[A/N] MAJOR, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR LDOD UP TO CHAPTER 4 DEADLY LIFE. DO NOT READ UNTIL YOU'VE GOTTEN THERE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

"Have you been eating enough?"

Chimon Ueda was perplexed by the question. Not why it was posited to him-- finding that an acquaintance had been murdered and then having to witness her murderer's gruesome execution would surely make a normal person's appetite all but non-existent-- but why it was asked specifically to him by specifically this one guy.

"I-I've been trying my best," he responded, trying to summon forth all of the pitiable childlike sadness he could muster into his tone. In actuality, he'd been eating just as much as usual. But he'd been mainly snacking in private, cutting down on meal sizes to blend in with the deeply traumatized teenagers surrounding him.

The older guy, the one who dwarfed Chimon-- though that wasn't hard-- gave him a little squish of the shoulder, a sign of affection or support. For reasons incomprehensible to Chimon, Monterio Mukai had developed some sort of fondness for him. Or at the very least, was doing a damn good job of pretending. He wasn't exactly sure what Monterio wanted from him. Money didn't matter here, and Chimon wouldn't be the best to ally with if the goal was protection. Chimon liked believing that he had a decent grasp on the motivations of people. He had to, for his job. But in light of such utter confusion and chaos and life-threatening everything, he could only hypothesize that Monterio's feelings toward him were like a man finding a baby left at his doorstep. It's too cute and helpless to leave alone. I'll take care of it.

That had been his goal, his reason for acting so defenseless and emotional, but it turns out, he hadn't been entirely prepared for such a positive result; one of the physically strongest people in the building was, if only shallowly, on his side. And that came with having to sort out all kinds of social niceties and whatnot, which was, admittedly, a smidge scary.

Ultimately, Chimon was incredibly scared. And from this fear came a want: I want him to like me. I don't want him to leave me. 'Why?' asked his brain, the energetic fellow who would never let him be without answers. Because keeping him close is my best shot of making it out of here alive.

So he settled into the touch of the gentle giant.

...

The swimming was an interesting time. Chimon liked the pool, despite the fact that his height often meant he couldn't get very far without having to put effort into it. Monterio, on the other hand, was tall enough to go wherever he wanted without trouble. And this led to an amusing possibility, one that Chimon was all too willing to try out.

"You know that thing that parents do, where they put their kid on their shoulders in the pool and then launch them? Or, like, maybe if the kid is younger or more afraid, they instead run around with the kid still on their back?" Monterio gave a warm, somewhat distant-looking smile in response. It got Chimon wondering if maybe he'd done so with Minato, before the two of them had met. Before they got ensnared in a game that had claimed the lives of four people and counting. Chimon dismissed the ever-present (but at least quiet) fear of mortality and continued. "Could you maybe do that for me?"

A slight huff of laughter, and then a nod as Monterio got into the pool and hoisted Chimon onto his shoulders. Chimon felt a brief spurt of thrill, still somewhat stunned at the ease of which Monterio accepted his asinine request. He felt Monterio start to crouch, and he prepared himself to kick off.

Within moments, he was soaring. It was the sort of weightless feeling of going a little too high on the swings and bouncing just a bit, except it didn't feel nearly as death-defying. Which was probably a good thing-- every minute the two of them spent there, they were technically defying death. He landed with a slightly rough splash. Water cascaded around him as his hair floated in waves, and as he rose to the surface for air, he laughed. "Let's go again!" he urged. For the briefest instant, it reminded him of when he used to get lifted and tossed into the air by his mother. He would ask to do it over and over and over. Hmm... this was enjoyable in a different way, he supposed.

The two played in the pool together for a substantial amount of time, and, in that time, the want reestablished itself. I want him to like me. I don't want him to leave me. 'Why?' asked his brain. Because I have fun when I'm around him.

...

He mindlessly twisted the yarn intricately through his fingers, shifting it into shapes that he'd long since memorized. Ayatori was something easy and cheap to do to keep himself entertained throughout the day, and it was a nice thing to do when idly chatting, as well.

Monterio was also using his primary method of "easy and cheap entertainment": his hackey sack. He had tried desperately to succeed in ayatori, but, though he was very coordinated in every other part of his body, he was not good with his fingers. Chimon found this very entertaining.

"But yeah, so he started going out with her, and since then, I've seen her around a lot more often. She's kind of goofy, in a fun way. The type of person to blow bubbles in her drinks, but like, only once in a blue moon so it comes off as more funny than annoying. I've seen her do it twice."

