Work Text:
It's around 5 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th. The sky is blue, and the temperature, while warm, is comfortable for a day out. Very few clouds line the sky, and the sunlight was bright enough to make Fuuta squint.
He hates going out most of the time. Maybe for the occasional game of soccer, but these days he feels more comfortable in his room. Well, Mikoto likes being outside. He approaches the small park, hearing the crosswalk melody and distant chattering. Looking around, he spots the other rather quickly. His heart rate picks up a tad, and his mood instantly gets better once they lock eyes and he wears that damn smile. This has been happening a lot lately, much to his own dismay.
He can't help but stare for a moment at the other, sitting at the swing set with a stray black cat in his lap. Or at least he assumes it's a stray, judging by the way Mikoto isn't allowed to keep a pet in his apartment. He messily shoves down his fuzzy feelings and approaches the other man, taking a seat in the swing right next to him. The cat's ear twitches, but ultimately stays asleep.
“I thought animals hated you or something.” Fuuta says, because he's incapable of greeting the other nicely. But the other laughs, running a hand through that silky black fur.
“I guess it's not every animal.” He shrugs.
“It does look pretty comfortable.” He grumbles a little and the other raises an eyebrow with a teasing smile.
“Are you jealous?”
“Huh?”
“Of the cat?”
It takes a moment for him to realize that he doesn't mean being jealous that he's not the one holding the cat, but rather that he's jealous that the cat is being held. His face goes red- clearly and obviously with anger- as he flicks the other's forehead.
“If you weren't holding a cat, I'd beat the shit out of you.”
“You wouldn't! You love me too much~!” He teases, and Fuuta kicks his shin. It's true, but he's not going to confirm that. Not when he's so obviously joking.
The cicadas start chirping and there's the sound of cars passing by. Of course, he's not looking at the cicadas or the cars. It's a bit warmer than it was 3 minutes ago. They go quiet for a minute, until Mikoto looks up at the sky with a sigh.
“I do kind of hate the summer.” He says, closing his eyes.
“I figured it'd be your favorite season.” Fuuta replies, and Mikoto just laughs. He notices that he seems a bit tired. He must be working overtime again. What an idiot.
An idiot he's very pathetically in love with, but an idiot nonetheless. But Fuuta is probably an even bigger idiot, with how he absolutely refuses to pursue his feelings. He doesn't think that Mikoto could possibly feel the same way he does, not with someone like him.
The black cat's ears twitch before its head perks up. Jumping off of Mikoto's lap, it runs towards the road.
It's 12:30 PM on August 15th.
The light is green, but there's virtually no cars on the road. Mikoto gets out of his seat, saying something that Fuuta doesn't completely catch about making sure the cat doesn't get hit. He shakes his head.
“Be careful running into the road, idiot!” He shouts after him.
Mikoto is reckless, and it makes Fuuta anxious every time he does something impulsive like this.
But the light turns red, giving Fuuta a bit of comfort as Mikoto runs into the road.
The sky is blue, and the temperature, while warm, is comfortable for a day out. Very few clouds line the sky, and the sunlight was bright enough to make Fuuta squint.
There's no warning other than the screech of tires. It's a loud sound that invades his brain, but it can't compare to what happens next.
Fuuta didn't realize he had reached his hand out, nor did he realize he shouted. He vaguely remembers seeing Mikoto turning around before the speeding truck crashed into him.
Unlike the way he's seen and read in media, time doesn't feel like it stops. It doesn't even feel like it slowed down. Instead, it feels like it sped up. It happened so quickly, that Fuuta thought he had blinked. He didn't.
The truck drives off, and Mikoto's head hits the pavement with the most sickening sound he's ever heard.
… Huh?
It takes his mind a second too long for him to process everything that just happened. Since when was he on the sidewalk? Had he rushed forward? Looking down at himself, something red sticks to him. Oh. It's blood. It's… Mikoto's blood.
The shocked haze turns to terror. It's the most primal fear he's ever felt in his 20 years of living. Someone screamed, a visceral scream that would surely damage someone’s throat. It was a horrible noise. Fuuta didn't know he could ever sound like that.
As he rushes to Mikoto's side, his knees scrape against the concrete, but he doesn't even feel it. All sense of logical thought has left him.
He grabs his friend, and feels sick when he feels just how limp he is. No, nothing has been decided. With a sticky, shaking hand, he feels for his pulse. No. It's not there. Maybe he's too panicked, maybe he's feeling the wrong spot. He should… He should check for breathing. Right. As he lifts his hand to the other's mouth, he locks eyes with the mangled body in his arms.
Oh.
Aren't they supposed to look brighter than this?
Oh.
Fuuta's throat is raw from the number of curses he lets out. Looking around, he sees a crowd has formed around him. There's phones and cameras pointed their way. His vision continues to spin as the cicadas shriek.
The light is red. It was red. The light was red. The light turned red. It’s still red.
His vision is blurry. Is he crying? He doesn't want to check. He locks eyes with a black cat. Fuuta never thought his favorite animal could look so terrifying.
It's hotter than it was earlier. This isn't a joke. The heat makes everything hazy. The cicadas continue shrieking as he promptly blacks out.
Fuuta wakes up.
