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Kiyotaka Ishimaru closed his eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his seat. His seat happened to be Mondo Oowada, but neither of them minded their current position. In fact, they were both contented and peaceful, simply enjoying being near each other, and able to relax for the first time in god knows how long. Oowada ran his fingers though Ishimaru’s hair, a repetitive motion which they both found to be soothing, and shifted his leg to regain feeling after Taka’s weight had begun to cut off the blood supply.
He could barely believe how lucky he was to have ended up with someone to curl up on in a large, warm, velvet arm chair. Couldn’t believe his years of loneliness had finally ended, and that they had been ended by someone as wonderful as Mondo. He had so much to thank him for, he didn’t know where to begin; couldn’t possibly think of the words needed to express the sheer joy and happiness that Mondo brought him each and every day.
Their relationship had initially been closer to that of enemies than friends, however. Taka still remembered the first few days of this school nightmare, all confusion and horror and disbelief. Meeting new people had never been a strength of his. His first impressions tended to be negative, with people often coming away from their first meeting terribly bored or agitated by his insistence on political topics of conversation, or laughing at him for his unfortunate lack of social skills and grace. He found it hard to make friends, and being thrown into such a nightmarish situation as the one he currently found himself in made it all the more difficult. He truly wanted to believe in the good of his classmates; that they were good people and incapable of murder, but some small part of him worried that if anybody could be a potential target, it would be him. If nobody liked him, he would have no friends to stick with him and make this despair bearable. No allies to help him promote the values of working together or to stick up for him if need be.
Although he could hardly believe it had happened, he remembered how he had bickered and fought with Mondo Oowada; his ridiculous hair and blatant disregard for others. They disagreed about anything and everything, but it had felt so natural to argue with him; their titles had clashed so perfectly. The Ultimate Moral Compass and the Ultimate Gang leader; they were born in opposition. It almost formed a reassuring sense of routine, that Mondo would always be there breaking one rule or another and Kiyotaka would do his best to enforce them, how they could have the same argument every day yet never grow tired of it.
They had argued about manliness, and that’s where it had begun.
The sauna had changed things, and even Ishimaru himself couldn’t quite point out how or why. Perhaps they’d both just simultaneously realised that the battle for manliness was a manly act in itself that was to be respected. Men competed to be the best and showed other men how much stronger they were. And they had looked at each other and realised that the sauna was hot and uncomfortable and neither of them really wanted to be there anymore and maybe they could both be strong in their own way. Respect had been born from the fire and sweat of competition. They emerged as brothers, and spent every waking moment together from then on.
The day began when Ishimaru woke Mondo up so that he wouldn’t be late to the daily meetings he continued to hold even after the death of three of their friends; a service that had originally pissed Oowada off to no end. He was used to sleeping in as late as he wanted to, and didn’t appreciate being conscious before ten o’clock. They ate together, Ishimaru insisting Oowada make healthier choices which would benefit him in the long run. Mondo had pointed out there probably wouldn’t be a “long-run”. They trained together in the state-of-the-art gym, pushing each other to lift more and run faster and improve. They then spent time together, simply with each other or some of the others, and whilst Taka maintained his conviction that nobody else would commit murder, Mondo did his best to ignore the very real threat that anyone could be planning on hurting one of them, and mentally promised himself not to let that happen. They ate lunch together, Mondo always with his arm around Ishimaru’s shoulders. Afternoons were the time when anything was possible.
Very occasionally, Makoto Naegi would try and engage in conversation with one of them; it appeared that he was trying to befriend each of the other students, and Oowada wondered what his motive could be. Trying to ensure everyone got along so there’d be no more killings? Trying to befriend everyone so that nobody would kill him? Trying to make himself look friendly so nobody would suspect him of murder? In the end, Mondo knew he couldn’t understand Makoto’s motives, and decided that, in all honesty, it didn’t matter. Even if Naegi attempted to hurt him or Kiyotaka, Mondo would never let either of them get hurt, and privately knew he felt comfortable with sacrificing himself to keep Taka safe. As long as Taka was safe, nothing else was important.
It was gradual, and so, neither of them noticed the physical contact. Ishimaru took every opportunity to lean his head on Mondo, Oowada held onto Kiyotaka’s shoulder when he made his morning announcements about, well, whatever he made announcements about. He felt a little embarrassed to admit it to himself, but Mondo had never once listened to the morning announcement, preferring to simply enjoy the feeling of standing next to Taka and feeling his muscles roll under his skin as he moved his arms in exaggerated gestures.
They took it further.
They walked along the corridors holding hands. It had been initiated following a comment made by Asahina, an off-the-cuff remark about the two of them making a cute couple, and initially, their minds had both privately raced to deny it, that they weren’t a couple and didn’t want to be; that they would never be. Yet neither of them voiced these thoughts, rather left them trapped and unaired. Sakura had responded that real couples held hands, a knowing smile gracing her harsh features. Kiyotaka looked to Mondo, and Mondo looked to Kiyotaka. Their hands found each other silently, without the need to plan it. It seemed as if it were inevitable.
