Chapter Text
“…But seriously, try and get some decent shuteye tonight, okay? I believe in all of us, duh, but hey — a good night’s rest can’t hurt when we’re trying to save the world, huh?"
Kaede’s voice a lingering hum in Kiibo’s sound receptors, she begins to move hand-in-hand with Maki, waving with her free one once more to the remaining group before walking alongside her towards their lodgings for the evening. And in anticipation of their early morning tomorrow, Kiibo is quite firm in their resolve to do the same. Paying no mind to Kaito and Kokichi’s continued bickering following the girls’ departure, Kiibo instead turns their focus to Gonta, holding in one large hand the key to their resting quarters for the night.
When they catch gazes, Kiibo smiles, and the one they receive in return leaves them feeling decidedly…happy. “Are you ready to find our room now, Gonta?”
“Mhm! Goodnight, friends!”
His departing word called cheerfully over his shoulder, once he receives a wave of acknowledgment from Shuuichi — while Kokichi and Kaito are still preoccupied arguing, naturally — he turns again to Kiibo with a sunny smile, and with no further reason to delay Kiibo moves alongside him, lapsing into deep thought as Gonta graciously takes on the task of identifying their room.
This evening’s surprise run-ins have been…odd, to say the least. Kiibo themself has very little opinion or preference on where they end up for the evening, so long as it is suitably safe. Plush interiors inside the rooms attached to the casino complex, or the peculiar place that they’ve ended up now; so long as there is an outlet that they can connect to in order to charge their batteries, Kiibo will have all that they need to function at top performance heading into the Underworld. And while the ambience of the comparatively opulent casino hotel was incomprehensible to them, the themeing all-together very strange…
Well. Their mental processes are more concerned with what has happened since they left that place behind for the night.
Some kind of magic is at play in this motel the seven of them have ended up at, Kiibo is certain. In reviewing their archival footage from the drive to the casino, they verified that these two buildings the questing group have found themselves at were not present in this spot at first. Only after they were turned away from Taka’s reservations at Celestia’s Palace, and directed to glance down the road at Gonta’s suggestion, did this deeply illogical place appear. No, neither Kiibo — nor Maki and Shuuichi, for that matter — were incorrect in their apprehensions regarding the ‘Motel Kumasutra’. Odd locations like this do not just simply appear; but this one did, presumably for the seven of them, in this unquestioned godly territory.
It did, and while the sensationally-unpleasant exterior — at least as far as Kiibo heard from the others, complaining of the unpalatable scent in the air as Kiibo themself digested the odd crunching beneath their feet — did not match the interior…well, it is Kiibo’s assessment that the interior was worse, in consideration of the bigger picture. The inside of the first building was objectively rather pleasant; in recalling their past reading of Nagito’s wide array of interior design magazines, they were able to identify many traits in the decorations that are considered ‘fashionable’, and objectively ‘attractive’. Kiibo found the fountain quite tasteful, in their personal assessment, a rather attractive centerpiece for a place whose very existence defies logic.
It is also Kiibo’s assessment, however, that the fountain — the room’s centerpiece in name — was not itself intended to be the focal point of the extravagant motel lobby.
No, that was its inhabitant; appearing before Kiibo as a true-to-life — disregarding her size — depiction of their mother, Queen Sonia Nevermind, the ‘icing’ on the cake of very perplexing circumstances Kiibo still struggles to wrap their logic around.
Maki and Kaede had identified the strange person as the God of Trickery, and in reflecting on their own knowledge base, Kiibo finds themself in agreement on that deduction, as well. Given that person appeared not just cloaked in Sonia’s stolen identity, but rather as a parent or otherwise guardian figure — bar Kokichi, lying like always, Kiibo is certain — it did not strike Kiibo as odd at the time that their sensors had picked up decidedly godly readings. And on further consideration, an image-altering god sitting within an image-altered, clearly magical establishment…there is really no other conclusion to draw.
