't mind, and if he does, then Jonghyun will just suck his dick or something until he doesn't anymore. 

He takes the final one off of the wall and slots it very gently into his backpack, then zips it up and pulls it over his shoulders. Glancing around the dark room, at the security cameras in the corners, he puts his back to the wall and says, "Key, are we good?" 

"Path out is clear," is Key's reply, coming into his ear piece just a little bit crackly. "And your tag is sticking out of your sweater."

"Fuck," Jonghyun mumbles, blushing at the smirk in Key's voice as he starts to leave the room and reach behind himself at the same time. He cannot believe that Key waited that long to tell him. Friendship is fake. 

He slips through the halls of the museum, taking his pre-planned path, making sure to stop by the fountain to let the security guard pass, to be careful clambering over the squeaky metal grate to the naked people statue room, stop once he leaves there and wait for the–

"Uh-oh," he says, stopping short, eyes wide as he looks at the security guard on the floor. Sprawled on their back, walkie-talkie broken a few feet away, flashlight on in their hand. "Guys, we have a problem," he breathes.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Key asks. Jonghyun ignores him for a minute in favor of heading towards the security guard and crouching over them. A nasty bruise building on their temple, but a hand over their mouth tells him that they're still breathing; just knocked out. Well, not as bad as it could be, but, still. "Oh, shit," Key says then. Jonghyun guesses he's found the right camera and can see what the problem is now. 

"What is it?" Jinki asks. 

"A guard is out," Jonghyun says, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up. He's wary now in a way that he wasn't before. Someone else that shouldn't be here is in this museum too. "Key, can't you find them?" he asks. "Like, rewind the cameras or something." 

"Not unless I want the main security guy to notice," Key snaps. 

"I mean, do you think he's even conscious to notice if he didn't notice this?" Jonghyun says back. If whoever else is in here didn't have a problem taking out one security guard, he doesn't see why they would have a problem taking out the main guy. They need someone to go check. "Blaze–"

"On it," Minho replies before Jonghyun can even ask the question. The next thing he hears is Minho’s heavy security boots clunking on the tile floor towards the security office. "You keep heading out."

Jonghyun doesn't need to be told twice. He's off, back to following the map in his head with every one of his nerves alight now.

 Which means that he jumps about a mile when he walks into the diorama room and an alarm goes off.

Heart pumping, convinced it was him that caused it, he jumps again when both Key and Minho start speaking at the same time: "I don't know what that is, I haven't even gotten to the office yet," and "quick, Bling, I can't tell where they're heading yet but some of them are going to pass you, to your right, there's a janitor closet, get in there." 

Whoever the fuck is botching their own heist so badly better at least be trying to get something fucking valuable. Jonghyun pivots and runs to the closet on his right, pulling his lockpicks from his pocket as he does so. As frazzled as he is, picking the lock is quick work and he's closing the door behind him far before he hears running footsteps.

Key and Minho are talking rapid fire back and forth trying to figure out what's going on, Jinki offering as much input as he can from the driver's seat. Jonghyun, for his part, stays quiet, listening to what's going on behind his door. Footsteps, footsteps footsteps and then some shouting, orders, more footsteps. Then, quiet, for long enough that Jonghyun thinks that maybe things have calmed down at least in this part of the museum until all at once, there's one pair of footsteps rushing straight at his door.

They're so fast that he barely has time to step back and put his hands up before the door is crashing open, but it's not museum security that tumbles into the room with him.

It's someone dressed very similar to him; dark clothes, gloves, a beanie, and, if Jonghyun is seeing right in the darkness, a face mask with the  Team Rocket logo printed on it. They slam the door behind themself and then lean on it, pulling their mask down, panting hard, putting their face in their hands. They don't even acknowledge Jonghyun as another human being in the room with them. 

The other three are still talking in his ear piece. Putting his hands down, getting his flashlight on, Jonghyun says quietly,  "Guys, shut up. I found them." 

