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Ishimaru’s a mess of twanging rubbers inside, but he projects that usual stern expression he’s practiced over the years from being hall monitor. He wants to drool, he wants to drop down to his knees and keen longingly at how everyone’s standing up straight in listening to Monobear’s speech. But he can’t, no, not yet.
The game has started and they are required to act as pawns for the time being.
Their creation; Monobear, the monochrome teddy, wasn’t that hard to make to be honest, Ishimaru just had to read books and Mondo just had to be extra delicate; prances and sneers on stage and it’s like watching an offspring grow wings and fly. It’s so perfect.
Ishimaru glances at his significant other; of course they have to act like they were strangers, how despairing!; and finds out Mondo already has been giving him a patented glare. The look is almost hungry and Ishimaru wants to reprimand Mondo for being suspicious, but the expression’s so good on him, so fucking fitting and he has to curl his fists so he doesn’t end up kneeling between Mondo’s legs.
It’s like watching the world fall apart in slow motion, but better.
He looks back to the mechanical teddy bear and pretends to focus. He doesn’t need to size anyone up, he’s known them for years, he knows each and every one of his classmates like they’re part of him. Not as well as Mondo, of course, but close enough.
It will be glorious when despair comes into play for them.
//
A shadow lurks in the hallways way past midnight, and stops at a particular door. It’s easy, their rooms are right next to each other. Ishimaru had protested against that strongly, but Mondo changed things on the last minute. Hell, he can bear doing all of this pretending for the sake of promised despair, but he needs to at least get laid some time!
Mondo raps at Ishimaru’s door gently, just so no one else could hear.
“Ishimaru,” he whispers against the wood, knowing full well his counterpart couldn’t hear him like that, “Open up.”
The door does open a creak and Ishimaru looks at him from the slight opening of the door before moving to close it again. Mondo jams his foot in the small space.
“Open the fuckin’ door, Ishimaru.”
“No. You’re breaking the rules Celes-kun set up, Oowada-kun.”
Mondo groans loud enough for them both to hear, and then some, “Babe, can you not do this? Open the door. I wanna see you. We haven’t broken in your new dorm bed, either,” he murmurs that last part, definitely eager, but Ishimaru just gives him a hard look from the slight opening of the door and shakes his head.
“Rules are rules, Kyoudai.”
“You fuckin’ suck. Here’s a new rule for you, you stubborn fuck,” he whispers harshly, leaning to glare at Ishimaru, “Be at the control room by 4. Compulsory attendance.”
The door opens suddenly and Ishimaru has a beatific grin on his face. He’s wearing nothing but sleep pants and his sarashi and Mondo throbs with want. “Yes, sir,” Ishimaru does a mock salute and leans to chastely peck Mondo on the lips, before catching his lower lip with teeth, and bites down none too gently. He pulls back and makes a show of licking his own lips, before moving to close the door again, “Don’t you dare be late, Kyoudai.”
//
It takes Ishimaru about ten minutes of complete silence before he moves from his seat on the sauna bench to slide over onto Mondo’s lap, tossing the towel carelessly where he previously sat, “Do you think he is gone?”
“Yeah,” Mondo breathes out and smirks at Ishimaru despite how he’s sweating, hands gently resting on smaller hips, “He’s gone, alright.”
“Naegi-kun is sort of cute,” Ishimaru’s tone of voice is contemplating, and he chuckles lightly, “It would be lovely to watch him break down in tears.”
The purr Mondo makes at that is intoxicating. He leans to kiss Ishimaru on the shoulder, drag his tongue along the moist skin, not even caring about the salty aftertaste. He smacks his lips and purrs once again, “I missed you. Missed you squirming about in my lap. On my dick.”
Just to prove a point, Ishimaru squirms just so, baring his teeth in a grin. He wraps his arms around Mondo’s neck and leans against him heavily, “I cannot wait till tomorrow. I simply cannot.”
Mondo laughs at the eager nip Ishimaru gives him on the ear, and he digs his thumbs right over Ishimaru’s hip bones in retaliation, “Till Fujisaki dies, or till I do, baby?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
The harsh tug to his pompadour, and the bruising kiss Ishimaru graciously bestows upon him assures him that yes, the hall monitor is really looking forward to his death.
//
It would make the eventual despair so much sweeter. So much better, to the point that it would be fucking orgasmic when things go to shit.
Friendship. What an undeniably simple thing.
Their joined laughter is loud enough for everyone to hear, and some are glad, some couldn’t care less, some are annoyed. It doesn’t matter. Ishimaru could actually touch Mondo again in public, and while that is a relief on its own, the knowledge that this wouldn’t be for long is just as great as well.
Mondo has an arm slung around Ishimaru’s neck, he could barely feel the edge of a nail there, poised right over his jugular. Like a blunt knife, Mondo could just curl his fingers and exert pressure, and Ishimaru would be spraying red all over the floor. They laugh again, with fond exclamations of “Oh, Kyoudai!” and Ishimaru felt giddy.
Like thick coats of tar on his tongue and teeth, he could feel the upcoming despair in his mouth.
//
It reverberates in his veins; he could feel every thrum of a hitched sob, every scrap of a piteous look in his direction, every iota of mind-numbing fear of his classmates, thinking to themselves about who could be next. Thinking if their life would end the next day.
Ishimaru could weep tears of joy.
But instead he stares into the distance, at nothing at all, to keep the illusion of being deep in sorrow. He’s dancing a fucking jig inside, but of course that wouldn’t do. The only downside to this is that he couldn’t fuck Mondo’s brains out just yet, because his Kyoudai is dead, see, he’s dead and he’s not supposed to be alive till Ishimaru joins him. Which would be soon as well, if things go exactly according to plan.