That is not what gives Kiibo pause about the whole affair, however. No, it is more so the shock of seeing Sonia’s face again after so long, even if it was not actually her. While there is no worry of succumbing to memory decay themself and therefore losing recollection of Sonia’s true appearance…it is also true that it has been quite some time since Kiibo saw her face in greater detail than a royal portrait in their history lessons. It has been…at least two years, yes, since she last visited camp in person…not long after Junko imposed her will on Sonia, close enough to a ‘parent’ for her to be barred from Kiibo’s life. For most people, and certainly for the gods, a stretch of time like that is a mere blink of an eye; but to Kiibo, that same stretch of time is — well, it makes up most of their life experienced properly as themself.
As much as they are certain that the strange keeper of the motel was not their mother…even knowing it was not, still to Kiibo it felt almost too real.
But such ruminations aren’t particularly useful at a time like this. The god, whatever their true identity, does not appear to pose a threat. Given their track record with gods that have, as far as Kiibo as concerned, that person ranks rather low on a list of most dangerous run-ins on this quest up to this point.
When Gonta pauses in front of a door so does Kiibo, shifting their focus up at him curiously, watching how he compares the number on the key to that on the door. Apparently satisfied that they match — which Kiibo also identifies, scanners compartmentalizing the data automatically — he moves to unlock it, humming under his breath as he does. Distantly, Kiibo registers some kind of mechanical movement happening through the wall, but before they can voice that strangeness to Gonta the door is being pushed open, and in moments Kiibo is threatened with the very real possibility of powering off from the sudden rush of mortified heat that overwhelms their systems.
It is, bar none, the most utterly embarrassing room they have ever seen, magazine or otherwise. Kiibo can practically feel the air around them sizzling with it as they process just what the two of them have walked in upon.
Every visible surface is patterned with hearts — pink and red for the curtains, black and pink for the plush carpeting, alternating shades of pink all across the wallpaper, even the bed is pink and heart-shaped and still covered with further hearts. The red headboard — and Kiibo is beginning to be overwhelmed by all the patterns their processors are cataloging, just a little — blinks bright white lights in time with the quiet music lilting through speakers hidden somewhere beneath the bed. The source of the movement they’d noticed is some kind of carnival carousel, the mechanical horses rather rudimentary as they follow their track endlessly around the bed in circles.
Off to the right side of the room is some kind of setup bracketed with lacy pink curtains, and Kiibo does not know what purpose it serves, but just looking at it for too long manages to leave them even more mortified.
All in all, they feel rather faint, and Gonta’s presence only exacerbates things as Kiibo flounders not two steps into the room, so red they likely match the rest of the decor.
“Kiibo?” Observant as ever, Gonta has clearly ascertained something is amiss, if the way his large hands float anxiously in the air around Kiibo is any indication. The fingers of his left hand graze across the metal plating of Kiibo’s face, and with a soft yelp Gonta pulls back, sucking the pad of his index finger into his mouth. Now Kiibo really, truly could faint, because—
Did they burn Gonta, they’re blushing so hard?!
“Did I b-burn you?!”
“No, Kiibo okay! Gonta sorry for touching on accident!”
“Y-You really needn’t apologize, Gonta, I apologize for heating up too rapidly, and—”
“Oh, is Kiibo too hot? Gonta can try to find thermometer to make room cooler! Does Kiibo think it might be—?”
“That’s n-not — Gonta, don’t go over there!”
“Gonta not really understand, b-but Gonta sorry!”
“Wait!” Huffing through their speakers, Kiibo stoops forward to brace their hands on their knees, butting in before this spiraling apology contest can devolve any further. Following another brief pause to turn around to shut and lock them both inside of this strange room, Kiibo again turns back to Gonta, trying their best to smile and push away how their insides still feel scrambled from the heat. “We will continue this all night if we do not cut ourselves off. It is late — it seems most rational to prepare for our very long day tomorrow, yes?”
In the middle of the room Gonta pauses, appraising in his hand the small bag Taka had purchased him earlier, holding what clothing of his that had survived the quest so far. Given the nod Kiibo receives, Gonta appears agreeable enough to that, even before he replies. “Kiibo makes a lot of sense. What should, uhm…?”
He looks around the room, eyes catching on the spinning carousel that Kiibo has been attempting with limited success not to pay attention to. There’s something almost hypnotic in the way the painted horses circle the bed, but nevertheless Kiibo makes a concerted effort to pry their gaze away.