And if Jonghyun jumped a mile earlier, this other thief jumps three when he speaks, eyes wide as saucers as they finally notice Jonghyun in the room with them. Jonghyun can see their mouth open wide to shout something and quickly puts his finger to his lips, shaking his head. They take a moment, breathing hard, and then, in a whisper that's basically speaking anyway, ask, "who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?" 

"What am I doing?" Jonghyun hisses, incredulous. "What are you doing? I'm doing an honest heist, you're the one fucking knocking out people and tripping alarms. What the fuck were you thinking, just leaving that guard on the floor? Why would you go to the trouble of knocking someone out and then trip the alarm anyway? Is this your first job or what?" He doesn't mean to hound them like this, but he's stressed and once he starts he gets himself on a roll and has trouble stopping. It's keeping them quiet, at least, and it actually looks like it's cowing them, because they look down and rub their cheek sheepishly.

"I mean," they say, "maybe."

"Christ," Key mutters. 

"Did I mess up your heist?" they ask, and oh no, Jonghyun thinks, because their eyes are round and their lips are plumped up into a pout and their distressed voice is, distressingly, adorable. "I'm sorry, I didn't–I just needed to–I thought I had disarmed the alarm, but–I'm sorry–my name is Taemin and–no, wait, fuck that's not–forget I said that. My name is Ace." 

"It really is their first heist," Jinki sighs.

"What were you trying to steal?" Taemin asks. Jonghyun almost answers them on reflex before he stops and squints. Nosy. 

"Mind your own business," he says, "and shut up. I'm trying to listen." Which is true; he holds his finger to his ear piece to press it closer to his eardrum so he can hear the conversation better, but he's not really sure that it's worth listening to in the first place.

"What are the fucking chances someone else would pick the same day we did," Key is saying, and then Jinki responds with, "0.27%. It's easy, you just divide the number of days in a year by–" and then Key cutting him off with "shut up, nerd," and then the sound of a slap on a shoulder, and then the sound of a much louder slap as Key hits Jinki twice as hard back, all mingling with the conversation Minho is having with a real security guard. 

 "Guys," Jonghyun hisses. None of this is helping him. "Can I get out of here or what?" 

"Yeah," Key says like none of the previous conversation happened. "They're all swarmed around the alarm. Get out of the closet and go back the way you came, I'll lead you once you hit the fountain." 

"Okay," Jonghyun says. He pushes around Taemin, then tugs on his wrist, other hand on the doorknob. "Come on," he whispers.

"No come on," Jinki says, indignant. "You're not bringing them with you."

"Yes I am," Jonghyun snaps, leaning on the door instead of opening it and putting a hand on Taemin's chest to stop them from walking into him. "You know they're just going to follow me anyway. And I don't want them to get caught on their first heist. They deserve a chance. Besides, they're–"

"He," Taemin supplies helpfully, and Jonghyun cannot stop the smile even though he knows it'll show in the rounding of his cheeks over his mask. Taemin is pulling up his own mask, eyes bright in an excited kind of way now, and Jonghyun is definitely fond as he says, "besides, he's cute." 

"Bling, you are so fucking soft,” Key sighs. "And I don't mean that as a compliment," he adds before Jonghyun can thank him. 

Jonghyun says thanks anyway before he pushes open the door and tugs Taemin to follow him.

They slink through the museum, Jonghyun glancing over his shoulder so often to make sure that Taemin is still with him that before they even hit the fountain Taemin just grabs onto one of his backpack straps and holds on. Jonghyun appreciates it. Once he's sure that Taemin isn't lagging behind or sneaking off, he can focus more on Key's instructions. 

It's an entirely different path out then the one they planned, half improvised by Key and half monitored by Minho redirecting what guards he can away from it. For the rest of the guards they sink into a corner or behind a wall and wait. And for one, after a silent but fierce argument, Jonghyun winces when the heel of Taemin's boot clips the guard’s temple and they drop like a stone. Jonghyun makes a point to at least drag them into a corner where they won't be found as easily, but doesn't bother arguing with Taemin more about it. He just grabs his wrist and hurries along where Key tells him to.

