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Typically, Shuichi would be the one to make dinner on these types of occasions. Still , Kokichi thought. How hard could it possibly be?
Very. The answer was ‘very hard.’ The recipe threw in a hidden step that he completely skimmed over, he ended up burning half of the noodles and had to make another batch of dumplings, but by the end, he would dare to say that he was proud of the result. Humming along to the song playing on the speakers, Kokichi danced around the kitchen, preparing the table and plating dinner for two.
“Shuichi~!” He called in a sing-song voice, swearing under his breath as he nearly dropped the two plates he was holding. He made sure to be a bit more careful walking the rest of the way to the table, setting one plate on either side. He grabbed two wine glasses, filling his own with grape soda and filling Shuichi’s with coffee. They were weird like that. But hey, at least they weren’t alcoholics! Right?
Turning down the volume of the speakers, Kokichi tried to light the candle on the table. Unfortunately, he struggled with the lighter and decided, fuck it , tossing the lighter back on the counter. He’d never been the biggest fan of candles, anyways. With a heavy, exaggerated sigh, he straightened out his outfit, the exact same one from their wedding—a white suit and pants with a ruffled, silk undershirt and a checkered tie, topped off with his purple loafers—and plopped down into his seat. He grinned.
“I made your favorite! Beef and dumplings, just for my beloved~” Resting his head in his palm, he looked across the table, biting his cheek. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know! Tch. Making the Ultimate Supreme Leader serve you ra-ther than the other way around!” He couldn’t stop his voice from cracking as he looked at Shuichi’s face. His lip trembled, and the smile faltered. He reached out with a single hand, picking up the picture frame.
He has the smile of an angel, Kokichi had first thought when he was walked down the aisle and saw Shuichi beaming at him. Now, that angelic smile was permanently graved into the image, one from their wedding day. Kokichi could still remember the flutter in his stomach as Shuichi, quite literally, swept him off of his feet.
“Shuichiiiiiiiiii!” Kokichi hugged his arm, tugging on it and whining. “I’m being chased by my debt-collectors and the mafia leaders I’ve angered! Rescue your Supreme Leader!” Shuichi raised an eyebrow out of amusement.
“You’re being chased, huh?”
“Yep yep! So that’s why I need you to- woah!” Kokichi let out an embarrassing yelp as his feet left the ground, feeling his cheeks heat up when a pair of strong arms picked up him bridal style. He instinctively wrapped his arms around Shuichi’s neck, his blush worsening at seeing the smug smile he had on his face.
“There. Nothing can hurt you now, can it?” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling his nose into Shuichi’s cheek.
“My knight in shining armor~”
“Aw, how cute!” Mahiru held her camera to her eye. “Hehe… say cheese!”
“Cheeeeese!” Kokichi leant back, bringing one hand up to hold a peace sign.
“K-Kokichi!” Shuichi laughed, tightening his grasp on his husband. The camera flashed, capturing both of their off guard smiles. “I don’t want to drop you!”
“Nishishi~ I’m not worried! I know that my beloved will catch me! Shuichi always protects me~”
“It’s almost been a year, now. Today is our fourth wedding anniversary.” As if to punctuate the point, Kokichi fiddled with the ring on his finger, slipping it off, then slipping it back on. After Shuichi was confirmed dead, he’d thrown it off of a bridge and into a river. He’d then proceeded to have a panic attack and almost jump off of the bridge after it because fuck, fuck I’m such an idiot, why did I do that? That’s the last thing I have of him- fuck. Fuck! Rantaro and Kiibo had found him, and after calming him down and getting him to tell them what happened, Rantaro spent five hours searching the river for the damned thing. Soaked and shivering, he’d handed the ring back to Kokichi with a smile and said, “Try not to be so clumsy next time, yeah? I’m sure it was just an accident.” He was lying. Still, Kokichi mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ as he dried it off and slipped the ring back onto his finger. Despite sitting in freezing water, it felt warm on his skin. Comforting.
