Uso dayo!

"Ouma-kun..."

Amami approached him suddenly as he was curled up on the couch with a book and a stuffed dog. There was an urgency in his voice, and concern in his expression. Kokichi blinked up at him in confusion. Was something the matter? He was just about to voice this question when Amami reached down without a word to tug down his loose checkered scarf.

The scarf that was supposed to be hiding the bandages that ran halfway up his neck.

"I thought I saw something poking out," Amami huffed, pulling away as Kokichi hastily yanked the fabric back up again. "What is that? When did you get hurt?"

"It's nothing, really." Kokichi fiddled with the hem of his scarf, worrying the already fraying edges. "It's old."

He hadn't been living here very long. Barely a week, and Kokichi had been so careful to not let Amami see him uncovered. Be it his scarf and hoodie, or his gakuran, or whatever, he made sure his arms, legs, and neck were properly hidden. He must have gotten careless, and the scarf had slouched just enough for him to catch a glimpse.

"Old?" Amami crossed his arms incredulously. "From what? Something old wouldn't need dressing that heavy, would it?"

The wound on the juncture between Kokichi's neck and his shoulder throbbed, as if to prove Amami's point.

The room was dark. It always was, save the light of the TV casting distorted shadows across the room. At least he'd had the decency to mute it this time. It was much easier for Kokichi to ignore that way.

Not that he'd ever admit that he was ignoring it. That would probably just upset him.

Kokichi couldn't deny the sick thrill he himself got when the knives came out. It wasn't exactly arousal, no. He couldn't quite place what it was. Some visceral feeling that tightened around his lungs and made him want to throw up, but somehow still managed to be satisfying in how real it was.

It wasn't as if he hadn't known going in what Saihara had wanted to try today. He said he wanted to hear Kokichi's noises, and that would be fine. He stretched out on the bed, all hooded gazes masking the twisting of disdain and dread in his gut in the face of the look of manic obsession that was mirrored back at him.

Kokichi had never felt anything so real in his life. He loved it. He hated it. He didn't really know what to feel about it.

He'd told Saihara that he wanted this, but truth be told he really wasn't sure if he did. He wanted to not want it. That was a big part of it. He didn't want it, but he did it anyway, and that was the price he paid.

The price to feel the whatever it was that made him fall apart into a mess of terrified tears and mangled cries as some creep had his way with him.

And then, when it was all over, Kokichi was still breathing, so that meant it was fine, right?

"We should have a doctor check it over if it still needs to be bandaged up like even now." Amami's words and the phone already in his hand snapped Kokichi back to the present like a rubber band.

"N-no! No doctors!" He sprung to his feet in a panic. The bandages pulled at the cuts and the bites, but Kokichi had gotten good at moving like the scabs weren't ripping open under the wrappings. Doctors meant explaining himself, meant calling his parents, meant this waking dream of living with beautiful Amami in his beautiful apartment coming to an end and finally facing the consequences for all of his actions. "See, I'm fine! Really. If you only just noticed, that means it must not be that bad, right?"

Amami didn't look convinced.

"If it really hurt that much," Kokichi insisted, "or was infected or anything like that, I would have said something, wouldn't I?"

"How do I know you would, Ouma-kun?" Amami pressed. "You've hid them from me for this long. Why didn't you tell me from the start?"

"I..." Kokichi fiddled with his scarf again, his gaze turning shamefully to the floor. He stooped down to pick up the stuffed dog from where it'd fallen on the floor, then looked back up at Amami with the most pitiful expression he could manage. "I just didn't want to worry you... I was... I was scared that you..."

His stomach twisted in knots. Scared that he what? Would find the scars shameful? Would find Kokichi shameful if he explained what had happened? What would Amami think if he knew?

He didn't want Amami not to love him anymore.

"Please, Ranr—" He averted his gaze. "Ran-chan..."

Amami blinked in surprise, and then his expression softened. He sighed, slipping his phone back in his pocket. "Will you at least let me see them? I can help you take care of them if nothing else."

"It's okay. I don't want to trouble you more than I already have."

Amami didn't seem entirely pleased with the answer, but let it be after that, excusing himself to go start making dinner for the two of them. Kokichi slumped back onto the couch with a relieved sigh, pulling his scarf more securely around his neck. It was sweet that Amami seemed to care so much, it really was.

But this was his mistake. He could handle it. He was handling it. It would be fine. Sure, the wounds didn't seem to want to stay closed, and Kokichi had read horror stories about human bites online, but he was keeping them clean.

His neck throbbed again.

Honest.