He hears the distant sound of a ticking clock as his body trembles and he gasps for air. The time. What time is it?
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th.
He remembers the annoying sound of the cicadas, still buzzing in his head. A… dream. It was a dream. Well, less of a dream and more of a nightmare. Even though it was so vivid that he still feels a bit of that blood sticking to his clothes. When he checks, it's just sweat.
Besides, the dream happened on the 15th. That relaxes him somewhat as he turns onto his side. But not enough to help him fall back asleep. He’s restless.
And he stays restless until August 15th, a little before 12:30 PM.
It's kind of weird. That he dreamed of this meeting. He approaches the small park, hearing the crosswalk melody and distant chattering. Looking around, he spots the other rather quickly. He feels more relief than he should, seeing him smile back at him.
He can't help but stare for a moment at the other, sitting at the swing set with a stray black cat in his lap.
What a… strange coincidence. He feels chills despite how warm it is. He gulps as he approaches, taking a seat in the swing right next to him. The cat's ear twitches, but ultimately stays asleep. Fuuta almost says what he did in his dream, before stopping himself. Isn't this too similar?
“Cat got your tongue?” Mikoto jokes, and he feels a bit better after hearing his voice. “You look tired.”
“Just didn't get much sleep.” He shrugs. He eyes the green light, with practically no cars on the road. He feels tense.
“I think we've both been bad with our sleep, huh?” Mikoto laughs, running his hand through the cat's silky black fur. Fuuta's heart beats a bit quicker after he hears it.
A part of him wonders if he should try confessing any time soon. That nightmare definitely didn't make him feel comfortable with the idea of leaving it up in the air. But it was also a nightmare, no matter how… similar this all is. He closes his eyes for a moment.
If that cat runs into the road, he'll just grab Mikoto before he can run after it. He doesn't need to pour his heart out right this second.
The cicadas start chirping and there's the sound of cars passing by. Of course, he's not looking at the cicadas or the cars. It's a bit warmer than it was 3 minutes ago. They go quiet for a minute, until Mikoto looks up at the sky with a sigh.
“It's warmer, isn't it?” Fuuta says. He’s worried Mikoto was about to say the thing he had said in his nightmare. So beats him to it. Mikoto nods.
“I do kind of hate summer.” He says it anyways. Fuuta grips the swing set a bit tighter. He decides not to repeat himself. The road is still clear and the light is still green.
Fuuta feels like it wasn't just a dream. Or even if it was, he doesn't want to risk it. Mikoto is too important to him to risk it, even if it's stupid and he’s being paranoid over a nightmare like a child.
The black cat's ears twitch before its head perks up. Jumping off of Mikoto's lap, it runs towards the road.
It's 12:30 PM on August 15th.
The light is green, but there's virtually no cars on the road. Mikoto gets out of his seat, saying something that Fuuta doesn't completely catch about making sure the cat doesn't get hit.
The redhead stands up and grabs his hand before that can happen. Mikoto looks back at him curiously. His eyes still look tired. Well, at least he's alive to rest.
“How about we just go to your place?” He suggests.
They watch as the cat crosses the road and the lights turn red. A truck going far too fast drives by, and Fuuta feels ill. Mikoto then smiles at him, and he doesn't wait for a response before he drags his- thankfully alive- idiot with him.
Mikoto laughs, and Fuuta already loves that sound. But he likes it a little bit more. They walk along a sidewalk, people bustling around and some construction workers hanging around a building. The cicadas are still screaming, and it makes his head hurt just a little as his grip tightens on the other's hand.
“Are you sure you didn't just want to hold my hand? Are you confessing soon too?” He teases, and Fuuta blushes, letting go of his hand.
The chattering of people around him suddenly gets louder as he turns around to notice that Mikoto isn't walking anymore. There's a smile on his face, one that looks strange.
“Mikoto?” He asks, and the other waves his hand dismissively.
“I guess I'll wait for that love confession some other time.” He jokes as he continues walking, playfully shoving Fuuta as he walks past.
The commotion gets louder, some bystanders pointing towards something. There's a sound of a wire snapping.
… There's some shouting as Mikoto moves past him.
Didn't they see some construction workers earlier?
Not that he even has time to finish that thought.
He could almost laugh. Because it's so impossible. How could something like this possibly happen in real life?
From above, where construction was being done, they somehow dropped a plentiful amount of metal pipes.
Once again, it happens quickly. One of the pipes goes through Mikoto's body. He doesn't have time to ponder how possible something like this is. He hears him make a bone chilling noise. Right. Mikoto died instantly before. This is worse. Somehow, the crashing of the rest of the metal pipes drowns out the most haunting sound that's ever come from a human. Fuuta isn't sure if he would be grateful or not. Well, not that that's on his mind right now.
His body hits the ground, and Fuuta covers his mouth so he doesn't scream, or vomit. There's a black cat watching from across the street.
It wasn’t a dream.
The sun is blazing hot. Fuuta doesn't get the chance to run towards him this time.
But as the world was darkening, he thought he saw Mikoto smile.
Fuuta wakes up.
He sits up instantly, gasping for air as he runs his hands through his hair.
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th.