The entire time, Jonghyun doesn't realize that his heart is beating as fast as it is until they reach a side exit and the sight of Minho standing guard around it sends a wave of relief through him. Taemin stops in his tracks, trying to scuttle out of sight, but Jonghyun shakes his head and drags him forward. 

"He's with me," he mutters, reaching out to hold Minho’s hand for a moment as they pass him and push outside. He can tell from the pull on his backpack that Taemin is watching Minho over his shoulder until the door closes behind him. 

"You have to stop falling for twinks with fat cheeks," Minho says into his earpiece.

"Fuck off,"Jonghyun says back, and then very pointedly does not look at Taemin's round cheeks even though he's turning to him with a confused noise. Instead, he looks around to get his bearings. Instead of being in the gardens with the car parked on the street over the fence like their original plan was, they've been unceremoniously spat out into an alleyway between the museum and the tourist center right next to it. The red and blue of police lights flash down one way, so Jonghyun heads the other way with Taemin and his pinchable cheeks in tow. 

Jinki says that they’ll meet up at the burger place down the street, so when they reach the end of the alley, Jonghyun stops and relays the news. He does so while taking off his beanie, his gloves, and his mask, ruffling out his hair, and after a pointed look Taemin does the same.

"Why would we–"

"You think ordering nuggies in full burglar gear would be less suspicious?" Jonghyun asks, eyebrows raised. Taemin mumbles, but he doesn't disagree, and when Jonghyun takes off his backpack to stuff his things inside, holds his own stuff out with an asking noise. Jonghyun lets him, then takes off his dark hoodie so he's just wearing a blue t-shirt underneath and rips off the dark covering on the pack itself to reveal its regular hello kitty design.

"Oh, cute," Taemin smiles. Jonghyun smiles back up at him as he straightens up and pulls the backpack on again.

"Thanks," he replies. Then he grabs Taemin's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. "Now come on," he says. "Boyfriends." And he slips his hand into Taemin's butt pocket and leads him out onto the street, pleasantly ignoring the other three groaning into his earpiece. Taemin is even cuter in the street light and the giddy blush that colors Jonghyun cheeks when Taemin pulls him closer isn't as much of an act as it should be.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 22

im back from hiatus. makoto time

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

still no byakuya pov so we get to hang out with his divorced boyfriend

you might notice some events are out of order compared to the og timeline. this is within my plan...

@digitaldollsworld :]

Content warning tags: implied physical violence, blunt force injuries, more concussions

< previous - from start - next >

“I did warn you.”

Makoto casts a rueful look upwards, looking through his bangs as one hand rubs at the tender lump on the back of his head. Thankfully, it wasn’t too swollen, and he didn’t feel much lingering dizziness, but it’d definitely be hurting for a while. In front of him, Kyoko stares down over her crossed arms, totally unconcerned, if not for the way her fingers were tightened on her elbows, and the slight pinching around her eyes.

“I was being careful,” He mutters back, though even to himself he sounds whiney and petulant. Like a kid that got caught in the act. He looks back down at the floor between his scuffed sneakers, and shifts slightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable crouching here, leaning against the tiled wall of the boy’s bathroom. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“You didn’t. You charged in here without a care in the world.” She replies bluntly, and he winces a little at that.

“I was just trying to help-”

“I’m well aware.”

He recoils again, feeling the miserable, sinking feeling in his gut threatening to swallow him up. He did what he had to during the trial, despite knowing full well that Byakuya would hate him for it - but this time around, he really fucked up.

He drops his head between his knees, miserable between the throbbing pain and his own guilt. Above him, he hears Kyoko sigh, and then she’s lowering to a crouch in front of him, so that they were eye-level. “What’s done is done.” She still seems displeased, but not angry. “Lift your head. I’m going to check that you’re not concussed.”

“...You know how to do that?” But he lifts his face anyway. And jumps a little, as she places a hand below his jaw, tilting his face upwards. “U-um...”

“Okay, your pupils look fine. And the reaction to light seems normal.” She turns him a little to the left, then the right, her own eyes pale and striking. He can feel a flustered kind of warmth crawling up his cheeks from his neck. “How’s your vision? Blurry? Sensitive?”

