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Kokichi could only be loved by monsters.
That, he knew well; because only monsters could love one of their own.
He supposed that must be why Mikan hated him.
No one was looking at Kokichi, unless it was to hurt him. That was the sad truth.
"Kokichi," his parents would hold his face when he was young, wiping his tears with fond exasperation. "You're already so big, and yet you're crying?"
But he couldn't help it. How could he? The bruises hurt, and Kokichi wished for nothing more than how Mikan would fuss over him, after the fact: her soothing his wounds was good enough for him, back then, the innocent way her eyes would wobble.
"You shouldn't cry, unless it's on purpose, you know," father pet his hair gently, before his hand went to cup his cheek—thumb digging into the bruise left there. "Weaponize your emotions. Only cry when it suits you."
"Wouldn't that be lying?" Kokichi warbled, and the thumb pressed harder, deeper.
"Bad boy," Father scolded, "Acting like you're not a liar already. Did you not lie to us, just now, about who broke the vase?"
Kokichi is silent. The thumb recedes, and with it, fathers hand falls from his face—there's no more affection, and Kokichi finds he misses it.
"We love you, Kokichi," Mother speaks up. "That's why we have to do this. It breaks our hearts, but… It's what has to be done. Liars are such dirty people, you know? And yet you lie to us. Everyday, you lie more and more. Even though we love you… Why must you provoke us?"
But what's wrong with his lies? Those lies were love. Those lies were to protect someone, so how could they be dirty?
This is perhaps the only way Kokichi knows how to love: to lie with every breath, to provoke, to agitate, to hurt.
To be hurt.
Only monsters could love a monster, and Kokichi and his parents were surely that.
But Kokichi's sister was different. She wasn't a monster; she didn't deserve to be hurt. How could she be a monster, when she bandaged his wounds so tenderly, when the first time he lied she cried and begged him not to? She was his sister; it was his job to protect her.
He truly meant that, he thought. It wasn't like he resented her. The kindness she showed must surely be love. Right?
(But maybe Kokichi was even lying to himself, and that's why things ended up so wrong.)
And then Mikan blames him. Blames him for something she did, and Kokichi feels lost at sea. He was going to lie, anyways. He was going to say it was him, so why did she feel the need to throw him under the bus? Did she not trust him? Did she not love him?
"This is what love is," his parents tell him, as they press cigarette buds to his back, and that's when he realizes it:
Mikan Tsumiki never loved him in the first place.
Only his parents ever had.
Perhaps he thought something, subconsciously, without even realizing. Perhaps he thought, if only monsters can love me…
Then Mikan just needs to become a monster.
But maybe he didn't even realize he thought like that, until too late.
He hated school.
He hated school, so very much.
Kokichi was always seen as odd, he supposed. He was always seen as something to avoid, not someone to talk to. Kokichi hated it; being ignored.
When someone ignores you, it's worse than if they hurt you. Because if they hurt you, they still feel something for you. When they ignore you, that means they're completely indifferent to your existence. And that is so much worse.
Look at me! He wanted to scream. I'm here, I exist, love me, hate me, hurt me—just do something!
"Why do you provoke us into doing this to you, Kokichi?" He remembers his parents asking, all sad eyes and worn love. "Why do you provoke us?"
Why did he? Why did he provoke them, and why did he provoke his classmates? Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? It was just common sense. If people ignored him when he wasn't making trouble, then why shouldn't he make trouble? Why shouldn't he make them look at him? Why shouldn't he provoke them?
The fist fights, as Mikan calls them, are exhilarating. So what if his classmates now hate him? No matter what he did, they would never love him—only monsters could love him—so wasn't being hated better?
Didn't he deserve to bleed? To be hated? A dirty, filthy liar; a monster; a ghost. But wasn't that fine? Wasn't it fine to be the villain, as long as everyone's eyes are on you?
So what if his pranks were annoying to others? So what if his jabs hurt? So what if he insulted them, scorned them, provoked them?
No one ever protected him. No one ever coddled him. If they can't take some petty words, that was their problem, wasn't it? No one would actually shelter them from such things in the real world. And if Kokichi was a monster, wasn't this fine too? Wasn't this what was expected of him? Wasn't this love ?
No one ever protected him. No one ever loved him without blood.
Why couldn't he split their lips the same?
The matter of Mikan, though, is a matter he finds himself split on.
Somewhere along the way, sweet love became toxic. The desire to protect became the bitterness of never being protected. The want for her eyes on him corrupting into something less wholesome, less innocent.
Mikan hated looking at Kokichi. Hated looking at his bruises, the stark reminder that she is not as pure as she thinks. But Kokichi wanted her to look; he didn't care if it was in scorn, in guilt, in hatred. He just wanted her to look, no matter what.
Mikan had earned his devotion; his love; and, indeed, his hate, too. The emotions were so tangled up together, it was hard to tell them apart. And perhaps, that was the problem, more than his bitterness, his ire: the fact that he loved her.