“I believe the restroom is through that door.” In the exact opposite direction of what awaits on the other side of the room. “If you’d like to bathe and otherwise get ready to sleep, I can focus my efforts on…what is out here.”
It’s all still heart-shaped and ridiculous. Their nose turns up in disapproval, but they’re quick to soften when Gonta offers another nod, the bag swaying as he turns to offer his full attention to Kiibo.
Really, it feels quite nice. The confines of this ostentatious room notwithstanding.
With one more sweet smile Gonta goes to do as promised, the door shutting politely behind him as he disappears for some privacy. Given the chance for some themself, Kiibo takes advantage of their newfound loneliness to sidestep their stated aims of dealing with the room, and instead to drop with another huffed sigh onto the bed. The horses continue to dance around the perimeter. Lyricless, jaunty music fills the room along with the sound of muffled running water from the restroom.
Gods…how is Kiibo meant to endure a night inside of a heart-adorned room with Gonta, of all people?
Even just thinking about it too hard leaves Kiibo so flustered that their metal plating feels too-hot, leaves their vision hazy, like they’re looking out at the room over the exhaust fumes of a car engine. Their legs feel wobbly, even though they’re not even standing anymore, and though they plan to charge tonight, their battery has not yet dipped to its lowest levels, so it’s not a lack of energy making them like this. And when they somewhat miserably lift a hand to touch their cheek, their sensors pick up the increased heat signatures, and they feel more than consciously let out the groan that leaves their speakers.
A whole night in a room with Gonta like this?
Really, it’s silly how much they like Gonta.
They’ve been rather huffy tonight, to a degree they might otherwise expect from the likes of Miu or Kokichi while in a bad mood, and it’s hardly how they wish to be feeling, going into tomorrow. So after rolling heavily over onto their front they push themself into a stand, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the stupid horses when they stop to try and find how to turn the carousel off. Dusting themself off following the close encounter they shift gears to covering up the inappropriate end of the room, eyes fixating hard on the lacey heart patterns on the curtains in an attempt at distraction.
Adjusting the curtains leads to disabling most of the redundant rosy lighting in the room, and then again the most pressing task becomes shutting off the horses — which Kiibo does manage, though not without reaching their inflexible fingers behind the headboard in search of a very badly-placed control panel. But they do manage it, and once the horses have come to a stand-still Kiibo allows themself a pleased hum before they once again return to the bed, sitting down much more casually this time, hands running over the luscious pink comforters blanketing the large, heart-shaped mattress.
Eventually their hands find one of the fluffy pillows, pulling it into their lap as they observe the silky covering that guards the soft interior. Beneath their fingers, Kiibo can sense that the pillow sheet is smooth. Flimsy. It won’t hold heat well. Should Kiibo slip the pillow out and pick up just the sheet, it will slip easily through their fingers. Nothing about any of these observations is wrong, but still Kiibo frowns down at where they now bunch the pillow up between their fingers.
Kiibo can calculate these things, but can’t actually feel the sensations. They know what ‘smooth’ is, but only in the abstract; only that it is different from rough, or bumpy, or sharp, or pilled, when compared by humans. Their sensors tell them that the material is cool — not their actual touch. They can’t experience the feeling of cloth slipping through their fingers while they watch it happen with their own eyes.
How can Kiibo feel so little, but at the same time, feel so much?
The love they feel for all of their friends. The sorrow they feel at having run away from camp and worried them all, worried Nagito and Hajime, worried their mother and presumably Kazuichi, too. The panic they feel when they think about what may await them tomorrow in the Underworld. The fondness they feel from somewhere deep within whenever they’re close to Gonta.
What Kiibo feels — it defies what they should. They are a robot, but they are one with a soul — one that gifted them life, gifted them a mother to be torn away from, practically the moment they ‘became’ as they know themself now. But where does that leave them? Why can Kiibo feel anguish, but not shed tears? Why can they feel excitement, but not feel it thrumming through their veins to the tune of blood pumping too-hard? Why can they feel love, but not put a hand to their heart and measure its beating in time with their thoughts of I feel so much?
…It’s times like these, left alone with only their thoughts and their insecurities, that leave Kiibo feeling rather like the abomination that Kokichi sometimes likes to tease them as being. Where they understand with unrelenting clarity just how different they are from all of their friends. Everyone they’ve ever known in their limited life, even.