The redhead stumbles out of bed, his legs shaking as he throws the bathroom door open. He vomits.
As he pants on the bathroom floor, the scent of blood is still in his nose. No. He can't wave this off anymore. Those were no dreams.
Then what the fuck is he supposed to do?! Wiping his mouth, he ignores the bitterness on his tongue and slowly stands up, using the counter to support him.
He was able to stop him from getting hit by the car, right? Maybe if they go to Fuuta's place instead, they'll be fine. He'll even keep an eye out on his way there. Anything that could possibly kill him, he'll try to avoid. He must be in this loop for a reason, right? And it seems to restart every time Mikoto dies. So that must be what breaks the cycle. That has to be it, right?
He coughs a few times as his breathing slowly returns back to normal. He hopes he can break the loop soon.
He spends the rest of the 14th pacing in his room.
It's 8 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th.
He’s earlier than he was in the previous two attempts. Before Mikoto can even greet him, he grabs the idiot's hand and yanks him off of the swingset, that damn cat hissing and running off.
“Fuuta?” Mikoto asks, seemingly alarmed. He holds his hand tighter. They're going to his place, and he's going to make sure nothing hurts him. He had already taken note before of some broken telephone wires, and a manhole cover that's under construction. He even made sure to be careful about a group of teens he saw earlier. They need to cross the road later, but it's okay because there's a pedestrian crossing bridge.
“Fuuta!” Mikoto calls his name, concern lacing his voice, and he finally looks over. He stops walking. Fuuta wonders if stopping like this may trigger a different event. He taps his foot anxiously as the other looks at him with worry.
“W… What?” He stammers, and despite everything he still can't help but feel a little flustered when he sees how worried the other man is for him. He loves him. His grip on his hand tightens. He'll tell him that once they get to his place.
“Are you okay? What's wrong?” He asks, stepping closer and Fuuta turns away. He sighs, eyeing some of the passing cars. He remembers the sound he heard when he had hit the pavement and he runs a hand through his hair.
“I, um…” He stammers, trying to think of what to say. “I have something important to tell you. At my place.”
Mikoto tilts his head, and his gaze follows Fuuta's looking at the cars. He then looks behind the redhead, before finally looking at him again.
“I wonder if Fuuta's going to say he loves me~!” Mikoto teases. Well. It's actually the truth. He scoffs.
“So annoying.” He mumbles, but there's no heat behind it.
“Oh? That wasn’t a no!” The taller laughs as Fuuta continues to drag him along.
“Quit joking around.” He grumbles. The other man doesn't respond, but he does squeeze his hand. It makes Fuuta wonder if he has some hope.
They make it to the pedestrian crossing bridge. He's quite happy about it, especially after seeing all of the cars driving by.
“You don't need to hold on so tightly, you know.” Mikoto teases and they start walking up the stairs. “Unless you just love me that much!”
“Oh, shut up.” He groans, but figures it's probably reckless to drag him up the stairs anyways. He lets go.
It's hotter than it was earlier. The cicadas are loud as he reaches the top and looks back at him. But not before he catches a glimpse of a black cat watching him a few feet away on this very bridge.
His eyes immediately go back to Mikoto. But he's already falling. How?
Fuuta tries to grab him, though he knows it's in vain.
The pedestrian crossing bridge was safe when he used it earlier. None of the steps were wobbly. There was nothing he could've slipped on, because Fuuta walked up here first.
Did he really just slip all on his own?
Well, his line of questioning isn't that important right now. Because the back of Mikoto's head hits the edge of one of the steps and he tumbles down ungracefully.
It’s just a fall. He could just be injured. He knows it's all wishful thinking as he twists his ankle during his rush down.
Somehow, someway… Something made his neck twist far too unnaturally.
Fuuta screams in frustration and agony. It almost felt intentional. How else would he have fallen like that if there wasn't some force making it happen? How could he have twisted his neck this much? There's no other explanation.
Blood leaks from the wound on his head, and his favorite color has never looked uglier.
He screams curses as he punches the ground next to Mikoto's body.
The heat of the sun makes him sweat, and the cicadas are annoyingly loud.
Fuuta's vision goes black.
Fuuta wakes up.
He failed again. But just to make sure… He grabs his phone to check the time and date.
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th. Good. He has another chance. He feels ghost pain in his ankle and on his knuckles, but upon inspection, they're perfectly fine. Not that that would've changed anything. He needs to think.
So he knows three unsafe paths now. But he also noticed in the second loop that that car still drove by. So does that mean the times are all set in stone? After it drives by, could they safely walk across the street? Part of him doesn’t want to risk it. He bites at his nail as he pulls out his phone and opens his map app. He can figure something out.
It's 5 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th.
Fuuta thinks he got here around the same time he did during the first death. He approaches the small park, hearing the crosswalk melody and distant chattering. That sound is gonna traumatize him, isn’t it? He spots Mikoto immediately, wordlessly sitting in the swing next to him. The other man smiles.
“You seem tired.” He says, and Fuuta huffs, rubbing his eyes.
“No way, really?” The redhead replies sarcastically. It’s a bit hard to not feel tired. Not after he practically memorized the map around this place, trying to commit to memory what could be dangerous for Mikoto. God, it feels like he’s trying to babyproof a house but instead he’s trying to stop a grown man from dying horrifically.