“It’s pretty cruel, isn’t it? For you to barge into my life and love me. To make me fall in love with you, and then leave so suddenly.” He looked into his eyes in the picture, a pang going through his chest. Shuichi’s eyes were so beautiful that he couldn’t help but be mesmerized the moment he’d finally taken off that stupid (endearing) emo hat. And oh , he realized as his vision turned blurry. I’m crying .
Although Rantaro had ‘said’ that it was an accident, Kiibo must have let the real reason slip to someone, because Kaede asked him why he would do such a thing. Why would he throw away something so important? He told her that it was because he never loved Shuichi in the first place. He was just a pawn being strung along for his entertainment.
She didn’t believe him.
The real reason? He couldn’t stand to look at anything that reminded him of Shuichi. The problem? He was everywhere . In the house, in his camera roll, in their friend’s mouths. Even when he went outside to escape it, he would catch a whiff of coffee or spot a place that they’d once walked past or went on a date to. Shuichi was even on Kokichi himself when he looked in the mirror.
He’d cried when he looked at the bruises one day and realized that the last of Shuichi’s marks were fading. It was like getting punched in the gut, the undeniable truth that every part left of Shuichi was slipping away from him and that there was nothing he could do about it. Well, basically nothing. Angie offered to tattoo them permanently for him. He only got one, though, a mark on his collarbone that was easily able to be hidden. For him and him only.
“Pretty kinky, huh? I’ve got one of your hickies eternally on my body!” The laugh he tried to force out sounded more like a choked cry. “I-I wonder if you’d yell at me. Nah, you’d probably get all flustered and embarrassed and turn red like an idiot.” He sniffled. “I… I like the reminder. That you were there, before.”
“Geez!” Kokichi tilted his head, looking in the mirror. “I didn’t know that I was dating a rabid beast!”
“I-I’m sorry!” Shuichi wheezed, keeling over and hiding his face in his hands. He was mumbling something inaudible, probably ‘oh god this is so embarrassing I’m so sorry Kokichi I’m sorry those are going to be so hard to hide—’ Kokichi laughed. Shuichi’s face was painted red with embarrassment, Kokichi’s neck was painted purple with lovebites.
He’d never admit that he liked them. The proof that Shuichi had been there. That was far too embarrassing to admit. Still, that wouldn’t stop him from teasing Shuichi about them.
“It’s fine~ Your merciful leader spares you!” With a wicked grin, he licked his lips and stalked towards the bed, a soft affection tugging at his heart with the bashful smile Shuichi offered him. The detective knew where this was going. He was smart like that.
“I suppose I’ll just have to return the favor, hm?”
Miu made him a small robot—about the side of an alarm clock—that would alert him with reminders to do basic necessities, such as eat, sleep, shower. The robot looked and sounded like Shuichi. When she first gave it to him, he tried to smash it on the ground. Then it said, ‘Goodmorning, Kokichi!’ and he froze mid swing, because he couldn’t destroy something that sounded like the person he’d woken up to every morning for three years.
Ryoma and Korekiyo gave him advice for making the grief a bit more manageable. Kirumi and Maki came to the house every so often to check up on him and help him clean if he’d let the house turn into a mess. Tsumugi invited him over to bingewatch stupid shows that he didn’t pay attention to nor care about, and Gonta took him out on walks through nature and they would have picnics in flower fields, sitting in the warmth of the sun. They were all pitying him and he hated it. But it helped.
“I hate you, y’know? Why’d you have to go and leave me like this?” The fork twirled in his hand. Reluctantly, he poked a piece of meat and placed it in his mouth. Shuichi would want me to eat , was his motivation for doing so. He chewed slowly, almost feeling sick just by having it in his mouth. He swallowed dryly, grimacing as it scratched down his throat. One piece down, just the entire plate left to go.