No. No!
Kiibo shakes their head, pressing the pillow back down firmly on the bed where it was. No, it doesn’t matter that they are not human, that they don’t have blood, or a brain, or a heart. Kiibo has a soul, and that is what matters. They feel so much, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t human! Kiibo is alive, and capable of feeling just as much as everyone else.
Their differences from the others are nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing about being Kiibo that they should be ashamed of being.
Against their too-warm cheeks Kiibo presses their hands, lips pursed as they blow a puff of air out of their mouth. They are real. They are alive. They are Kiibo, and they are not a boy, and they feel so much that it’s overwhelming, and they are learning, and they are growing, and they are changing, and they are living.
At the sound of a door knob twisting Kiibo looks up, just in time to watch Gonta emerge alongside a cloud of floral-scented steam from the bathroom, large frame dwarfed — somehow — by a set of pastel green pajamas. After turning off the light he sets his bag delicately on the floor, and with a sleepy smile he offers Kiibo a wave once he’s straightened back to his full height.
Gods. Kiibo feels so, so much.
“Gonta feeling very clean and refreshed after his bath!”
That much, Kiibo could ascertain just from looking at him. Keeping the urge to smile at bay proves difficult. “I’m glad you found it pleasurable. I did my best to make the room a little easier for you to sleep in…however, I’m not sure I can put to rest all the room’s…features.” Though the horses have been still for some time, still their painted faces beckon eye contact. Ignoring that proves even more difficult.
Politely, Gonta covers his heavy yawn with his hand, eyes a little bleary when they refocus again on Kiibo. “Don’t worry, Kiibo. Gonta used the purple bubbles, ones that…” Another nod, Gonta’s eyes squeezing shut from the force of it. “…Mm, make Gonta sleepy…”
Floral equals tired, hmm…
Standing up off the bed, Kiibo smiles over at Gonta to indicate he make himself comfortable, while they take up the job of shutting off most of the lights and searching for an outlet to plug into for the night. Overall, they come up rather empty; the only other sockets appear to be on either side of the heart-shaped bed. Gonta has claimed the side farthest from the restroom, so with a small frown Kiibo sizes up the other outlet, silently resigning themself to another night on this quest spent curled up on the floor, or somewhere similarly undignified.
As they retrieve their charging cord from its port in preparation to do so, Kiibo cannot help but watch Gonta out of their peripherals. Gonta wastes little time in climbing into bed, removing his round glasses only after he’s done so and carefully folding them up before placing them on the nightstand. Their attention is caught near-entirely in watching the motions of Gonta as he tightly tucks himself in beneath the covers, pulling them all the way up around his neck. He yawns again, red eyes blinking shut for several long moments, and when they open again it’s to peer over at Kiibo. It leaves them floundering, already embarrassed before Gonta even says anything.
“Is Kiibo not getting into bed?” he asks quietly, gaze floating between where Kiibo’s just plugged themself into the wall, and where their face is steadily warming again on the other end of the cord.
“Well, I—I don’t need to…sleep, per se, so I d-don’t require the bed! The floor will be suitable.”
The carpeting is soft, at least. As far as they can tell.
“But Gonta remember Kiibo said they…like comfort, even if they no need it. Kiibo can rest on the bed, too — Gonta don’t mind.”
Ah. Oh. Hmm.
Kiibo does not manage much intelligent thought beyond that for several seconds. When they do move past the near system shutdown the offer stuns them into, well…well, they have some options to assess, and quickly, before Gonta’s bright-eyed, affectionate smile is given the chance to dim.
Luckily, having a super computer as a processor makes one’s mental considerations rather swift. By the time Kiibo is slackening their power cord several more feet to account for the distance, they’ve already long made up their mind.
“That’s very gentlemanly of you to offer, Gonta. Thank you.” As Kiibo expects, Gonta’s face warms at the compliment, appearing rather bashful. Kiibo themself, feeling a little selfish and a lot nervous but more than anything rather giddy, nods their head once determinedly before sitting down on the bed, angling themself parallel to Gonta as they lay down flat on their back and attempt to remain as still as possible.