“Cranky too!” At least he’s smiling. And breathing. And laughing. At least he’s here. For now. No, he shouldn’t think like this. There must be some hope.
The cicadas start chirping and there's the sound of cars passing by. Of course, he's not looking at the cicadas or the cars. It's a bit warmer than it was 3 minutes ago. It should be happening in 2 minutes.
Without warning or explanation, he grabs onto Mikoto’s hand. He gets a look of surprise. He doesn’t exactly care about being subtle anymore, though there’s still that reluctance to outright state his feelings. If he says them, and then he dies anyways, the next loop’s Mikoto won’t remember that. He wants to say them the minute the clock turns 12, and the 15th becomes the 16th. Because maybe that’ll mean that they won. Sure, Fuuta will be traumatized for life, always checking the calendar and time every morning, fearing something will hurt the person he loves every time they’re separated. But at least he’ll be alive.
The black cat's ears twitch before its head perks up. Jumping off of Mikoto's lap, it runs towards the road.
It's 12:30 PM on August 15th.
The light is green, but there's virtually no cars on the road. To his surprise, Mikoto doesn’t attempt to chase after it. He opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. Looking at him, he sees a blush on his face. This is the kind of red that Fuuta likes to see. If it were up to him, he’d never let go of this hand.
He watches as the cat crosses the road and the lights turn red. A truck going far too fast drives by, and Fuuta stands up, lacing their fingers together and pointing with his other hand.
“How about we go inside the stores? It’s a bit hot.” He says, and his friend smiles. He hesitates when they walk to the road. He looks both ways, maybe more times than considered necessary, before stepping onto it first.
To his surprise, they cross the road with no issues. He drags him into a random store.
“Maybe you should sit down? You seem exhausted.” Mikoto suggests, and Fuuta stares at his alive face for longer than necessary, before quickly looking away.
“I don’t know. Let’s look around.” he suggests.
Now that he thinks about it, a store isn’t the safest place ever. There could be an armed robbery. Maybe he should’ve considered that earlier. He warily eyes every person they pass in this store. A random clerk, some kids roughhousing, a couple of old people. Just to be safe, he pulls him down a random aisle with no one in it, but close enough to others where he could hear if there’s a commotion.
“Are you thinking of cooking more or something?” Mikoto asks, letting go of his hand to pick up a pot from the shelf.
“Uh… Yeah. Yuno’s been nagging that I never make her anything when she visits.” He says, fighting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets like he usually would. But he needs them out in case he needs to drag Mikoto away.
“Oh? Maybe I could help you out!” He offers with a smile, and Fuuta promises to himself he’ll tell Mikoto after this is all over. He’ll go through as many loops as he needs to to save that smile.
He almost doesn’t pick up on the mothers nagging their children for roughhousing in the very next aisle. Almost. The second he does, and the shelf starts wobbling, he grabs his sleeve to pull him out. Mikoto stumbles, nearly tripping over. He nearly makes it, too.
It’s the pots that fall first. One landing on Fuuta’s arm and making him instinctively let go from the pain. Another falls on Mikoto’s head. Not enough to kill him, but he’s disoriented enough to not continue walking forward, a hand going to the spot on his head where it had landed.
“Idiot, get-!” He shouts, but of course, luck isn’t on his side.
It topples over. The shelf filled with heavy kitchen equipment falls onto Mikoto. It’s kind of sickening when everything settles, and all he can see of the other is the top of his head, hair matted up with blood. Fuuta normally isn’t the type of person to think like this, but he almost wants to kill the kids that did this.
He wonders what caused him to die this time. Maybe it was the head injury, maybe it was the broken ribs piercing his lungs, maybe his neck somehow got snapped or twisted. Fuuta isn’t sure if he’s glad or sad that he can’t see his face.
He hears a cat meowing. The cicadas outside taunt him.
As everything goes black, he sighs.
Fuuta wakes up.
The redhead nearly screams in frustration, punching the wall and tearing open his knuckles. He needs to double check. Just to make sure.
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th. He lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding and covers his face with his hands, ignoring the stinging in his knuckles. He wishes all the notes he made last time would have transferred. Well, it makes sense that it wouldn’t. But still. He needs to complain about something.
He knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep, so he stands up to pace around his room, still ignoring his bleeding knuckles as he bites his thumbnail. Maybe he should try one of their homes again? Maybe if he takes a different route? He can lie and say it’s a shortcut. He’ll have to scope it out himself first, probably.
But what if he goes and finds out that route isn’t safe? He should make a few backup plans too. He pulls up the map app yet again, looking at every possible path. This can work out. It has to.
It's 6 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th.
He arrives at the park, not paying attention to anything else. He came through one of the routes just now. If they leave, they may be able to make it to Fuuta’s dorm before any major changes can happen to kill him. So he doesn’t say anything as he pulls Mikoto off of the swing. The black cat hisses as it runs off.
“Woah! You’re being quite… forceful…” Mikoto trails off as he sees his scabbed knuckles and jagged nails from where he’s been biting. “Fuuta?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s go.” He mutters, but Mikoto stops walking, a sad look on his face that makes the redhead feel insanely guilty. Fuuta stops, but not before surveying the area.
