Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shuichi rinses the dishes he's been cleaning and puts them aside to grab the mugs from breakfast instead. Rantaro has been busy trying to install the new shelf on the wall, and when Shuichi asked him if he should help, he assured he can do it alone.

It's heavy dark wood, and Rantaro has been fumbling around with the drill for the past couple minutes, fixing the upper part of the shelf to the wall. Shuichi catches himself staring and shakes his head with a huff, grabbing his mug used for his every morning coffee, starting to clean it out.

Rantaro is gauging if the shelf is aligned correctly, his head pressed to the wall under it and his hand pressing against the underside, when one of the screws seemingly comes loose and one half of the shelf drops down on him, hitting his head with a dull thud.

"Ow..." Rantaro takes a step back, frowning and rubbing his head. Shuichi doesn't register the noise of something shattering on the tiles at first. It rings in his ears, and Rantaro's head snaps up in alert. "Saihara?"

Shuichi flexes his fingers, realizing he's not holding the mug anymore. Instead, it's on the ground, shattered into tiny pieces.

"Y-you-" Shuichi starts feeling nauseous and sways. Rantaro's eyes widen and he puts his utensils down, quickly hurrying over to him.

"Hey, Saihara, what's wrong?"

Shuichi feels his lungs tie up and compress, his throat denying him the air to breathe. "Blood", he coughs, "Your head..."

"Huh?" Rantaro reaches up his hand and tests the spot the shelf hit him, before showing Shuichi his open hand. "There's no blood. I'm okay, really, it doesn't even hurt-"

And Shuichi can't hold back tears, dragging in a ragged sob, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

"Sai-... Shuichi, hey."

Rantaro drops his hand, instead he grabs Shuichi's shoulders and pulls him into his arms. It only makes Shuichi cry harder, his body trembling under the sudden outburst.

"When... When you, I... -" He whines, burying his face in Rantaro's sweater. "I... There was so much blood. And I pressed my fingers against your throat and there was no pulse anymore... And I--I stood next to you, and you weren't alive and I-"

The words spill out of his lips without any chance to sort them, tossed around between breathless sobs and gasps for air. Rantaro hums, gently running his hand over Shuichi's back, holding him closer.

"I'm sorry you had to see that", he whispers against Shuichi's ear. He smells like spring and flowers and faintly like vanilla, and Shuichi thinks his heart might stop inside his chest.

"You know how clumsy I am. You don't have to be so scared, yeah? I got a pretty thick skull. It's not getting bashed in again."

Again. Shuichi digs his fingers deeper into Rantaro's sweater, screwing his eyes shut and hopes his knees don't give in.

"Shhh. It's alright. I'm sorry. Do you want to help?"

"Yeah..." Shuichi sniffles. "Please."

"Okay. Okay, we'll do it together."

"I ruined the mug." Shuichi glances to the floor. That was the one Rantaro gifted him when they moved here. He destroyed it. Just like that.

"I'll get you a new one", Rantaro promises without missing a beat, "Now look at me."

Shuichi takes a deep, shaky breath and reluctantly lets go, leaning back to look up at him. And Rantaro gifts him that beautiful sunshine smile that makes his heart stutter inside his chest, before he leans in and gently kisses Shuichi's lips.

"There you are. Always so worried. What would I do without you?" He kisses him again, more chastely this time, just the hint of skin touching skin, warm breath parting over the spot between Shuichi's nose and mouth. "You okay, blueberry?"

"Blue-" Shuichi's face heats up and his eyes widen, and it doesn't help that Rantaro starts laughing quietly, his face tinting with a blush. "You like it?"

"Wh-why you--!" He closes his eyes and shakes his head, sorting himself again. "I'm sorry. I know this is ridiculous..."

"It's not. If anything, it just shows me how much you love me. You worry a lot more about my head than I do myself, haha. I'll be more careful, okay?"

Rantaro brushes his fingers over the small hairs on the back of Shuichi's neck, goosebumps erupting all over his skin. They aren't trapped inside the dome anymore and there's nobody here to take Rantaro away from him again. It's a thought that usually helps grounding himself, but Shuichi can still feel his heart hammer. 

"I don't feel real, sometimes", Rantaro says suddenly and Shuichi looks back up at him. His eyes are a little distant and his face fights a frown. "Sometimes I expect this all to be a joke and I'll wake up inside some tub again and you won't remember us living together."

"Amami-kun..."

"See, it's ridiculous. But are you laughing? You understand why, don't you?"

Shuichi feels his eyes starting to water again, blinking away salty tears. Rantaro always acts so calm, but Shuichi knows he's far from it. Shuichi never pushes him to open up, and just like right now, he will talk about it when he feels ready for it.

"I love you", Rantaro says softly and presses another kiss against the crown of Shuichi's head, "I have from the moment I met you. And no matter how many times they erase my memory, that won't ever change. Because you'll always be you, and I will always know you're the only one."

The thought everything could be a simulation yet again scares Shuichi, even though he knows it's unlikely. Once reality has shifted, he can never truly trust in what he sees.

But he knows Rantaro is real, he's the same like back then and he'll always be the same no matter what. Even if Shuichi's brain resets, he'd find him again and again and again until he finds a reality where they can be together.

"Hey. Don't cry." Rantaro places his thumb against Shuichi's chin and softly tilts his head up, kissing him again. Shuichi exhales deeply and leans heavy into the kiss. He hasn't even realized he had started to cry again.

"It's okay. Come on. Let's do this together and we'll go to that new bookstore after. You wanted to go, right? Maybe they have that new detective trilogy you've been looking for."

Rantaro knows him so well. Suddenly, everything is half as bad anymore, and he's already laughing again when they install the shelf and Rantaro cleans off the remnants of the shattered mug, promising Shuichi to get a new one while they are out in the city.

Shuichi hopes that the veil of the killing game lets go of his heart one day, and those flashing images of Rantaro covered in blood fade. Instead, he'd like to fill that spot with happy memories. Rantaro's beautiful smile and the sound of his laugh and the way his cheeks redden when he's happy. The scent of eucalyptus shampoo and how his clothes are always two sizes too big and the way Shuichi's head perfectly fits in the crook of his shoulder.

He knows where he wants to spend his life. Right there, like he was made to fit exactly next to him.