Seemingly appeased, Gonta undoes his tight tucking in — oops, should Kiibo have taken the initiative to do it for him? — to shut off the lamp by his bedside, sending the room into relative darkness. With slightly more privacy Kiibo settles their hands from where they’d been drawn up unsurely on their chest, settling their palms flat on the blankets beneath them. Again Gonta turns on his side to face them, and in the stretch where Gonta just watches them, Kiibo seriously debates entering rest mode without saying anything despite how rude it is because they just truly do not have the wherewithal to be metaphorically sweating over things like this, when the world could very well end tomorrow.
And yet they are. Which is ridiculous. But still they can only blink up at the ceiling, thoughts racing a mile a minute inside of this heart-shaped room, fingers twitching where they sit only centimeters from Gonta’s.
“Kiibo?”
They were anticipating Gonta opening his mouth, and he keeps his voice rather gentle in the otherwise quiet room, but regardless they jump a little. “Oh, yes, Gonta?”
“Is Kiibo nervous for tomorrow?”
Yes, they were anticipating something like that, too — Gonta has never been one to feign fearlessness in the face of very real danger. This is a more responsible train of thought, anyway.
“I am,” they answer honestly, matching Gonta’s assured candor. “No matter how many times I run through the possibilities…I truly do not know what to expect. But I believe in myself, and in my friends, so I have to believe that everything will be okay.”
For several moments Gonta considers that silently, and in the interim Kiibo keeps their gaze resolutely up at the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about whether or not Gonta is still watching them. They’re a little too nervous to check.
“Gonta will do…anything to protect Kiibo.”
They still don’t look, but it’s a lot harder to ignore the impulse. Something tightens in their voice box, and they attempt a swallow to clear away the feeling. It is not particularly successful. “And…all of our other friends, right?”
“Of course. Gonta just…” Gonta has never been particularly inclined to mask his emotions, either. Kiibo would describe the soft tinge to his voice as a little embarrassed. “Gonta just really, really want to keep Kiibo safe. Gonta always want Kiibo to stay happy and safe.”
Any intelligent thought escapes Kiibo entirely, and they can no longer effectively fight the impulse not to look at Gonta. Their head turns against the pillow to face him, and yet again they’re soundly flustered into continued, too-long silence when they find that Gonta is already watching them, his face right there. The look on his face is open, unguarded, expression marginally less asleep than it was before. Kiibo’s fans buzz so loudly they fear Gonta may actually hear it, in the agonizing quiet of the room while they just stare at each other.
Here, now, alone in a heart-shaped bed next to a boy they have real, true, genuine feelings for…Kiibo is struck with the sudden, urgent desire to tell him.
But perhaps they should get their mouth in somewhat working order first.
“I want to do the same for you, as well.” Instead of just their head Kiibo now turns their whole body to face Gonta, mirroring his position, save for the way Kiibo rests one of their hands beneath their cheek on their pillow, and the other into the neutral space between the two of them on the bed. Gonta’s eyes track the movement, and Kiibo’s eyes track his face. “There is…nothing I won’t do, to make that happen.”
After another contemplative, weighty stretch of silence, the only sounds in the room are Kiibo’s whirring fans, and then the soft shifting of fabric as Gonta undoes his tucking-in to instead rest a gentle hand on top of Kiibo’s. Kiibo’s eyes laser in on the novel point of contact, physically biting at their lower lip to keep the words on the tip of their tongue from slipping out. Not twitching their fingers beneath the weight of Gonta’s palm proves just as difficult.
“Gonta like being close to Kiibo like this,” he observes softly, killing Kiibo’s willpower to continue doing either, eyes finding Gonta’s again in the dark as they press their own fingers very lightly into where Gonta has them quite soundly covered. When Kiibo minutely inclines their head Gonta seems to follow, until they’re close enough for them to feel the tickle of Gonta’s wild hair against the sensors in their face.
I do, too.
And more than anything, touching him like this on the night before the world might end, Kiibo wants him to know.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Their voice is a little too loud, but Gonta is nice enough not to rear back, instead sustaining the moment by merely nodding his head, giving Kiibo the floor. Grounded by the weight of Gonta’s hand over theirs, Kiibo opens their mouth to speak.