“What happened?” He asks, holding both of Fuuta’s hands, inspecting the injuries he had given himself. He closes his eyes for a few moments, before he grabs his hands.
“I just… had a bad night. It was related to my dad.” He lies, but he gets a look of understanding. Both of them have bad fathers, so there’s not many words needed.
“You should’ve patched them up, though.” He says softly, and Fuuta looks away awkwardly. Or, well, not for long. Mikoto kisses the space above his knuckles, and heat immediately rushes to his face.
“If some random anvil falling from the sky doesn’t kill you, I will.” He mutters. Of course he doesn’t mean it. The whole point is saving him. But he also just wants a bit of normalcy after the previous deaths he’s witnessed.
“You love me too much!” Mikoto says with a wink and Fuuta ignores him, leading him down the route he had taken earlier. “An alleyway? You’re so forward!”
“Shut up!” He says, ignoring his own embarrassment. There’s more important things to be worrying about.
They both pause when they hear a voice around the corner. Fuuta immediately turns around. But of course, things will never be easy for him. He steps on a shard of glass from a broken bottle, alerting the people there immediately. Mikoto grabs his arm, pulling him back. Idiot! Why would he do that?
A man clearly not in his right mind is shouting something. Something maybe about them seeing what he was doing. Fuuta’s too focused on the hand currently grabbing his friend’s wrist. Fuck Mikoto for pushing him back instead of running. The man is yelling about something. Fuuta acts on instinct first. It’s been a while since he’s thrown a punch at a person. Probably not since highschool. His already damaged knuckles tear more as it connects with that man’s jaw. The man staggers, and as Fuuta grabs Mikoto’s hand again, it slips out of his grasp when he gets a kick to the gut, the wind getting knocked out of him as he stumbles back and hits the wall. He thinks he hears something break.
Trying to get air back in his lungs, he can only feel anger when he sees Mikoto get punched, a pained noise leaving him. He needs to get up. The man, seeming to deduce that Fuuta would be easier to deal with, stalks towards him. His hand fumbles around for purchase, before stopping when he feels a bottle. That works.
Once he’s in range, he kicks the man between the legs. It’s not like this was a fair fight to begin with anyways, so he may as well do anything he can. And that’s exactly what he does, once the man doubles over. He smashes the bottle into his head. Alcohol bottles are very sturdy, so it surprises even Fuuta that it breaks the second it hits that man’s skull, a stray shard scratching his face. The man doubles over, before landing on the ground.
“F-Fuuta, are you alright?” The other asks weakly. He stands up, kicking the man in the head for good measure, before leaning against the wall to catch his breath.
“I’m alive. You?” He asks, receiving a weak giggle that turns into a pained breath.
“He just punched me.”
Fuuta wonders if he might’ve beat one of the ways Mikoto can die. Sure, there may be more waiting for them after they get out of this alley, but if he was able to avoid this on the first loop it appears in, maybe there’s some hope.
He staggers over to Mikoto, only to see his white shirt stained in blood. And it only spreading more.
“You idiot!” He shouts, grabbing his shoulders. “He stabbed you!”
“Huh… That’s weird… I didn’t even feel the blade.” He laughs shakily, and Fuuta fights back tears of frustration as he pulls his phone out. Only to see it must have broke when he hit the wall earlier. Great. Without asking for permission, he searches Mikoto’s pockets. And he only gets more upset when there’s no phone to be found.
“So forward.” Mikoto weakly jokes.
“Don’t.” His voice cracks slightly as he puts Mikoto’s arm over his shoulders. Mikoto looks at him, before looking down and covering the wound with his hand. Not like it’ll do much, but if it helps even a little bit.
He can still get him out to the road, where someone can see them and call for help. Mikoto’s still alive. Maybe that man missed any vital organs. He knows he’s just trying to comfort himself, though. They slowly walk together.
“It doesn’t matter what you say, just talk to me.” Fuuta says. He’d at least like to know when the man he’s carrying becomes a corpse.
“It’s a shame he was there, I was looking forward to your confession.” Mikoto says with a smile, his voice shaking a bit. Fuuta sighs. Of course his last conversation with him for this loop would be something like this.
“I think the bigger shame is that you were fucking stabbed.” He growls, biting the inside of his cheek.
“I’m glad it wasn’t you.” He says softly, smiling at him. Fuuta takes a shaky breath, trying to focus on not crying and to just get them out of this alleyway.
“It should’ve been me.” He mutters, and Mikoto rests his head against him more.
“I’d take a knife for you again, you know.” He continues, and the redhead bites his lip. “Or a bullet, but those are a little hard to come across in Japan, huh?”
“Stop..”
“Did you know I’d die for you?” Mikoto asks, before inhaling sharply, biting back a pained noise.
“You shouldn’t have to. I’d prefer if you lived for me instead.” He says, ignoring the way his voice is trembling.
“That’d… be nice…” Mikoto hums, stumbling a bit and Fuuta quickly corrects him. “... Sorry…”
“C… Can you still walk?”