Monterio nodded in understanding. He was a man of few words, unless those words were requested, but Chimon was alright with that. Monterio could be a good sounding board.

"Honestly, I kind of don't really get romance. Friendships are fine to me. I don't know how going on a date could be any more enriching than, like, bumming around with you. People are always saying this stuff makes more sense when you get older, but, like, I'm fifteen now. If I'm gonna understand it, then when?" he rambled. He found that, while he was still overly cautious around protecting his image, his tongue was getting a bit looser. It was perhaps a result of being in the same place with the same people for so long. Though he had lied often to keep himself safe, he found that the group generally didn't mean any harm, so long as no motive was going.

"How do you feel about PDA and stuff like that?" Monterio asked, still adjusting to officially dating a girl he'd long since wanted to spend his whole life with.

"I don't find it gross or anything. Honestly, research suggests that most people would be way better off if we did it more, even platonically. So, I don't mind, but it shouldn't be exclusive to couples," he answered truthfully.

Hearing this, Monterio wrapped him into a bear hug. This, too, was becoming far more commonplace, and it had gone from being surprising to completely natural. It was just a thing that Monterio did to show affection. Chimon wished he could feel the same sentiments-- it felt awfully unfair for someone to care so much about someone who couldn't reciprocate-- but he was nonetheless glad for the companionship. He didn't often express his real views on romance, or on anyone in his life, really. Nor did he often express his wants.

I want him to like me. I don't want him to leave me. "Why?" asked his brain, which was becoming less and less convinced with each new answer. Because... I can talk about things that I don't normally talk about with him, he tried next. Finding the next reason was like trying on a pair of shoes and walking in them until they felt improper.

...

The boy couldn't properly contain his trembling. He was used to purposefully making himself quiver, to look more scared or sad or lonely. But the opposite problem, stopping once his body had acted of its own accord, was a recent development, and one he wasn't entirely sure he liked.

He found that his fear was becoming similar to a U-curve. At the beginning, when he first learned the purpose for which he was ensnared, the death game, his fear was overwhelming. He sought out hiding places in the event that anyone wanted to kill him, he would grant favors with the hope that people would owe him, he completely falsified his personality. As he became accustomed to the bitter pill in front of him that people had died and would likely continue to do so, he let the slack loose ever so slightly. He got mouthier around certain people, shared more about his personal life... and experienced feelings he'd long since been missing, even if they were in trace amounts.

That transparency was now reaching the point where it caused his anxiety to begin utterly skyrocketing. He had made a choice recently. He had begun to yearn for honesty. He wanted to stop lying to the people he pretended he could care about for their sake. It was immoral to deceive them so much, and he'd known it since the start. And, perhaps, his motives were somewhat selfish. He was scared of what would happen if they found out any other way, and he was also slightly curious to see how they would start treating him.

So, he'd admitted his brokenness to one Fujiko Teruya. She was a kind, soft-hearted individual, and he knew more about her than he'd initially expected to. So when she caught him pondering to himself about whether to risk his position of social standing-- whether to risk his friendships-- for the sake of truth, he bit the bullet. She seemed like his safest bet.

That was a mistake.

Not because Fujiko told anyone or acted any differently. She'd sworn not to, and kept to it.

No. Because the new motive meant that people could hear conversations that others had about them. And, at the very tail end, they'd mentioned Monterio.

What would it be like if Monterio knew? That want was ringing so, so loudly now.

I WANT HIM TO LIKE ME. I DON'T WANT HIM TO LEAVE ME. What'll happen if he finds out?! Will he feel betrayed, and hurt? Will he want to leave me? He'd have every right to.

"Why are you so distressed?" asked his brain. "What are you doing this for? Why do you want these things?"

Because... he makes the emptiness in my chest feel smaller. He fills it with something.

And so, the words slipped through his tongue. "I-I need to tell you something now, before you find out any other way."

...

The sight of his best friend on the floor, bloodied, smashed his heart open like a geode, revealing the crystalline center, and now he was drowning in the raw, abrasive, discordant love and grief that resonated all throughout himself as he screamed.

He's gone. He left me.

I didn't want him to leave me. Because I cared about him. Someone stole him from me.

The boy, flooded with paradox, descended the stairs. With eyes much clearer than they'd ever been, yet clouded with tears. With a body that was more tense with passion than ever, but one that was so close to giving up and crumpling. With a heart so wracked with guilt and loss, yet freed of its constraints.

He vowed to find justice, and to rewrite what the world meant to him, as he crawled toward something indescribable.