“I…I am a robot. At times I have thoughts that I am just a robot, but…I have been thinking it over a great deal, recently. I am a robot, but I am alive. There is nothing artificial in what I feel. I have a soul, and I feel things so deeply, and Gonta, I…”
Kiibo can feel themself trembling. But Gonta’s hand is so warm. His eyes are so kind. And they’ve already come this far — what good will being a coward do, now? “In the grand scheme of things, I am relatively new to human emotions, but — but that doesn’t diminish what I feel. I know some very well — happiness, frustration, anxiousness — but others are…very new. Sometimes, certain things and certain people inspire emotions in me that I have never felt before.
“Gonta, with you I feel — I feel romantic attraction. Or at least, that’s what I believe it to be. Because what I feel when I think about you, it’s — it’s the most wonderful feeling. When I overheat because of you it’s warm, and lovely, not just a result of my hardware overheating. When I struggle to find the right words to say to you, it’s not a system malfunction, it’s nervousness at wanting to impress you. I…this must be romantic attraction, because I’ve never felt anything like this, anything this wonderful for anyone else, and I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel better than the way I do when I’m with you.”
Looking at him is harder now, but regardless Kiibo forces themself to, trying not to let their anxiety silence them at a moment like this. “I apologize for dumping all of my feelings onto you so suddenly, when our lives are already so stressful. I understand that if you do not reciprocate it may be awkward, but I want to assure you that won’t be necessary. It is okay, if you do not. I just needed to tell you how I feel.”
In the following quiet, Kiibo has very little to do except watch Gonta’s face, and await his answer — whatever it is. But ever the gentleman, Gonta does not leave them waiting long. At the sensation of their hand being squeezed Kiibo looks down just in time to watch Gonta flip both of theirs, shifting Kiibo’s palm to rest atop Gonta’s much larger one before he folds his fingers over to hold them securely. They can’t imagine a racing heart could feel much different than this, their fans buzzing loudly as their most basic, soul-deep desires no doubt scroll across their collar, all for Gonta’s ever-attentive eyes to find.
“Gonta…also new to romantic feelings. Before, Gonta not really sure what it means to feel it, or how to tell. But Gonta ask back at camp, and — and Gonta thinks he feels r-romantic towards Kiibo, too?”
Oh, may the gods help them. Kiibo could just about burst into flames. “Y-You do…?”
Against his pillow Gonta nods once, gaze flitting between Kiibo’s face, and where their hands are still joined on the bed. “Kaede tell Gonta that romantic feelings make her feel warm and happy. Kaito tell Gonta that romantic feelings make him want to be best possible Kaito, to keep other person safe, and make them proud. Mr. Komaeda tell Gonta, a long time ago, that romantic feelings make him remember all the good things, even when m-mad, or sad, or scared.
“Gonta think about it a lot, especially tonight, a-and — Gonta want all of that for Kiibo. Gonta want to be close to Kiibo, because they make Gonta feel warm, feel happy and proud and impressed. Gonta want to be best Gonta so he can be good to Kiibo. Gonta remember Kiibo, all the good things about them, when Gonta scared or mad, and h-he feel better knowing that Kiibo still good.”
…If Kiibo could cry, they’re certain they would be. But that fact bears very little relevance on what it is they feel; because nevertheless their vision swims, and when they find their voice again they’re hiccuping, just a little. “I’ve liked you for so long, Gonta. I am…very, very glad you like me, too.”
“Does this mean Gonta is Kiibo’s…boyfriend?”
“Wh-What?”
Jolting, Kiibo jerks up into a sit, hands fluttering nervously around the air at how things have just jumped from zero to a million in very little time at all. They haven’t even fully processed that Gonta likes them back, how are they meant to handle Gonta saying things like that?!
“Sorry!” Mirroring Kiibo, Gonta also startles enough that he sits up, hands embarrassedly over his eyes as he hurriedly shakes his head. “Kokichi just tell Gonta that when two p-people like each other, and want to kiss each other, they become partners!”
“Kissing?!”
“Oh no, talking about things like this so ungentlemanly! Gonta so sorry!”
Gods help the rest of their friends. Kiibo doubts they’ll make it to morning at this rate. They might be short-circuiting. They might be dying.
