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[Fic] Munchausen's Proxy
Friday, 4 April 2025 17:43Everything was hot and cold at the same time. The room was dark, but somehow it still managed to spin and Kokichi groaned and tossed in bed. His stomach twisted and his pajamas were sticky, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Tears streaked flushed, feverish cheeks as he turned again, desperate to find a comfortable position. His wrist itched, but he couldn't scratch it. He got in trouble the last time he tried.
The door clicked open, letting in a stream of light from the hall.
"Kokichi?" came the soft, shy voice. Kokichi immediately stilled as his heart stuttered in his chest.
It was Nee-nee.
She wheeled a small cart into the room, clicking on a soft lamp on the nightstand to illuminate the room. Kokichi whined pathetically as she peered down at him with an unknowable something in her eyes. He wasn't sure why, but something was different about his Nee-nee whenever Kokichi was sick. Or rather, whenever she was taking care of him.
Something like a cat peering down at a helpless mouse.
She smiled sweetly, brushing Kokichi's damp bangs from his face. "Oh me, oh my, has that pesky fever still not broken?"
"It's sticky, Nee-nee," he croaked, tears pricking his eyes. "Make it stop..."
He couldn't tell if her smile changed or if it was the fever playing tricks on him.
"Don't worry, dearest," she tutted, turning to fiddle with whatever was on her little cart. "I'm sure some fluids will help."
Kokichi's stomach rolled at the sight of the IV bag. No, no, he didn't like the fluids! Anything but that, he'd even take Teru-nii's soup at this point. He didn't like how the cloudy contents of that bag made him feel.
She seemed unfazed however, hanging the bag up on the stand affixed to her baby brother's bed as he cowered under the covers.
"Kokichi, I need to attach—" She tried to peek under the blankets to get to the IV port taped to Kokichi's wrist, but he snatched it away, hugging it to his chest.
"Don' wanna, Nee-nee! Feels icky!"
Her momentarily surprised expression melded into another smile. A different one. Kokichi shivered.
That was the bad smile.
"Silly boy," she cooed with a saccharine sigh. "The fluids are what will help you not feel icky anymore!"
For the first time in his life, Kokichi doubted his Nee-nee.
She must have known, because her smile finally fell, leaving an eerily blank stare in its wake.
"Kokichi, you know that you're sick, right?"
Kokichi whimpered.
"You need someone to take care of you. To tend to your fever."
Her tone was so distant. Was she talking to him, or at him?
"You can't do anything like this. You're so small, so ill, completely helpless..."
She took a shuddering, breathy sigh.
"Who better than the Ultimate Nurse to care for you? " she drawled, her gaze sliding off to the side in a daze. "Your Nee-nee, right? Do you not trust me, Kokichi?"
Kokichi's chest tightened. His head hurt. He was dizzy. He wanted it to stop.
Nee-nee knew best, right?
"I-I trust you, Nee-nee," Kokichi stammered. "I just...!"
He eyed the bag warily.
"I'm scared..."
Her smile returned, and she held out her hand for his. "I know, Koko. Let Nee-nee make the scary sickies go away..."
Kokichi stared at her hand, then looked up at her again. A sweet, reassuring smile graced her features, but that... thing in her eyes remained. Kokichi didn't know what it was. It made his skin crawl, but...
Nee-nee knew best.
He gingerly turned over his arm, and she deftly took it in her chilly hands, turning it over to attach the IV to the port. Kokichi buried his face in his pillow, preparing for the burning sensation that would inevitably creep up his arm and through the rest of his body as the fluids entered his veins.
[Fic] Comfort in Capgras
Saturday, 22 March 2025 12:01The second time, too, and maybe the third and fourth and fifth and sixth… Kokichi had honestly lost count. He hadn’t known any better. He was so little the first few times, and didn’t understand at all.
“Kokichi?”
Ignorant to the impermanence.
“C’mon, Koko, where’d you go?”
But Kokichi was four and a half now.
“Stop hiding from Papa.”
His Papa was gone, and this was an imposter.
Even now, it startled him every time. He would round a corner in the hall, and there he would be with open arms, and Kokichi would forget for half a second that Papa was never coming back. Everything about them was eerily similar. The eyes, the voice, the warmth. Or maybe it was just that the memories had faded as he’d grown.
You don’t remember much of anything when you’re just a baby, do you?
Kokichi covered his mouth to muffle his breathing as the heavy thunk of footsteps trailed by the cupboard. He’d gotten real good at hide and seek, squeezing himself between towering cans of hoarded food. One had a picture of sliced beef on the side, and the idea of dinnertime made him gag.
That’s when they’d shown up. He was hiding from dinner again.
“Don’t you miss me?”
Kokichi’s chest tightened.
He missed Papa. Of course he missed Papa! Papa and Mama both. He wanted them back more than anything in the world.
Maybe if they were here, Nee-nee would cry less. They were grownups! They could protect her better than he could, from her mean friends who pushed her around so much. Why did they do that? Kokichi still didn’t understand. Maybe they needed a grownup to tell them that it was wrong to be mean to your friends.
Maybe then they would be mean to him less, too.
“I miss you, Koko,” Papa—the not-Papa—said somberly. “Don’t you want a hug from your Papa?”
He wanted his Papa, he wanted his Papa so badly. Carefully, Kokichi pushed the cupboard door open just a crack to peek outside. There he was, bigger and rounder than Kokichi remembered, but still so undeniably Papa despite everything Kokichi knew telling him that it was not Papa. He gazed about the room, looking under tables and behind boxes as if they were only playing a game together. It was just a game to him.
Did that make it less scary?