They try walking a bit further, but the injured man gasps and puts almost his full weight onto Fuuta. He tries not to think about it as he slowly lowers them down. Mikoto almost immediately leans against the wall, breathing shakily as he holds onto his wound.
“Sorry…” Mikoto apologizes and he takes some deep breaths, trying his best to keep a clear mind.
The man stares up at him, a smile still on his face, though he also looks sad. Fuuta once again tries to turn his phone on, although he knows it’s absolutely useless. He doesn’t want to think about how Mikoto might die in front of him like this a countless number of times. But it’s seeming more and more likely. Tears finally start falling once he finally comes to terms that he won’t be able to save him this time. Mikoto lets go of his wound and reaches up to wipe his tears, but it only serves to wipe his blood on his face.
“Ah.. I made it worse…” He sighs, but keeps his shaking hand on his cheek. Fuuta puts his own hand over it, gripping it tightly like it’ll keep him here.
“You… You don’t have to s-say anything else…” Fuuta cries, and he wonders how the other can still smile so gently.
“But I have… I have more to say…” He says, his eyes becoming unfocused for a moment before he locks them with Fuuta’s. With a smile still on his face, he brazenly states his last words, “I love you.”
The hand he holds against his face slowly goes limp, and his breathing gets shorter and short as he closes his eyes.
Fuuta screams in agony, voice breaking as he cradles his lifeless body. He never wanted to hear those words like this. A black cat trots behind him. It’s unbearably hot, and the cicadas continue to scream, as if they’re trying to drown out the sound of his grief.
Everything goes black.
Fuuta wakes up.
There’s tears already in his eyes as he sits up, wiping them away. He fears that he'll have to be there for even more traumatizing deaths. All of them have been awful. Of course they have been. But he thinks about those last words and nearly chokes up again.
Fuuta doesn't like crying. He scrubs them away, trying to push it out of his mind. He checks his phone.
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th. He sits in his bed for a while longer, holding his head in his hands as he tries to regulate his emotions. He can cry when this is all over. When they both make it to the 16th. He shudders a sigh before he gets up.
There's more routes they could take to get to Fuuta’s place. But after what happened last time, he thinks that maybe he should try finding another path to Mikoto's. If they cross the street, they can avoid the metal pipes. But he's only familiar with one path to his apartment building. Once again, he studies the map. He wonders if he'll do this enough times to get it memorized. Hopefully it won’t have to be that many more times. It'd be great if this time is the last. He knows that must be wishful thinking.
It's 6 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th, and he walks into the park the opposite way he normally comes. Because of course, he was checking out every possible route they can take to Mikoto's apartment. But he doesn’t need to know that. Mikoto's already looking his way. He’s alive again. For some reason, that smile makes him want to cry.
Ignoring the cat, he walks over and drops his head onto Mikoto's shoulder.
“Tired?” He asks softly, and that only makes him want to cry more. He wordlessly nods. The hand that was petting the cat finds its way to his hair. “What were you up to instead of sleeping?”
He was up for over 24 hours obsessively trying to figure out the safest possible route they could take to get to Mikoto's apartment. He was also taking notes of anything and everything.
“I was studying.” It's not a complete lie. He just wants to come out of this with both of them alive. He focuses on the way the hand in his hair moves.
“You shouldn't overwork yourself. Try resting next time.” He speaks gently and Fuuta can’t help laughing a bit.
“Says the man who overworks like it'll kill him if he doesn't.” He teases and Mikoto laughs.
“I'm using my right to remain silent.”
“That doesn't work in Japan, dumbass.”
“So mean to me…”
They stay like that for a bit longer. Fuuta wishes it was just a normal day. Maybe if he had stopped him the first time, they wouldn't be stuck in this loop. What was he doing just letting him run into the road like an idiot? Maybe Fuuta is the biggest idiot here.
The black cat's ears twitch before its head perks up. Jumping off of Mikoto's lap, it runs towards the road. Fuuta preemptively grabs the man's hand.
It's 12:30 PM on August 15th.
The light is green, but there's virtually no cars on the road. Mikoto doesn’t get up. The cat crosses the road and the lights turn red. A truck going far too fast drives by.
“Can we just go to your place?” He asks quietly. Mikoto strokes his hair for a little longer, before sighing.
“Sure thing. Maybe you can take a nap when we get there.” He says and wouldn’t that be nice? It sounds great.
“On your stiff ass couch? I'll pass.” He says, but it lacks the sass he'd normally have.
“Then you can just lay on my bed!” He offers as they stand. Fuuta drags him across the street and away from the store they had gone in before.
“I'll stay awake. What if you burn your apartment down?” Fuuta sighs as he leads him along.
“No faith in me…” Mikoto whines and he rolls his eyes.
As they walk, across the street the metal pipes fall and both of them flinch. Fuuta bites his lip at the familiar sound, trying to push it out of his mind. He adjusts his grip on Mikoto's hand as they walk. He’s afraid to let go of him. Afraid to lose sight of him.
He feels sick. He already decided on which route would be the safest. It's another main road, so if he gets a slow death, others will see and be able to call an ambulance. Of course there's still the chance of other accidents. But as for things outside of cars, he couldn't find anything that could harm Mikoto. Still, he’s worried. That man appeared only a few minutes after Fuuta had last been there. Anything could’ve changed.