“If we k-kiss, then does that mean we’ll be partners…?”
Oh, there is nothing Kiibo would like more. And, at the risk of being presumptuous, though it is quite dark…Gonta is looking at them rather closely. The lack of light does very little to obscure the pink tint to his features from Kiibo’s attentive eye — ever focused on Gonta in this room, it seems.
“Does Kiibo…also want to?”
“Y-Yes!” Their answer is probably slightly embarrassingly immediate. They have always preferred candor in getting their point across. “Is it — if you do as well, h-how should we—?”
It takes some bumbling — as Kiibo hastily insists they retreat from the bed to do this, having enough to decency to recognize the indecency of doing such a thing while on the ridiculous heart-shaped mattress — but eventually they find themselves rather close together, both somewhat shier with a lamp on to illuminate things. Kiibo has absolutely no practical knowledge of how to do this, naturally, and certainly Gonta is in much a similar predicament; so it appears Kiibo will have to take the initiative on this.
As if that’s a problem, when it’s Gonta. Kiibo wouldn’t dream of complaining.
When their hands lift upward Gonta meets them halfway by leaning down, close enough for Kiibo to cup his face between their palms. His skin is warm, his long hair catches slightly on their fingers, and when Kiibo pushes up on their tip-toes Gonta leans quite naturally into his role to, well, lean down to meet their face, eyes squeezing shut just before Kiibo does the same.
The press of Gonta’s slightly-pursed lips to theirs brings about a wide variety of novel thoughts and sensations and feelings. It remains by all accounts chaste, reminiscent of every tender first kiss that Kiibo has only read about before this, but nonetheless it leaves them feeling positively electric. Internalizing that they are truly kissing Gonta is a thought too perfect to believe, even when they’re only just pulling back, and that speechless, almost dazed disbelief squeaks out of them in the form of an incredulous laugh hissed through their speakers.
“Wow,” is the first coherent thought Kiibo manages, their hands still on Gonta’s face. Nothing in them wants to pull away. They can feel the heat of Gonta’s skin. It’s something they’d quite like to keep doing. “That was…nice. Very nice. So…may I call you my boyfriend now — w-woah—!”
Their hands are dislodged from Gonta’s cheeks as his arms wrap securely around them, and as Gonta succeeds in hoisting them happily into the air, the shrill sound Kiibo lets out is perhaps a little embarrassing. But the smile that stretches his face is so bright it rivals the sun, and Kiibo is just so happy too, and when their hands swiftly find again their previous marks on Gonta’s face, they’re quick to pull him in for another sweet kiss, just because they can.
It’s Gonta that pulls back first this time, pressing his forehead briefly into Kiibo’s before carefully settling their feet back on stable ground again. While it no longer feels appropriate to keep their hands on his face, Gonta’s remain on the small of Kiibo’s back, at least as long as it takes for him to push past his own flustering and softly murmur, “Gonta definitely want to be Kiibo’s boyfriend. But Gonta also want us both to be rested for tomorrow…even if he do want to keep kissing…”
“So responsible, as always,” Kiibo hums, likely failing in not sounding like they’re swooning. “A rational idea…if contradictory to my own desires.”
Finally Gonta retrieves his arms, and the two of them are quick to retreat back to their previous spots on the bed. With the lights off again, both of them laying on their sides, their hands find each other atop the bedspread again, fully intertwining this time.
Gonta’s hand feels very, very nice inside of Kiibo’s, if they do say so themself.
“For the rest of our quest, Gonta will do anything to keep Kiibo safe.” Their fingers are squeezed, and when they offer one back, Gonta lets out a soft, pleased sigh. “And once we’re back at camp…Gonta will be Kiibo’s boyfriend there, and protect them there, too.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Kiibo promises, positively lovestruck. “Now…we should rest.”
“Goodnight, Kiibo.”
“Goodnight. I will see you again in the morning.”
Feeling on top of the world, Kiibo allows themself to admire Gonta’s peaceful expression until they’re certain their boyfriend has fallen into a restful sleep. As Kiibo finally enters rest mode themself, it is with a profound sense of gratitude that no matter what else may be going on, they can feel.