He loves the looks Naegi gives him. Loves how Asahina sheds tears and tries to console him by rubbing his back, kissing his head. He loves the thought of Mondo jerking off to the sight of him with a blank face, looking lost. He could get hard just with the imagery.
He can’t wait to die himself.
//
“I would have preferred one of your executions for me, Kyoudai, I won’t lie,” Ishimaru slides his palms over Mondo’s bare chest, his fingers coming off as oily and thick afterwards. He had lathered butter all over Mondo, in some sick symbolic celebration, and Mondo had groaned his name in the best way possible.
Mondo grins at him from his vantage point, and grabs a handful of Ishimaru’s hair before caressing his face, “And you’re gonna get one. In due time, babe, I’ll make it fuckin’ explosive.”
“No spoilers, “Ishimaru counters, but gives Mondo a kiss anyways, slow and languid.
The gang leader breaks the kiss with a teasing lick, and looks up at the ceiling, “Poor Ishida though. He won’t even see it coming.”
A sigh leaves Ishimaru’s lips and he nods regretfully, “Very true. I love him as much as the next guy, but let’s face it. It’s hard to push him in despair. He’s always so…lively. Which is a little unbecoming but I sure like that enthusiasm.”
He looks up at Mondo’s laughter, and pats the other’s shoulder in a silent reprimand. There isn’t a chance that anyone might hear them; they’re up on another floor; but he doesn’t like to be laughed at like that. Mondo reassures him with a nudge of a foot and smirks, “That’s precisely why we decided to off him, right? But seriously, he looks so much like you now it’s getting really hard to not want to split his ass open—“
“Touch him and I’ll carve a hole into you, Oowada-kun, you know fair well I would. And I’ll fuck him for good measure too.” Mondo’s eyes narrow at that, at the second sentence and he rolls his eyes dramatically after a while. Obviously brushing it off as he turns and pulls Ishimaru into a hug, tangling their legs together.
“He’s not worth any holes from ya, Kyoudai,” Mondo runs a palm along Ishimaru’s back, voice a low murmur. Soothing. Nails dig in the flesh of his back then; a warning, “And I sure as hell don’t want him gettin’ his grubby hands all over you. Fuck, I’d dunk you in bleach if he does.”
Ishimaru smiles to himself, arms sliding up to wrap around Mondo’s neck, “Good to know.” He kisses his significant other once more, in the same lazy movement of lips as before, and murmurs against him gently, “Hey, Kyoudai?”
“Mn?”
“I’m sure Daiya-sama is very, very proud of you at this moment.”
Mondo’s silent for a while before he bares his teeth in a grin and laughs loud, his hands darting to Ishimaru’s neck and long fingers wrap around it, his thumbs pressing hard into Ishimaru’s windpipe. He rolls over so he ends up straddling his counterpart, and Ishimaru’s beaming, tears coming to his eyes because of the lack of air.
“You fuckin’ bastard, oh god, Ishimaru, you horrible piece of shit,” Mondo gasps, shuddering hard over Ishimaru, expression one of utter bliss, “I fuckin’ love you, you utter disaster, you perfect thing –“
Ishimaru drags him down for a harsh mash of their lips, and he breathes in Mondo’s air noisily and it feels wonderful, it feels like paradise and they’re so close to their goal it’s overwhelming.
Just a little longer.
//
He’s dead. Technically, he’s dead, they all saw an exact replica of him lying on the floor with blood pooling by his head, his skull caved in by blunt force trauma, his white, white uniform gone all red. It’s not him per se, but he’s dead! That’s the consensus everyone had agreed on.
Dying feels fucking amazing.
Ishimaru rushes over to the control room, where the magic happens. Where they spend most of their time in ever since they enrolled in Hope’s Peak, where they’ve watched their friends live and laugh and cry and sleep and Mondo’s there, Mondo’s waiting for him.
Up the fourth floor in the middle of the night, and he opens the door with his set of keys and he locks it behind him. He could see the back of Mondo’s head from the main chair at the biggest computer. The extreme eagerness tapers away for a moment as he walks closer, his steel of his boots clack clacking on the floor. He’s about two steps away from Mondo when the other turns around in the chair, grinning like a wild thing.
Mondo grabs at Ishimaru’s waist at the same time Ishimaru leaps on him, straddling his lap. The chair almost tips over backwards from the force, but when it recoils back forward, it pushes Mondo deliciously against Ishimaru’s chest.
“Kyoudai,” He says it deep and rough, and the desire dripping through his voice is as thick as butter, “Finally.”
“Finally,” Ishimaru nods and he’s gone all breathless, proceeding to kiss Mondo desperately. Their lips slide together hard, teeth clacking against each other and it’s alright, it’s really good because this is Mondo and his very existence makes Ishimaru ache to the core. He wants to kill Mondo so bad, he wants to fuck his Kyoudai so hard it’s clouding his mind with how much craving he has stored inside of him, and it’s a form of despair he never wants to be away from.
Mondo grabs at his ass, straight forward man like he is, and Ishimaru moans into Mondo’s mouth, digging his fingers into the flesh of the other’s shoulders. He’s disgusting and infuriating and lovely and perfect and Ishimaru feels like he’s come home, finally.
They had come all this way for the sake of despair, for the glorious chaotic order, and they’re so close to the ultimate goal. So close it’s a tangible taste on their tongues, as they kiss, swapping the bitter black sludge of despair and they let it slide down their throats and rot their insides because truly, this is what they live for.
In the end, Ishimaru and Mondo are the ones who despair the most.