[GAME BREAKER]

hes so fucking pastel goth

just look up ayria for his music taste

super fem. like, even more so than my usual ouma

uses :3 so fucking much

has an aesthetic tumblr

works at claires but is trying to get his cosmetology license

     Kaito hated his job. Rolling his shoulders, he stares at the various jewelry strewn into the basket at his feet. Velvet chokers,tacky earrings in the makeshift shape of a gothic cross, hair bows complete with plastic pentagrams ( that would send any rigid mother into a satanic panic), all complete for sale. 

     “  Dammit.  ” He mumbles under his breath, mentally cursing out a group of teenagers as they gracelessly push past him in their righteous pursuit for debased knickknacks. Nothing screamed comedic gold quite like novelty nudey pens. 

     Pressed up against the jewelry rack, Kaito let’s out a growl, dusting his ‘Pierce The Veil’ shirt off in one gratuitous motion before re-adjusting his bright-violet, razor-cut, bangs, so that they sit neatly over his left eye. But only his left. He couldn’t have his vision entirely obscured _( _opting for sight out of at least one eye seemed practical)  despite the fatal aesthetic need for just the opposite.

     He bends over, roughly handling a pair of pentagram-clad bows, as he forces them onto an empty wall-hook. Momentarily, silence takes over. Kaito is lost in the soft lull of Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’, blasting kindly from the speakers above. God, Billy Joe Armstrong was just such a greasy-fucking hunk. Wait? Did he really just think that?

     But no peace is forever. He groans in response: hearing that grossly-nasally voice was enough to strike a bullet through his perfectly demure state-of-dreaming. “   Th’ fuck ya’ want, Ouma.  ” Kaito spits. He’s keeping his back towards the other. No way he’s gonna give this little bitch the time of day !

Ever trying to be as obnoxious as possible, he slid over a bit and grabbed one of the bows. “Wooow, you actually make money off this shit?” He laughed, even though they were the exact sort of thing he would steal buy.

“See this?? This is what actual quality looks like.” He adjusted the spiked floral headband he was wearing, fluffing his hair a bit to make sure it kept a good amount of volume.“Of course, I know straight guys like you just don’t know shit about fashion. Which is why I try sooo hard to help you!” 

Jumping down, he leaned on Momota, acting even more dramatic than usual. As he made his mini-monologue, he slipped the bows into his skirt pocket. He’d make sure to wear them the next day just to piss the other man off.

Really, Ouma didn’t know why he tried so hard to annoying him. It wasn’t like Momota had ever done anything to him. If anything, his dedication to seeming careless and numb made it easier for him to steal. The most he’d ever really done was probably call Ouma a fake goth because he wore obscene amounts of pastels, or use MySpace in the 2010s (which, frankly, Ouma did think should be illegal).

He quickly pulled back a bit, organizing his sweater and collar. The one downside of detached collars was that they were so easy to fuck up. Fixing the planchette pins as well, he looked over at Momota. Even if it wasn’t the reason he’d come over, why not just... ask?

He walked into the store, staring down at his phone. 30 minute break... and technically he was the store manager so like, who was gonna get him in trouble if he was late? Probably not his boring ass assistant manager who shook every time he spoke to her. 

Ever since he started working at Claire’s, he’d been _trying _not to steal from them as much. Emphasis on trying. His preferred method? Stealing from other stores in the mall! Being the bane of capitalists was his favorite hobby, after all.

Looking around, it was pretty much the usual disaster- frat boys being obnoxious over some tit themed gag, some overly confident girl buying a pile of sex toys, some people who had clearly been dragged along.

Unfortunately, at the moment the store was just too busy for him to easy shoplift. It was annoying, especially considering he was using time he could be smoking or throwing annoying fake religion pamphlets in the food court.

Instead, he made his way over to the one employee who’s name he’d actually bothered to learn, for the sole sake of annoying the shit out of him. Walking almost silently, he found him, of course, hiding in the back pretending to stock some shit.

He smirked, laying over his lap. Oh he knew he had Kaito following every word, watching his every moment, completely hooked.

That’s what love was, right? Getting exactly what you wanted? He really didn’t know. 

Sure, he may have had… feelings for Kaito but what was really the point of saying that? Of acknowledging this? On Kaito’s end, it was really just lust. Even if he stood by him for now, giving him everything the boy could ever want. Falling for every white lie and hooked on every order. That was just life for Kokichi Ouma- making others follow him and hiding any real feelings he had.

No matter what, he couldn’t waiver, he couldn’t have serious feelings. And if he did? He couldn’t show them. Was it a truth or a lie? That never mattered. Lies were just a distorted version of reality. In every one, some of the truth was held.

Even if he wanted to admit that no, it was the other way around. That he’d never felt like this before. That he wanted so much more… he couldn’t. All he could do to stay by Kaito’s side was to lie, and lie, and lie, and lie. That’s all he could ever do.