The Izuru Kamukura Ward

Tying Loose Ends

Living in a place like "Hope's Peak", even if it is temporary, gets you used to crazy shit. It gets you used to crazy, disillusioned, insane... sometimes violent people. So, just like the ones on the outside, but actually slapped with a diagnosis – a label – stating it as fact.

Take Gundam, for instance. There's no denying that he's got issues, but his hysterical mother probably made it worse. Not that he's perfect, or would know what to do himself. Still, there had to be a better way than confining him like that, sobbing and guilting him when she knew he worshiped the ground she walked on.

Or maybe Souda's biased against mums as a general rule. After all, it's not like his own gave a shit; if she had, he wouldn't have let his dad beat the crap out of him.

No one gives a fuck, not really. If they did, he wouldn't be here. He would've been helped before he was convinced the only way to stop the scars, bruises and pain was to swallow all those painkillers. To die. He liked living, but... couldn't deal with anything.

It hurt like hell, too.

If it wasn't for Gundam, he didn't want to think of what might've happened; he wouldn't be in a nice facility, that's for sure. It was pure luck, definitely. When he was laying there, numb yet dreading going home, in that hospital bed, Gundam happened to be there too.

He was there due to blood loss, and to get stitches in his arm. It was a hell of a shock; talking to that shy, sweet boy one day, and the "Dark Lord" the next. But still... they bonded, and he was offered the chance of a life time.

He was just tying up loose ends now, stabilising and preparing to go back to society, living with his sister while he found a job. The fun one too, which was awesome.

"Souda... Will you still visit me?" Gundam asks, everything about him screaming vulnerability, wrapped in a blanket and Souda's hand stilling over his stomach, many layers preventing any skin-on-skin contact. Somehow, the question feels like liquid nitrogen in his chest; so cold, it burns.

"Yeah... 'course..." He answers, his hesitation probably not all that convincing, "You know I love you... That doesn't stop when I leave, when you leave... We're fighters, and I'm here for you no matter what."

Gundam's silent for a while, so he breaks it once again. That's what Souda can do; hold him through nausea, cramps, urges to stick his fingers down his throat. Break those awkward silences that fucked up brain chemistry and insecurities forces between them. It's the least he can do.

"I love you," He repeats, more firmly than before, pressing kisses to the thin sheets separating him from Gundam's porcelain flesh, "I won't leave you, okay? You're stuck with me."

A small, whispered thank you, and dry lips are pressed to his and he thanks whatever Gods Gundam does or doesn't believe in for his obvious "good day"; despite Ishimaru's return.

That worries him, if he's honest. Ishimaru has never been the best patient, and he's scared of what that might mean for Gundam; they are best friends, after all. Gundam's finally getting better – really better – and he doesn't want anything to jeopardise that. Ishimaru cares, he won't deny that, but... the way in which he does... Well, both Komaeda and Togami can attest to that. Everyone knows he's a dark person now, but some are just in wilful denial; Naegi, not that he can help it, and Mondo. Mondo doesn't have an "excuse", as such, other than being completely love sick.

Well, he can hardly judge.

"I know," Gundam sighs, because he does, "I just worry. It's different out there."

"'I guess," He agrees, because it is, and he knows that, "But it won't change me."