#linabigface

Shuichi stared out the train window blankly, a bouquet of flowers resting on his lap. Today was relatively cloudy, which seemed to fit the mood he was in: extremely gloomy.

Two years ago on this day, it had happened.

He swallowed as he heard a voice announce over the intercom that they will be stopping shortly at the next stop. He stood, grabbing for the railing to steady himself as the train slowed to a stop.

Clutching the bouquet tightly in his hand, he got off the train. He began to head to his destination as he thought back on the last conversation he had with Kokichi that night two years ago.

💜💜💜💜

Two weeks passed since Kokichi stopped coming to classes. Nobody had seen him or been able to get in touch with him.

And that terrified Shuichi.

He swallowed, gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly as he rode the bus to Kokichi’s apartment.

I hope he’s doing okay. He looked a little pale the last time I saw him, he thought to himself.

He lowered his gaze to the ground.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the number on his wrist, does it...?” he wondered out loud.

He immediately shook his head.

No, don’t think like that, he mentally scolded himself.

The bus came to a stop moments later. Shuichi got off the bus and he headed over to Kokichi’s apartment. Upon arriving at the apartment complex, he took the stairs up to the third floor.

Ouma-kun is just fine. Nothing is wrong with him, he chanted to himself as he approached Kokichi’s door.

“Um...Ouma-kun?” he called out.

There was no response. Shuichi pressed his lips into a thin line.

Did he step out, he asked himself.

“Ouma-kun?” he tried again.

Still no response. Shuichi sighed.

“Okay...I guess I’ll come back later.” he said as he turned to leave.

Before he could, he heard his phone ring. Confused, he pulled it out and saw that Kokichi was calling him.

“He’s calling me?” he wondered out loud as he answered it and brought it up to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered.

“Hi...sorry for not opening the door.” Shuichi’s eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t exactly have people over right now.”

“You can’t have anyone over?” he questioned as he turned back towards the door.

Just what is that supposed to mean, he asked himself.

“Yeah, I can’t...did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah...I was told to drop off some class materials for you. And also...”

“And also?”

“I guess you could say I was worried about you.”

There was a few moments of silence. Shuichi got ready to ask Kokichi if he was okay when he spoke.

“Okay. Well, you can just slip it through the mail slot.”

“Alright...” Shuichi trailed off.

He nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder as he dug through his messenger bag. Pulling the class materials for Kokichi out, he slid them through.

“Thanks. Oh, and to quell your worries a bit, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m doing fine.”

“You’re doing fine?” Shuichi parroted as he stared at the door.

He says that, but he won’t let me come in and he sounds a little weak. Not only that, he’s been looking quite pale, he thought to himself.

“Yes, I am fine. There is no need to worry. I’ll be better in no time.”

“Should I believe you?”

Silence answered him. Shuichi felt fear wash over him.

He’s lying, isn’t he, he thought to himself.

“Ouma-kun, tell me the truth. You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“I am fine, Saihara-chan.”

“If you really were fine, then I would be inside your apartment rather than outside your door and we wouldn’t be talking on the phone. Am I right?”

“Saihara-chan—“

“Don’t lie to me, don’t say you’re fine when you’re really not. I thought we were past the point of acting like strangers in front of each other.”

Another awkward silence fell over them. Shuichi bit his lip as he waited for Kokichi to answer. Then, he heard him release a sigh.

“I really am fine. I mean it.”

“Then...” Shuichi licked his lips. “Open the door so that I can see you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, okay? I can’t open the door for you.”

“Is it hard for you to do so?”

“Do I really need to explain it to you?”

“Yes, you are going to have to explain it to me because I sure as hell am not going to understand unless you give it to me straight!”

“I’m dying, Saihara-chan!”

Shuichi’s breath instantly hitched at Kokichi’s words. He could only stare at the door with wide eyes as the sound of the door unlocking reached his ears. The door then swung open, revealing a very sickly Kokichi. Tears pooled in his purple eyes as he choked out a sob.

“Can’t you see?! I’m dying, Saihara-chan, dying!” he screamed.

Shuichi’s eyes scanned over Kokichi’s pale skin, protruding cheekbones, wild bed hair, and the dark circles under his tear-filled eyes. He had grown so skinny that his clothes were practically falling off of him.

His eyes then traveled to his wrist, where the number twenty-one was tattooed onto it. His breath immediately caught in his throat.

He’s twenty-one right now...does that mean what I think it means, he asked himself.

A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he spoke, voice quiet.

“Ouma-kun...” Shuichi trailed off.

Kokichi choked out another sob, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Gosh, why are you so persistent?! Why do you always have to try and get the truth out of me?! Why do you even care?!” he shouted.

“I—“

The sobs stopped shortly after and before Shuichi knew it, Kokichi had collapsed right at his feet. His eyes widened in horror.

“Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun, wake up.” he said as he dropped down onto his knees.

“Wake up, wake up.” Fear coursed through his body as he shook Kokichi.

“Ouma-kun, wake up!”

💜💜💜💜

Before Shuichi knew it, he was standing in front of a grave at a cemetery.

Kokichi’s grave, to be specific.

Two days after that night, Kokichi passed away. The doctors said that it was due to an unknown disease, but Shuichi couldn’t find it in him to believe that was the case.

He searched and searched, but was unable to come up with something that made sense in the end.

He placed the bouquet down before the tombstone and ran his fingers along Kokichi’s name chiseled into the rock.

“Ouma-kun, why did you have to keep this to yourself? Why couldn’t you have said that you would leave soon?” he asked in a soft whisper.

Tears began to burn at the corners of his eyes as he rolled the sleeve of his coat up to reveal the number eighty-seven tattooed on his wrist. He choked out a sob as he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the tombstone.