At night, they had begun visiting each other. It had begun when they were in the middle of a particularly enjoyable discussion about something or other, and neither had wanted to stop talking. Kiyotaka would later find it almost funny how he couldn’t even be certain what the topic of conversation had been which convinced him that it was acceptable to break curfew, even if only occasionally. After everyone else had gone to sleep, Mondo had snuck into Kiyotaka’s room. Ishimaru wouldn’t allow himself to break curfew by leaving his own room to visit Mondo, but this had been an acceptable compromise.
Mondo had awkwardly sat on the end of Taka’s bed, trying to avoid looking at the other boy. He was towards the end of time period in which he was denying that he felt the same way about boys that his brother had always said he’d grow up to feel about girls, and this first sleepover had been paramount to his quiet self-acceptance, which had ended up being less of the life-changing moment he had been considering, and more of a feeling that this was okay. He’d always been told to go after the hot ones, the ones with the biggest chests and the prettiest faces. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He only wanted to think about what Ishimaru was saying, only ever wanted to think about him, red eyes ablaze as he explained his belief in hard work. It resonated with Mondo, and the work he had put in to gaining the respect of his gang. But more than that, he simply liked how happy Taka looked. He liked Taka.
When they were both so giddy and tired from bending the rules that they had to go to sleep, Mondo didn’t want to leave the warmth of Ishimaru’s bed. Tentatively, he slid himself under the covers next to Kiyotaka, glad for the darkness which hid his blush. Neither of them knew what they were doing, having never shared such a tiny bed with someone else before, let alone having shared a bed with another boy. But the killing school was no place for prudishness; who could possibly care about two boys holding hands when kids were killing each other?
They were both on their backs, staring straight at the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe or move from the sheer awkward nervousness of it all. Ishimaru was the first to break. He turned on his side to face Mondo, and commented that that evening had been the first time he’d seen Mondo with his hair down. He told Mondo that it looked nice; he should leave it like that more often. Oowada turned to face him in response. They searched for each other’s eyes in the near pitch black. Mondo had moved his face forward and pressed his forehead against Ishimaru’s, by some miracle meeting each other perfectly in the dark. They could both feel the other’s warm breath as if it were his own, intermingling in the small space between them. They talked in sacred whispers about what they wanted to do tomorrow. They both knew that tomorrow would be the same as any other day, and they were just making conversation to stay awake with each other a little longer, until they finally drifted off.
Ishimaru woke up first, of course. He discovered that their hands had found each other during the night, and their fingers were intertwined. He decided not to tell Mondo.
A couple of days later they kissed. They had been in the laundry room, and Ishimaru was sitting on top of a washing machine, legs swinging gently and laughing at something Mondo had said. Oowada had been slowly moving closer towards him, until he was standing just in front of the other. Taka had been saying something, but stopped when he felt the mood change. Something about Mondo’s eyes had changed from the man he first met. They were softer, and were looking at him full of something Ishimaru didn’t think he’d ever seen before, yet somehow recognised. He thought it was love. Mondo had moved his head imperceptibly closer to him, and Taka further closed the gap. Oowada caught on quickly, and their lips met. It was incredibly soft, and chaste. They parted momentarily, judging each other’s reaction. They smiled at each other.
They kissed more often. Whenever they were alone, hushed voices and low laughter, one kiss after the other, parting when they heard footsteps and trying to look innocent. The others had noticed by this point. Asahina winked whenever she saw them. Toko was disgusted. Mondo couldn’t care less what anyone else thought of them, because they were the only two people in the school who mattered.
One night, they lay next to each other as they had done for the past few days, since Mondo had privately decided he preferred being in Taka’s room to being in his own, and Taka had privately decided he preferred it this way too. Spontaneously, Kiyotaka had begun to cry. He couldn’t explain it exactly, but he knew he missed his family, the outside world. He was so grateful to have Mondo there with him, but he needed his family. His police officer father and loving mother who had only ever tried their best despite the hardships life had forced upon them. Mondo didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t good with touchy feely. Wasn’t good with crying. He too tried his best; wiped Ishimaru’s tears away and pulled him closer. Ishimaru clung to him, sobbing harder. The next morning, they continued as if nothing had happened.
But that was all in the past. All that they were focused on in this moment was each other, Mondo sitting on the armchair, Kiyotaka on top of him. All Ishimaru could feel was Mondo’s chest rising and falling under his head, his fingers trailing through his hair. Then he was cold.
Ishimaru woke up in his bed. He reached out for Mondo’s warmth lying next to him. Nothing. He was alone. He felt sick: drenched in cold sweat. He remembered. Mondo was dead. He had murdered Chihiro. He couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. He heard a knock at the door; it had to be Mondo, yes, he was the only one who would visit him in the middle of the night. He ran to the door, chest tight, needing to shake off the bad dream. There was nobody there. Ishimaru looked out from side to side, but saw nobody. He looked down. There was a tub of butter on the floor.