They walk past a subway entrance, and he keeps it in mind if he needs to look into it as an option for a future loop. He tenses up when a lady drops her umbrella by the stairs, but is surprised when nothing happens. Maybe not everything could become an insane death. But now that makes him more paranoid. What actions and objects could lead to a death? What could just be false alarms.
“Weird to have an umbrella when it's so sunny.” Mikoto comments as they walk by.
“Mmmhm.” He hums, though it only makes him paranoid once again. Why does she have it?
Well… they're too far away now. He tries to calm down. His anxiety only gets worse and worse the closer they get to Mikoto's apartment. He wonders what could possibly get in his way this time. Mikoto eyes him with some worry.
He almost doesn't believe it once they reach the apartment complex. Well, he shouldn't celebrate. Mikoto lives on the 4th floor. He eyes the rails in front of the doors, and somewhat dreads the stairwell after one of the previous loops.
But as they enter, he sees that the stairwell is locked for damages. He stares for a moment.
“Oh, right. Looks like we're taking the elevator.” Mikoto says, pressing the button without waiting for a response. God, when's the last time he used one of these?
The elevator dings as the doors slide open. Fuuta anxiously boards, with Mikoto right behind him. But as the doors close, he groans and sinks to his knees. Mikoto laughs, putting his arms around his shoulders to hug him from behind.
“You sure you don't wanna take a nap?” He asks, leaning over him to look at his face. Fuuta clicks his tongue as they lock eyes.
“No. Now get off of me, I wanna stand.” Fuuta grumbles, and his friend laughs, pinching his cheeks as the elevator ascends.
He forgot how scary elevators sound. It makes him tense up a little bit. But it's hard to focus on when Mikoto is taking up all of his attention by being annoying.
“You're heavy.” He complains.
“So mean!” Mikoto gasps. “You better apologize.”
“Hmm…”
“I'll forgive you if you kiss me!” He says, and Fuuta blushes at the idea of that. But as he's about to open his mouth to say something, the elevator makes a groaning noise and the lights flicker.
There’s a snapping sound, he thinks. He doesn't get much time to ponder what it could be before the elevator is falling. It’s scary. Are they both going to die? He thinks he feels Mikoto pulling him closer. Though, again, he can't tell. Because they hit the ground.
His vision fails him, a loud ringing in his ears. Did he get knocked out? He groans in pain. His ribs are definitely cracked. He tries to push himself up, but there’s something heavy on top of him. He freezes at the realization, clenching his fist. Mikoto's hair tickles his cheek. It seems like he took most of, if not all of the damage from the elevator's roof collapsing. There's some pain in Fuuta's jaw from where he must've hit the floor.
“H… Hurts…” He hears Mikoto mumble. Of course, they're going to make it slow again. He selfishly wishes Mikoto will pass quicker, for both of their sakes. Fuuta doesn't say anything. There's no way he could try reassuring him in this state. “Fuuta..?”
“I-I'm… okay.” He eventually says. Mikoto sighs next to his ear. He feels something wet on his shoulder.
“Good… Th.. Tha's… good.” His words slur a bit. Maybe because of the head injury. It's depressing to listen to.
“Idiot.”
Mikoto breathes a small laugh. Fuuta wishes he could move, but the other remains on top of him, beneath the rubble. He thinks he hears sirens in the distance.
“As long… as long as you're..” Mikoto sighs, and he feels him shudder. “... Don't die…”
“I should be the one saying that.” He says quietly. His throat feels tight.
“Mm..” The other man rests a bruised hand on his arm. “D'you… love me..?”
Of course he’s using that word again. He takes a shaky breath, eyes stinging.
“... Yes.” He says, voice cracking. Mikoto laughs lightly, patting his arm.
“Yay…” He sounds happy, in the most heartbreaking way possible. “I lo-”
“I-I know… Please…”
Mikoto hums, seeming to understand. He lets out a sigh, as Fuuta's shoulder grows more wet and he feels him nuzzle closer.
“... ‘m tired…”
Fuuta closes his eyes, internally cursing the firemen and ambulance who came just a moment too late. When he opens his eyes, in his blurry vision, he once again sees a black cat. He wonders if it's the heat making everything hazy. All he hears is his ears ringing.
Everything goes black.
Fuuta wakes up.
The cycle continues.
The only warning he got was the sound of metal creaking. Fuuta watches helplessly as the sign of a company falls onto Mikoto's head. He hits the sidewalk, and Fuuta tries not to vomit when he sees the way his head is slightly caved in.
Fuuta wakes up.
But it feels like there's no progress.
He figured maybe taking a different alleyway would lead to different results. This one is shorter, too. Mikoto walks ahead, turning to say something to him. And yet he trips, falling back onto an exposed nail that pierces the back of his neck. Fuuta screams in frustration.
Fuuta wakes up.
So he keeps trying.
When he takes a different path and finds a bridge, his immediate thought is to turn around. Or he would have.
“Look out!” Mikoto pushes Fuuta out of the way as a biker with a broken chain crashes into Mikoto before he could also move.
