Red Carnations and Purple Hyacinths @paranormal_worm
Chapter 1 Hi everyone!!! I don't have much to say thank you to everyone in the Oumasai discord!!! Ya'll kept me going and motivated me to finish this fic!!! Love ya'll <3 Also, this was supposed to be a two parter but it was getting really long (around 6000?) and I wanted to post something by now. I'll try to post it slowly until I run out and have to write again. Rip. Enjoy this mess! UPDATE: Tried to fix some stuff some friends told me I missed. Thanks guys! I wrote this on my phone pls help me (Date: February 14, 2018) so as some of you may know, i'm moving fics from a03 to here, so stick around until i get everything set up!! i'll be adding my old author's notes and the dates of them for posterity's sake also lmao imagine writing with capital letters at the start of sentences in the a/n. couldn't be me sadly. also "2 parter" RIP

--5 Weeks Left--

Ouma stares at the flowers that litter before his feet, each one a shade of gold that seemed to glitter in the darkness of his room.

The blood that had come out together with the flowers was there too, the disgusting color mocking him, reminding him of the fact that just as his class despised him, so did the one person he learned to love.

His vision is slightly blurry, throat sore from the small flowers that had come out of it. He coughed again, leaning on his desk as he did so, fingers gripping the edge tightly.

No flowers come out.

Ouma stays like that for a few minutes, leaning on his desk as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He laughed bitterly now and then, realizing that out of everything he had done in his lifetime, some stupid disease would be the one to take him down.

He thought maybe, just maybe, it would be better to have gone out with a bang, an ending made for a supreme leader and a good-for-nothing liar. But no, he was going to die all because the person he loved didn’t love him the same way he did.

He didn’t blame him though, everyone had a good reason to be angry at him. He played pranks on his classmates, mocked them, made them seem like total losers...who wouldn’t want him gone?

Apparently, that answer came in the form of one Saihara Shuichi.

Smart, clever, understanding, yet shy and quiet, Ouma always did see why someone as unpredictable as Saihara would be the one to claim the title of ‘Ultimate Detective’. He always managed to solve the strangest mysteries, even those that didn’t seem to have enough evidence to actually accuse someone for them. Ouma even remembers the times Saihara was able to see through his lies, calling him out on them moments later no matter how much everyone believed in his lies.The ability Saihara had to be unpredictable didn’t just stop there though. In fact, Ouma was shocked to learn that even after all the shit he’s pulled, angering all his classmates and getting them in trouble, Saihara, out of all his fifteen classmates, was the one to walk pass all those things and still consider him as his classmate and... ha ...his friend .

The ability Saihara had to be unpredictable didn’t just stop there though. In fact, Ouma was shocked to learn that even after all the shit he’s pulled, angering all his classmates and getting them in trouble, Saihara, out of all his fifteen classmates, was the one to walk pass all those things and still consider him as his classmate and... ha ...his friend .

Saihara, he’d never understand why, was the only one to see pass those lies and try to understand who he was, why he did these things, why he does them, and so much more.

Of course, he’d never tell him the truth, just lies, lies, and more lies, each one overlapping with each other until it created a web of them. His classmates had been tangled in his web of lies for a long, long time...and yet...and yet...one of them had escaped, hand reaching out for Ouma to take.

He didn’t blame him though, everyone had a good reason to be angry at him. He played pranks on his classmates, mocked them, made them seem like total losers...who wouldn’t want him gone?

Apparently, that answer came in the form of one Saihara Shuichi.

Suddenly, he realizes anyone can find him like this, pale, weak, and looking pathetic as hell. A face different from the Ouma Kokichi they all knew. Ouma felt sick at that. He had worked so hard just to push them away from him, a wall blocking him from the rest. It made him feel safe.

But what if this ruined all his work? The Ouma they saw then was nothing like the Ouma they could possibly see right now.

‘It’s around twelve in the morning, so there shouldn’t be any people right now.’ Ouma thinks to himself, but the thought of getting caught is going to be pretty inconvenient for him, and blackmail is another possibility.

More and more horrible possibilities come to light and swirl around his head, dread filling him as each one seemed to have a gigantic ‘GAME OVER’ over it. He pushes those thoughts away as far as he could, a smile on his face ready for anyone to see him-

No one is there.

Ouma breathes a sigh of relief, the fear leaving his system as he walked out his room and down the hallway, mentally kicking himself for over analyzing the situation at hand.

‘I do this too much.’ He jokingly thinks to himself, finally arriving to the end of the hallway where a small room with cleaning supplies was to be found. He grabs a mop, some plastic, and whatever he thinks can help him with his ‘little’ problem, and leaves, struggling to balance everything he’s carrying.

He exits the room, shoes echoing, a smile on his face, thinking that nothing can go wrong-

He bumps into someone.

‘I should really learn when to shut up.’ He says to himself, looking up to see who bumped him, some witty remark ready to be fired at the tip of his tongue.

Saihara stares at him, wide-eyed.

“Of-fucking-course it’s Saihara-chan who finds me at a time like this.” He furiously mutters to himself while looking away from Saihara, cursing at himself for not thinking something like this could happen.

Oh wait, he did.

He quietly groans before he looks back at Saihara, a strained smile on his face, “Heeey, Saihara-chan! What are you doing at a time like this? They say ghosts lurk around at times like this, after all!”

Smooth. Ouma wants to kick himself.