The majority of Kokichi’s meals in the beginning had been fast food or microwave dinners on the couch, ‘watching’ whatever was on the television (not really paying attention to, but using it as a distraction). It made stomaching the food easier if he had something on to stop his mind from wandering. It was a dangerous thing, when his mind wandered. Left alone with his thoughts. Shuichi could always help with that. Just his presence alone was enough to pacify the ping pong ball machine that was his brain. That’s why he often wore Shuichi’s clothes, to try and feel like he was still there with his arms around him. The majority of the time, it didn’t work. It could never amount to the real Shuichi. Without Shuichi… the ping pong ball ricocheted.
“I think about joining you a lot. Tried to, too. But your dumb astronaut friend stopped me.” He mustered up the courage to shove another bite in his mouth. He had to hold back his gag, chewing quick enough that he could swallow and get the texture out of his mouth. He took a sip of his Panta, hoping that it would help his dry throat. It didn’t.
“Fuck off, Kaito! Let go of me!”
“No way! There’s no way I’m gonna let you do that!”
“I hate you! I hate Shuichi, I hate all of you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you! Maki’s a whore! You’re an idiot!”
“Stop lying, Kokichi.”
“I’m not lying!” Kaito pulled his back closer into his chest, and Kokichi broke out into screaming sobs. “I don’t want to do this- I want to die with him!”
“I’m not going to let you do that.”
“Why not?!” Kokichi thrashed his arm around, trying to just get him off . He managed to get a hold on Kaito’s elbow. He dug his nails into his skin and scratched.
“Because I know Shuichi wouldn’t want that.”
“Who gives a damn what he wants?!” Kokichi found another grip and scratched again. “Shuichi is dead ! It doesn’t matter what he wants!”
“Kokichi…” Kaito’s voice lowered, and he felt the arms around him shaking. “You’re grieving, dude. Just… let it out.” And after his limbs failed on him, the pain in his chest so sharp and so painful he wasn’t able to fight back any longer, he screamed. He screamed his lungs out, sobbing and clutching at Kaito as he turned him around and pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t Shuichi’s hugs, though. Shuichi’s hugs were warm, and soft, and strong, and he smelled like coffee and cinnamon and vanilla and old books and fireplace wood and home. Shuichi summed up in one word: home. Home that he wanted to curl up in forever and never leave. Kaito’s hug was rough, and sharp, and his beard was scratchy against his face and it made Kokichi want to rip his skin off of his bones. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, it helped. There was the small comfort in having someone else there, rather than clutching a cold pillow and pretending that it was Shuichi.
“I guess I have to thank that idiot, don’t I?” He frowned. “...Do I? I don’t… I don’t know what I’m still doing here.” The lump in his throat worsened, and he wiped his eyes again. “I don’t have a reason without you here. I don’t… I don’t know what to do…” Exhaling, he leant back in his chair, looking anywhere but his plate. He could feel in his gut if he took another bite, at least right now, that he’d be sick. He’d gotten used to recognizing that, when his body was warning him.
When Kokichi first saw Shuichi’s body in the casket—pale, lifeless, stiff—he went numb. Tenko caught on that something was wrong far sooner than he did, because she’d dragged him into the bathroom just in time for his knees to collapse under him and for him to vomit into the toilet, heaving and choking on the little food Kirumi had managed to get him to eat earlier that morning. Tenko tied his hair back with one of her hair ties and knelt next to him, rubbing his back and holding him, reassuring him and guiding him so he didn’t suffocate himself on bile. Never in a million years had he thought Tenko would be the one comforting him. He thinks that’s part of what helped it all set in, the truth that Shuichi was gone.
Kokichi’s knuckles went white grasping the edge of the casket. Even in death, Shuichi somehow still couldn’t quite reach peace. Was he still worrying about cases even in the afterlife? It wouldn’t be all that surprising for a workaholic such as himself. It made Kokichi… sad. Sad that Shuichi couldn’t rest. The only time he’d ever seemed at peace was with Kokichi, as much as he had trouble believing it. Shuichi’s shoulders were too tense, and the suit looked uncomfortable on him. If he were alive, he’d surely be tugging at his cuffs and adjusting his tie.