“If you come out, Papa will give you a big hug and make it all better, alright? Then you and me and your Nee-nee can all have dinner together as a family. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
That would be nice. It would be so, so nice. Kokichi sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. It wasn’t Papa, though. It wasn’t real. It was a lie. It wasn’t Papa. Papa was gone and he was never coming back. Kokichi knew this. It was a lie and he would wake up tomorrow and Papa would be gone again without a trace because it never was Papa. Not this time, not any time Papa had come since Nee-nee brought Kokichi here.
“And then you can have your bath and Papa can help you get ready for bed. I’ll tell you a bedtime story, any story you’d like, and I’ll be right there until you fall asleep. How does that sound, Kokichi?”
He would be alone again and he would cry and Nee-nee would pet his hair so gently all while cruelly tell him not to be so silly to think Papa was coming back, just to see him cry more. It was a lie. A lie! And yet…
The cupboard door banged open as Kokichi clamored out, clumsily knocking cans over to spill and roll across the floor as he ran with teary eyes to bawl into his Papa’s arms.
"Papaaaaaaaaa...!"
Maybe Kokichi needed a kind lie right now.
[Fic] There was… somebody here.
Tuesday, 25 February 2025 15:08He didn't know when she came in, or how, or why. She just suddenly was, and she was talking to him. She had a soft voice. He didn't recognize it.
Maybe he was finally going insane.
Maybe he already had a long time ago.
“What're you doing?”
What did it look like he was doing? He was staring at the ceiling, like he always did.
He wondered what she looked like, but turning his head felt too exhausting.
“What's your name?”
Did it matter anymore? Did any of her questions matter? What was she playing at here? What was she doing? Couldn't she tell he wanted to be left alone?
He heard a faint rustle from where she was. Had she sat down? Why?
What was he worth to her?
His soul ached and his lungs burned.
“It must be lonely laying there all by yourself… I think.”
The inside of his nose burned. His breathing didn't change, but he felt the stream of dampness down the sides of his face. Did she see it, too? He didn't want anyone to see him anymore. There was no body here. That was the whole point! He was supposed to want to be alone, but…
“So you can hear me after all.”
There was somebody here.
He nodded. Once. Twice. Barely.
“How do you feel, then, about all of this?”
He was quiet for a long time. No one's ever asked him that before. It wasn't even that he didn't have an answer, necessarily. More like his throat wouldn't cooperate, sealed shut after so long.
She waited for him.
No one's ever done that, either.
“It… hurts.”
He could have lied. Made it easier, turned her away, but he was tired. So, so tired. His voice felt like sandpaper, and there was a lump in his throat he had to muscle past.
“Well, yeah. That much is obvious… I think,” she chided. “Why does it hurt, though? What do you feel about it?”
What does he feel? He's ignored it for so long, he started to feel empty. Hollow, but still laden down with… something.
“I feel…”
Everything.
“... upset.”
It wasn't any more descriptive than his last answer, but it was hard to think. There was a static in his brain that made it its job to push out everything and feel nothing. Make it hurt less to do what had to be done.
She hummed.
“That's a start, I think,” she praised. What was she praising him for? When was the last time he had been praised? “Being upset isn't fun. Why are you upset?”
Why?
There wasn't really any particular reason, was there? There couldn't be. It was all understandable. A grave he'd dug himself. He had no right to be upset.
His nose burned again.
“I wanted to help… but no one ever listened to me.”
It made sense that they wouldn't, even from the start. He shouldn't have been surprised. He wasn't surprised. He fully understood their situation and why they did what they did. They weren't to blame for anything.
He stared at the ceiling.
This was the inevitable outcome for him.
“It's hard not being listened to, even if it makes sense… I think.”
His throat clenched, and he swallowed. All he could do was nod.
“It's kind of like…” She trailed off. “... When a player misses the foreshadowing in a game because they're distracted by the action, and then they fail the final puzzle. You know they could have figured it out all along if they'd been paying more attention, but it makes sense why they didn't notice. It's disappointing, but not in an ‘I told you so’ way.”
That was a weird way to describe it, but… He wasn't used to actually being understood. It felt nice. His lungs burned less. He thought about getting up, looking at her.
Was it always this easy?
His chest tightened, poison in his veins. If it was this easy, then what had he been doing this whole time? What was he doing now? He did this to himself. How could he have any right to mope?
He stared at the ceiling.
If things could be fixed that easily, then what was the point? Clearly it wasn't that big of a deal if something as small as this made him feel so much better. Clearly he wasn't really suffering, if that was all it took. It was a lie. He was being dramatic. He deserved nobody's pity. He got what he deserved. He should be left here to rot. He was alone, and he always would be.
If he got up now, he'd be admitting that, wouldn't he?
“Hey, hey.”
There was somebody here.
“Isn't it cold laying there without a shirt or jacket like that?”
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what she wanted from him. He didn't know what he wanted from himself.
“What do you want?”
She was quiet for a long time.
“I saw you all alone here, and I wanted to get to know you,” she said. “Being left alone like this… it's no fun, I think.”
He didn't know how to respond to that. He wondered why she felt so strongly about it that she felt compelled to talk to some stranger she didn't even know. Did she know how it felt to be alone, too? He hadn't talked to anyone in so long, let alone someone willing to actually listen.
Should he lie? What if he wasn't ready to feel better yet? It was all moving so fast. He hadn't made peace with it. How do you make peace with feelings you don't even think are justified? How do you feel better at a pace that doesn't feel dismissive?
He wants to hold onto this painful feeling so it feels real. If it goes away, then was he ever really upset? If it's so easy, did those feelings ever matter in the first place?
Feeling better is scary. It's terrifying.
But…
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I'm cold.”
“You should bundle up in something warmer, then.”
“Can you help me sit up and… maybe get me a blanket?”
He could hear her smile.
“Okay!”