Saihara laughs a little, hand nervously scratching his neck, “You should say that to Momota-kun,” He says, a smile on his face that makes Ouma’s heart jump, “Maybe he’ll tone down on the training we have. Maybe even change the time we do it, at least.”

‘Ah, so he was training with him.’ Ouma doesn’t miss a beat, “Maybe I will, who knows? It’ll be a good scare for that dumb astronaut.”

He continues walking away, walking pass Saihara, “Well, I’ll be going then! See y-”

Saihara cuts him off, “Ouma-kun, what are you doing with all that stuff?”

Ouma’s smile thins.

Fuck .

He shrugs at Saihara, turning back to look at him, “Hm, I decided to clean my room!”

“At twelve in the morning when we have classes in a few hours?” Saihara says, eyebrow raised.

“You’re training at twelve in the morning when we have classes in a few hours, Saihara-chan?” He says back, his smile turning into a frown, pretending to look disappointed, “And I thought Saihara-chan was more responsible!” He sighs dramatically, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I don’t know what to believe in anymore.”

Saihara looks like he really, really, wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t, choosing to look worried instead, “Ouma-kun...is something wrong?”

‘Everything.’ Ouma nearly tells Saihara, but he lets go of some of the things he’s holding just so he could place both hands on his hips, “Noooope!” He says, leaning forward as he did so.

“...Your scarf.” Saihara mutters, hand reaching for a cap that was no longer there before putting it back down. Akamatsu had managed to get him to remove it, after all. Ouma thought he looked cuter like that.

“Hm, what’s that, Saihara-chan?”

“Where’s your scarf?” Saihara asks, hands gesturing to his own neck and then at Ouma’s.

“Ah, you noticed!” Ouma says, almost touching his exposed neck once he realized he forgot to get another scarf, “Well, I was going to...get a new one!” He says a bit too late.

“But...don’t you have spares in your room? You even told me so before.”

Why Saihara was getting worked up over his scarf, he’ll never figure it out, but he shrugs, “I’m going to get an even better one!” He says.

“I...okay…” Saihara says, realizing that he won’t get much out of Ouma, “Do you need help to carry all of...this at least?” He asks, hands gesturing at everything Ouma is carrying.

Ouma wants to say yes, but he hesitates, a smile on his face once more, “Nope! I can carry this aaaaall alone. A supreme leader has to have some muscle, doesn’t he?”

Saihara doesn’t look like he believes him, but he says nothing about it, hearing something in Ouma’s voice that seemed to say ‘Not now.’

Saihara sighs, “Well, if you say so, I guess,” Saihara walks the other way, back to his dorm across the hallway, “See you at class, then, Ouma-kun.”

“See ya later, Saihara-chan!” He says, waving at the detective.

Once Saihara is out of view, he frowns again, letting out another sigh of relief he didn’t know he needed.

He picks all his stuff up again and walks back to his room, hurrying this time to ensure no one else sees him.

He arrives moments later, nearly throwing all the stuff inside and slamming the door shut. He pants as if he ran a marathon, before straightening himself and picking the mop up.

“Welp! Here we go!” He says to no one in particular, and starts to mop the corner with the most blood he can see.


“Done.” He says, sighing, leaning on the wall of his room.

The room was finally clean, the blood stains finally gone, and those stupid, stupid, flowers wrapped in plastic. The mop is a strange shade of pink from the blood and he’s pretty sure he used too much bleach, a part of the dark brown floor looking a shade lighter than the original.

He sneaks out of the room once more, cleaning the mop and keeping the rest of the supplies.

He went out of the school, stared at the plastic full of flowers and his bloody scarf, turned a lighter that he had stolen from one of the teachers on, and set the bag on fire, the fire making sizzling and crackling noises as it did its job of getting rid of the flowers, melting the stuff together.

He stayed for a few minutes, waiting for the last bit of the fire to go out before crushing whatever evidence was left with his foot. Once all was done, he left as if nothing had happened, locking his door before he was reminded again that he had no scarf. Good thing he had a spare.

He walked over to his bed, kicking his shoes off before laying down on it and groaning. He coughed again, but luckily there were no flowers. Had there been more, this certainly would have been a much longer day.

After he stopped coughing, he glared at the ceiling for no reason, hand reaching out for it while the other was behind his head.

Months. He’s been doing this stupid routine for months. He wonders just how much time he has left, and if Saihara would ever return these feelings he had

He would have gone as far as to say that he didn’t care, but every golden flower that fell from his mouth, and the vines that curled around his lungs, would tell the truth for him, would tell the whole world the truth for him, would tell Saihara the truth for him.

Ouma grimaces. He stops laughing, and he suddenly feels...loneliness. D.I.C.E would be there for him, yes, but would he be there for them? Would he live long enough to tell them about this? Would they care? Would they do anything about this? What if-

‘No, no, no. Shut up. ShUT UP.’ Ouma tells himself, biting his lip in anger as he shook.

He wraps himself with his blanket, turns to a corner, and lets a small sigh mixed with a sob out.

1. Chapter 1 2051 1 0 2. Chapter 2 2013 1 0 3. Chapter 3 2302 2 0 4. Chapter 4 2456 1 0 5. Chapter 5 3063 1 0 6. Chapter 6 2527 1 0 7. Chapter 7 2547 1 0 8. Chapter 8 3980 1 0 9. Chapter 9 2451 1 0 10. Chapter 10 6503 1 0 11. Chapter 11 4210 1 0 12. Chapter 12 3056 2 0