But he wasn’t alive. Shuichi was dead.
Reaching a gentle hand out, Kokichi brushed a strand of hair away. He cupped his face, running his thumb across Shuichi’s cheek. Cold. Shuichi was so, so cold. Kokichi inhaled shakily, leaning forward. He nudged his nose against Shuichi’s then, closing his eyes, gave him one last kiss.
If someone asked him to, he couldn’t quite describe it. Odd, would probably be the word he would land on. It’s odd.
“I love you, Shuichi.” he murmured against his lips, taking in every small detail of his face. His eyelashes. His nose. His jaw. His lips. Him. “...Goodbye, my beloved.” As he stepped away from the coffin, a strong hand squeezed his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“...You didn’t kill him, right, Kaito?”
“Well- no, but-”
“Then don’t say anything. Just… don’t say a thing.”
He laughed. “I miss you. A lot. And that’s not a lie.” He licked his lips. They were dry and chapped. They felt cold. He missed Shuichi’s kisses. “...The other thing was, though. A lie, I mean. I don’t hate you.” He took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts.” He giggled. “If you were here, you’d… I dunno. Probably say something dumb. Like, ‘move on! I’ll be happy as long as you’re happy!’” He stretched a hand out, reaching for Shuichi’s, like how he did whenever they sat across from each other like this. Shuichi would always grab his hand and squeeze, running a thumb over his knuckles while giving him a stupid smile that made his heart jump from his stomach to his throat.
No one grabbed his hand. He settled for placing it on the table instead. “But… the truth is, I won’t ever move on. Because… I don’t think anyone could make me as happy as you did. And I don’t want anyone that isn’t you. You’re the only one to understand me.” The house around him felt so empty without Shuichi there. He hadn’t moved any of his things in the eight months he’d been gone. He couldn’t bear to. He’d considered that, maybe, if he messed up Shuichi’s perfectly organized bookshelves he might crawl up from the grave just to scold him, but he knew that was a lie and that was impossible, and the only thing that would do is create a gnawing guilt that would eat away at him from the inside out like a metal claw. Maybe one day he’d find the courage to go through it all. One day.
“I think of you every day. From the moment I wake up, actually. I don’t like waking up in an empty bed again. I… I want you back.”
“Nyeh… When did you start drinking coffee, Kokichi?”
“Hm? Whatever do you mean, Himiko?”
“You hate coffee,” she mumbled, tiredly rubbing her eyes. They were bloodshot—from crying, likely. “You only like drinking soda.”
“Non-non! That’s not true! I like chocolate milk, too!”
“But not coffee?” Kokichi smiled bitterly, almost as much so as the coffee that he tipped down his throat, burning. His face twisted up into a grimace as he pulled the cup away. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.”
“I’m an evil Supreme Leader, Himiko,” he muttered, fidgeting with the cup absentmindedly. “There’s no reasoning behind my actions.”
He grabbed the box of tissues he’d set out in preparation and blew his nose. “Gross… meanie Shuichi making me all snotty.” He dared to take another look at his plate, his stomach now feeling a bit easier. “...Are you proud of me? For making dinner? I didn’t burn the house down! Or cut my finger! Nishishi… that would’ve been a shame. I wouldn’t have anyone here to fix it up for me.” He swallowed, once again fidgeting with his ring. “...I think you’d be proud of me. Maybe. I don’t know. Do you want me to come to you, Shuichi? Because… ‘Cuz I—”
Ding-ding! His watch vibrated, and a soft jingle played. ‘Good evening, Kokichi.’ The tiny Shuichi popped up on the screen. ‘You typically eat dinner around this time. I see you haven’t yet, so please make sure you do! I love you!’ Puffing air from his nose in a half-suppressed laugh, he clicked the screen to confirm the message.
“Yeah… sure thing, Shumai.” He picked up his wine glass filled with Panta. Lightly dinking it against the glass of coffee in front of him, he smiled weakly.
“Happy anniversary, Shuichi. I love you.”