“N-no? Um, I can see fine-”

“Any trouble focusing on anything? Pain?”

“No, I-”

“Follow my finger.” She releases his face, and holds up one finger, moving it slowly closer to his nose.

He pushes it away, now thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m fine,” He insists, turning away. He knew pretty well how unnerving Kyoko’s gaze could be, but right now they felt like sun lamps, burning a hole in him. “I- can I just tell you what happened in there?”

That seems to get her attention. She drops her hand, and shuffles closer.

“I’m listening.” She says, voice soft and serious. And he coughs, clears his throat, and begins-

—

He had come up to the second floor with the intention of going to the third, if only to wander around a bit to take his mind off things, but had wanted to stop by the library first, with the vaguest idea of trying to pick out a book to give to Byakuya as a sort of peace offering.

But as he came up into the hallway, and looked at the wall where Chihiro had been pinned - the body gone, the bloodstains cleaned, and even the holes in the drywall patched and expertly plastered over - he felt a deep, bone-chilling feeling in his chest, and couldn’t bring himself to walk past it. He turned around, and then noticed the slight sound coming from the boy’s bathroom as he passed, and remembered what Kyoko had been up to before yesterday’s trial.

It had bothered him then, and even more so now, as he recalled it. Kyoko’s alibi was flimsy, but she’d executed it expertly. Even the person she claimed as her witness, Toko, hadn’t said anything to support it, but by the time Toko was giving her testimony, no one was paying attention to Kyoko anymore anyways. It was like she’d planned it all, and if it hadn’t come out at the very end who the true culprit was…

He frowned, and shook off the unease. Whether he could trust Kyoko for now wasn’t something he could determine from yesterday alone, because it was clear she was doing things on a different level from the rest of them. Even compared to the real Ultimate students, she always seemed to be a step ahead, calculating beyond measure. In the end, the only thing he could do was be grateful that she was on their side.

He stepped into the bathroom. It’s the same as yesterday, old, dusty, the light buzzing with a lemon-yellow glow. He passed the empty stalls to the last one on the end, its door hanging ajar -

A pale figure shot out just as he was about to push the door open wider, and slammed a leather-clad palm against his mouth before he could cry out. He panicked for a moment, one hand grabbing the fingers pressed into his cheeks, the other shoving at the mysterious assailant’s shoulder, before he suddenly recognizes who it is.

“Kh-yo-goh-?!” He managed, voice muffled. Kyoko, with clumps of dust clinging to her sleeves and what looked like a cobweb flying off her hair, glared back at him.

“Let go of my hand,” She gritted out, and he realized he was still squeezing the fingers around his face, and let go quickly, raising his hands in surrender. She released him in turn, cradling her hand gingerly to her chest as she did. There was something wrong with the way her fingers were curled, the way her face paled slightly when she tried to clench it into a fist.

“U-um, are you o-”

“Fine.” She did not sound fine. Her voice was strained. Her posture was as steady as ever, but her eyes kept darting. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” he hesitated. “I was just. Looking around?”

She stopped casting uneasy glances to level him with a stare, eyes narrowed slightly, and even he knows how pathetic that must sound. “I-I’m being serious! And- and anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Investigating.” She said it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and in hindsight, he really could have just guessed.

“I thought you said you were going up to the third floor?”

The corners of her mouth turn downwards. “I said that to throw off anyone who might have been listening in. Including the mastermind.”

“...Oh.”

She looked away from him, and he stood there, unsure, feeling both stupid and, somehow, frustrated. It wasn’t as if he was trying to look for her. And he only ended up coming into the boy’s bathroom on a whim.

The stall behind her is empty. There’s not even a toilet, just an odd collection of cleaning supplies. Totally innocuous at first glance, but he frowned, and squinted. It was hard to tell with the light, but everything in the stall was just as dusty as the rest of the place, except for a perfect rectangle of tiles against the far wall.

“What’s in here?” He asked, and her attention snapped back to him.

“Nothing.”