It wasn't right, how he felt it. It was a vicious emotion, not soft or sweet. It burned. He would take anything; sharp words or pitiful glances or tears or, yes, her hands around his throat—anything that meant she wasn't indifferent to him. The more he got under her skin, the more he wanted, and the more the ante increased.
He wanted her teary eyes and guilt; her anger and her hatred; her heartbroken look each time he reminded her that she was just as broken as him; he wanted a monster, because only monsters could love him.
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
Her tears and pitiful glances and the way she just cries instead of doing anything, the way she blames it all on me, the way she trembles when our parents look her way, she just wants to be pitied, doesn't she? She's so pathetic, she's such a coward, she's so desperate to be loved but who could love her when all she does is fucking cry? I used to cry, I used to cry, didn't I, but all that got was a hand pressing into my bruises so why does she get to cry? It's not going to change anything, help anything, do anything, doesn't she know that? It just makes her all the more pitiful.
I love her. I love her. I love her.
Why does no one ever protect me?
When she chokes him, for one bright, incandescent moment, he feels victorious. Finally. Finally, she sees him, pays attention to him, hurts him. After years of provocation, she finally acts . She finally does more than just sits there and whimper.
And then he sees the tears, and his whole reality shatters.
…crying? Why is she crying?
For a moment, he cannot comprehend it. Who would cry for him? He's a monster in human skin. He hurts people, and he likes it. He hurt her and he liked it. He's a liar; he is so easy to hurt. He makes himself so easy to hurt. Doesn't he deserve to be hurt? Don't monsters deserve to be hurt? Why would she be crying about it?
And then he realizes something very simple:
Mikan had always loved him.
He feels stupid. Like an idiot. All this time, he was trying so hard to make her love him, but in doing so, he destroyed the feelings she already had. It's here, that he realizes what he's been doing: he's been tainting her. Corroding that love into hate, corroding her goodness into evil, because isn't that just what villains do? They can't love anything that isn't a monster, so they turn you into one to hold you close.
Mikan isn't a monster.
He's making her into one.
Kokichi realizes this, as Mikan chokes him. He realizes this, and for the first time on years, he makes a purely selfless decision.
If all he can do is hurt Mikan Tsumiki by being around her—Kokichi won't be around her.
It must be a relief, for Mikan, Kokichi thinks dully as he stares at the waters below. That the monster who tormented her will soon be gone.
So why is he hesitating? This is how it always goes. Villains always die in the stories he reads, it's inevitable. So why does he not want to?
No one in his entire life has ever protected him. No one has ever shown him love without pain. Not even Mikan, he thinks, wryly, rubbing his neck.
He thinks that's kind of sad.
Kokichi had never thought of himself as a pity case; as someone pitiable. That's why it drove him crazy when Mikan did—when she sought to elicit pity from everyone in the audience, with her big, wet eyes. He didn't think he was someone to pity, that his life was sad, but now that he looks back on it, perhaps it was, huh? Perhaps Kokichi had always been a pitiful person.
He laughs, at that thought. But who would really feel pity for the villain of the story? Silly Kokichi, thinking such nonsense things at a time like this. He is a fool till the end.
"Are you okay?" Someone asks, and Kokichi startles.
It's a girl with sandy hair in twin tails, who looks vaguely familiar. She's peering at him with concern. "Tsumiki, right? We go to the same school. You saved me from bullies. I never got to thank you for that; you were just like a hero."
Did he do that? Kokichi remembers how he often threw himself between bullies and would-be victims, but… it wasn't anything as kind as this girl was describing. He just wanted all their attention on him. If anything, he felt— jealous of the victims he swooped into "save".
There's something like caution in the girls gaze, as she asks, "What are you doing out here? You have bruises all over your throat, too…"
A hysterical laugh climbed it's way up Kokichi's throat. Was someone seriously worried about him now? When it was already said and done, and Kokichi was about to end up at the bottom of this ravine?
Was someone seriously trying to protect him now !?
"It's none of your fucking business," Kokichi snarls between giggles, an odd juxtaposition, and the girl flinches. Good , he thought, viciously; there was no need to help a monster.
But, oddly, the girl steeled herself. "Please, I just want to help," she says, "You don't need to push me away. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Kokichi stared at her, humor, anger, evaporating into bafflement, tiredness. "Why?" He whispered.
The girl smiled. "You looked like you needed help, that's all."
"I can't go back there," his hands unconsciously went up to his neck, "I can't go back there, and the only way out is down. Just leave me, okay?"
"That's not true," the girl said stubbornly, "If you can't go back there, why don't you come with me?"
"...With you?"
"My foster parents won't even notice another kid under their house; if you really can't go back, isn't it better to run away and live, versus doing… something like this?"
Kokichi stared.
Someone really was trying to protect him.
He couldn't help it, he laughed once more. A different flavor, not as hysterical, but still a laugh. "You're a real strange one, aren't you?" He grinned, crooked. "Kokichi Tsumiki. That's my name. What's yours?"
"Hana Ouma."
"Nice to meet you, Hana Ouma!" Kokichi giggled, "I have a feeling we're going to be great friends!"
And grasping the hand his savior held out, Kokichi left behind his old life and embraced a new one with a grin.