He falls over the edge of the bridge, being unlucky enough to not even hit the water. His blood splatters on the jagged rocks. He immediately climbs his way down, probably breaking his leg in the process on this steep hill, to see Mikoto still alive. Barely.
Fuuta figures he can at least hold him in his last moments for this loop. Mikoto was too damaged to form words this time. He's not sure if that makes it better or worse.
Fuuta wakes up.
And he tries again.
Fuuta decides to throw caution to the wind and use the subway under the excuse of going to a surprise visit to the aquarium or some other bullshit. They pass a woman as they start to go down the stairs, Mikoto seeming a bit eager.
The woman drops her umbrella and it trips Mikoto. Fuuta has stopped pondering the probability of things at this point. As they both fall, Fuuta winces as he watches the tip of that umbrella stab his neck. The sound sends chills through him as he makes his way towards his body at the bottom with a blank expression. Fuuta hates the color red. He tunes out that woman's screams as he hopelessly stares at the body. He died quickly this time.
Fuuta wakes up.
And again.
He attempts the subway again, now that he knows the time the lady will drop her umbrella, he goes after that occurs. But he didn’t expect it to be packed. Fuuta doesn't care, paying for their ride and waiting. He knows there are countless ways Mikoto could die here. But he needs to try.
His answer came quickly, but he tried. He tried to catch him when someone had accidentally knocked into him. He almost did, too. But the cruel god overseeing them always makes him just a moment too late. Mikoto falls onto the tracks just as the train arrives. Fuuta closes his eyes. It's a horrible way to go. So much so that Fuuta feels guilty for ever thinking that there was a way out through the obviously dangerous subway. He feels like an idiot as everyone around him screams.
It's not a sight most people would be used to.
Fuuta misses the days where this would have made him scream too.
Fuuta wakes up.
And again.
Drowning. Fuuta tried to save him. He couldn't.
And again.
Electrocution. There's no way that wire could've snapped so conveniently as they were walking by. He shouldn't have let Mikoto walk on his right side.
And again.
Strangulation. He wondered what on Earth he did to change the timeline this much as he sadly watches Mikoto's feet dangle.
And again.
Dismemberment. He flinches as Mikoto's blood hits him. It's surprising how cleanly it went through. He's having trouble even remembering what he did to get such an awful end.
And again. And again. And again.
Until the word “again” started to lose its meaning.
Fuuta wakes up.
He stares blankly at the wall. He kind of hates the summer. He wonders how long he's been here. It feels like it's been years. Maybe even decades. He hasn't given up trying to save Mikoto, not once. But he noticed he's been becoming desensitized to the deaths he sees. That's… not something he wants. Is it strange that he wants to feel sad when he dies again?
He lets out a sigh as he holds his head in his hands.
He thinks of something. It's a thought that's come to him numerous times. But he had been foolishly hoping that they could both make it out of this unharmed. Yeah. This cliche kind of story only has one ending.
He wants to believe there's a world beyond August 15th. His mind feels hazy.
It's around 5 minutes until 12:30 PM on August 15th. The sky is blue, and the temperature, while warm, is comfortable for a day out. Very few clouds line the sky, and the sunlight was bright enough to make Fuuta squint.
He approaches the small park, hearing the crosswalk melody and distant chattering. It's a noise he's come to memorize.
He thinks back to the very first death, that feels like it happened a lifetime ago. He might as well get it over with quickly. He sits down next to Mikoto on the swing set.
The cicadas start chirping and there's the sound of cars passing by. Of course, he's not looking at the cicadas or the cars. It's a bit warmer than it was 3 minutes ago. They go quiet for a minute, until Mikoto looks up at the sky with a sigh.
“I do kind of hate the summer.” He says, closing his eyes.
“I kind of hate it too…” He mutters.
The black cat's ears twitch before its head perks up. Jumping off of Mikoto's lap, it runs towards the road.
It's 12:30 PM on August 15th.
The light is green, but there's virtually no cars on the road. He watches Mikoto run towards the road and he follows shortly behind.
Suddenly, he grabs Mikoto. Well, one last selfish act before he goes. He grabs his face, kissing him. It's by no means a sweet kiss, their teeth clashing from the urgency, nor does it last long. After all, they don't have much time. He lets go of him before shoving him away as he steps onto the road. The light turns red. He thinks he sees a look of surprise on Mikoto's face. Fuuta smiles as the truck slams into him.
It's painful. He feels bad for Mikoto. That he had to experience such a death. His blood splashes onto Mikoto, a look of horror on his face as he stands there robotically.
It's bearable. He almost wants to laugh, as he makes eye contact with a cat. As if he were saying, “Take that!”
His head hits the concrete as he hears Mikoto scream.
"Oh..." Fuuta thinks, as things start turning black, "Maybe I should've said what I've been wanting to all this time."
It's quite the regular summer day for him.
"Well... I guess it doesn't matter now."
Only this time it's come to an end.
It's sometime past 12 AM on August 14th.
Mikoto wakes up.
He leans against the wall, stoically shedding tears and feeling them drop on his hands. He clenches the sheets tighter.
letting out a shaky sigh, he looks at the clock that taunts him. He touches his fingers to his lips for a moment, before his hand limply drops onto his lap once again.
“I failed this time too…”