“You said that really fast…”

Her brows furrowed slightly, a scowl if he ever saw one, though the corner of her mouth twitches slightly. “...Have you ever been told you’re too observant for your own good?”

He smiled sheepishly at that. “Um. Not to my face?”

Kyoko was quiet for a moment, apparently pondering whether or not to tell him, before she sighed, and leaned in, one hand resting on his shoulder to pull him close. “Not now, but later.” Her hurried whisper tickled against his ear, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck, and he inadvertently shuddered. “When I’m not around, and it’s safe to do so. Press against the tiles against that back wall. Don’t spend too much time there, or you’ll draw suspicion.”

And then she left. Suddenly and with barely a sound, leaving him stupefied, standing in the middle of the bathroom, rubbing at his ear. He had the feeling that he had just been trusted with something very important, but he had no idea what, and no idea why.

He should have left as well. And followed her advice later, much later, when the tension had passed and the mastermind was suitably distracted; but the curiosity had been too strong. He was antsy and pent-up, and desperate for some answers.

The room behind the stall wall was a dusty, foreboding place, cobwebs and cracked gray cement and exposed ventilation pipes. Fluorescent lights hum from the ceiling and cast a pale, eerie white glow. A shelf leaning against the far wall, a chipped-up desk and stool in the middle of the room. The shelf was crammed full, files and papers and books - yearbooks, he realizes - and crumpled-up pages litter the floor.

A file room? He stepped in hesitantly. Why such a place would be hidden behind a boys’ bathroom, he didn’t know, but as he approached the desk he found the files that Kyoko had just been looking at. Some things about the school’s founding, a blueprint of the building - and a yearbook, with a scrap of paper sticking out from between the pages.

It must have been a misprint, because the embossed date on the book’s spine made it out that this was meant to be published for this year. His school year. His school year that hasn’t happened yet, because of a killing game.

It was the only explanation he could think of, but he couldn’t help the sense of foreboding prickling up his back as he reached for it, hesitating briefly as he reached for the cover. It flips open to the page just before the freshman class portraits, where the piece of paper that had been sticking out like a flag.

YOU MUST NOT LEAVE.

The words were printed neat and bold, in stark black. Makoto frowned, and picked it up, turning it in his hand as if it was some optical illusion, promising to reveal some deeper meaning. And there must be some deeper meaning, because he couldn’t shake the strange, uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly why this wording was used. ‘You must not leave’, not ‘you can’t leave’.

It makes it sound like we have a choice, he thought, before-

—-

As he finishes, he reaches up to touch the back of his head again, feeling out the tender bump. The pain was still there, just manageable, but insistent. It felt like all the energy in his body was being drained out of that spot, leaving behind a bone-deep, achey tiredness.

Kyoko is still across from him, chin tucked into her hand as she thinks. And then she sighs, and stands up, stretching slowly. He waits, expecting her to get angry, or something, but she doesn’t even seem too disappointed. Or maybe she was just good at hiding it.

“Come on,” She motions for him to stand, and he does, feeling his knees creak. “We should go to the nurse’s office.”

“Huh? No, I’m fine-”

“We don’t know that for sure. And I’m not enough of a medical expert to clear you of a concussion.” She glances to their side, where the door to the hidden room was, perfectly blended in with the rest of the wall. “That door is locked now. I can’t get in.”

“What, seriously?!” He tries it himself, stepping past her to push against the tile. But there’s no budge, not even the slightest movement to suggest that a door existed there in the first place. “But the files-”

“Whoever it was that knocked you out was likely the mastermind. They wouldn’t have let that room stay open after they found out that we knew about it.” Kyoko shakes her head. “It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

He winces at that. “But you hadn’t finished looking through them…”

“No, I didn’t. But I doubt that we’d be able to access those files whether or not we could get back through that door,” She pauses, and glances back at him. “But again. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

She turns to leave. And he grimaces again, still kicking himself for his own stupidity. But he follows her anyways, dogging beside her with feet that feel as heavy as lead.

The nurse’s office is clean when they get there, the waste bin empty, the curtains pushed back. Even the bed is made, and Makoto can’t help the pang in his chest as he remembers seeing Taka there, curled up and silent, unwilling to say anything to anyone. Kyoko is already rummaging through the drawers, and she passes a white bottle to him.

“For the headache.” She says simply. “You can grab an ice pack from the fridge here, too.” And turns to leave.

“Wait, what about you?” He blurts out, before he can think twice about it.

She raises an eyebrow. “What about me?”

He hesitates, but he can’t take the words back now. “Your hand. Your left hand, I mean - it’s hurting, right?”

And as he could have predicted, she freezes, then sighs, a sound that’s half-annoyed, half-amused. “Again. Too observant,” She flexes her hand in front of him, as if to prove him wrong. “It’s fine. It won’t hinder me.”

Now it was his turn to scrutinize her. There are no tells on her face, no outward sign that she was lying at all, but Makoto remembers how she favored her right hand when typing on Alter Ego’s keyboard, and how shaken she had been after he had grabbed her left hand earlier. He knows what he saw, and that seemed to be the one thing he was good at here.

“...I won’t ask you what happened. But you shouldn’t try and pretend like it’s fine if it’s not, or it could make it worse.” He casts a quick look around the nurse’s office. “There’s probably those, uh, those finger splints thingies – like the kind that athletes use – somewhere around here…or we could ask Sakura, maybe? She probably knows about these kinds of things.”

“...It’s fine, Makoto. I don’t need it.”

“You don’t-” He stares at her, incredulous. The strange contrast between her concern for his potential concussion, and yet her own self-neglect was baffling, but he finds it hardly surprising. “...Okay, can you let me see the damage then?”

“No.” She replies instantly, in a voice so flat that it didn’t leave any room for deliberation. And suddenly, he’s worried that she’ll leave again, and makes an aborted attempt to grab for her arm - and hesitates, before pinching onto her sleeve instead.

“Why?” He feels frustrated, the same frustration he felt that night Sayaka died; when Byakuya confronted him about his blindness. “Why hide it? Why…why do you want to deal with this all by yourself?” He can’t help the edge of desperation that’s creeping into his voice. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we could all work with each other?”

Kyoko’s eyes narrow slightly, like she’s the one who doesn’t understand him. “Makoto…don’t be ridiculous.” She shakes him off. “I doubt anyone here has the capabilities to help me.”

“You don’t know that! We’re all students of Hope’s Peak, so- so I’m sure they can all help somehow.” Granted, now that he’s met his fellow freshman class, he’s learned that they were all human, and sometimes, painfully so. But even despite that, they were all still extraordinary when compared to him. “What, is this about- about pride, or something?”

She huffs, a sound that’s almost a snort. “Of course not. Don’t confuse me with-” She pauses for a moment, hesitating. “...No, it’s nothing to do with pride. It’s about my own safety. Surely you can understand that much?”

He winces a little at that. He does understand, unfortunately; several times now, he’s seen some of the most well-meaning, seemingly harmless people of their group become violent and desperate, and resort to the worst possible means. But even so, he can’t give up. “But, if it’s just the ten of us left-”

“Enough, Makoto. Listen.” She turns to face him fully now, giving him her full attention. “We are in a place with no clear exits or entrances. We have been given explicit instruction to kill each other, but not pointlessly injure. And yet, one of us has been disabled, seemingly for no reason, which means that there is nothing here that we can take for granted. Not even our own bodies.” Her injured hand clenches again, though it shakes slightly at her side. “Maintaining distance is the safest option for me. I would suggest you do the same.”

Every word she says is true. He knows this, and he hates it, in much the same way that he hated how Byakuya had spoken so callously about Sayaka after the first trial. What he hates more though, is how hard it is to refute any of it…and how he knows that she was only saying it with good intentions. Out of concern.

She turns to leave the nurse’s office, and this time he lets her go. 

“For what it’s worth, I still trust you.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can even reconsider it. But she stops with one foot past the threshold.

For a moment, it seems that she is about to turn around and say something, but instead, she rounds the corner, and disappears from sight.

< previous - from start - next >