A/n: Forgot how shitty is. Don't read if you don't like spoilers or if you don't like mildly explicit sexual content.

Maki knows stars in her own eyes when she sees them, and she hates them. She hates them more than anything.

"But it's a good thing!" Kaito would argue, probably about to go on some sort of tangent on just how great stars are, "If you can't see the stars too close, you might as well make do with what you got, right?"

At that moment, she would stop trying to blink the stars away. It was as if her eyes weren't created for the sole purpose of meeting his, as if her lungs weren't created just so she could forget how to breathe every time he smiled at her, as if love is so much better than the lover.

And there he'd be, waiting for her to say something — waiting for her to indulge him, waiting for her to finally break past her barriers to show him that she's so much more than what she believes herself to be.

But she has no enemy greater than herself, so she can't believe it. She doesn't deserve to. So, at that moment, she'd grace him with a few choice words:

"Don't be stupid."

It's on nights like this when she remembers, she wonders if she'd be better off dead.

Her hair tickles her bare shoulders and sticks to her skin. It's uncomfortable but she can't bring herself to fix it.

There's a familiar wetness that settles between her legs, one she usually tries to ignore but to no avail. Crescent moons form from where her nails themselves into her palms. These pangs of pain feel hot but between her legs is ablaze. The back of her head smacks into her pillow and she seizes a handful of her sheets.

This feeling — this memory, it almost feels like a death sentence, as if she was standing at her podium in the trial room one more time. Kind of like if she, instead of Monokuma, was the one playing god.

In a way, she has been playing god, in the way that, if she thinks hard enough, she can remember being 11 years old once again, pointing a pistol to the forehead of the grown man in front of her - her first victim. But her past involves thinking. It's the now that seems to have seared its way underneath her eyelids in the way that, if she closes her eyes for long enough, she can still see the way blood seemed to fan out around HIS dead body like some sort of sick, crimson halo.

It's all as if her love for him is more of a killer than she is.

(But that isn't true).

She's always been too in-tune with her body for too long to not be able to hear the messages it sends her, as subtle as they might be. Right now, she's dizzy, and the world feels like it's spinning in circles as if she were the planets and he was the sun. She can't tell if all the blood had left her head or rushed to it.

And she thinks of things that she shouldn't.

She freezes as she feels him lean down, only barely catching a glance of the lopsided grin on his lips when he whispers into her ear, "Hey, you ready?"

And she's nodding to the man of her dreams.

She can imagine him already, a cocky smile on his face for being able to get her this messed up.

And he knows what he's doing to her because he's looking at her like that - all starry-eyed and wild with that absolutely infuriating grin on his face.

He's brushing her hair out of her eyes with gentle fingers even while his other hand is pounding away at her, causing her to want to thrash and moan and call his name like that's all she could ever do, because of course, only he could get her like this, all red and shaking and raw and Jesus Christ this is embarrassing—

But before she can stop, he's there, eyes soft and worried and full of the love that she doesn't deserve.

"Hey," he says, his warm hand cupping the side of her face, sensing her discomfort, "relax."

And of course she does. Because his touch is far too stifling for someone with a heart as cold as hers. All the same, she can't help but lean into the touch.

She can already imagine him, his messy hair even messier than it usually was, his eyes wild but still retaining the same kindness that they always had. And he'd be smiling that stupidly STUPID smile again, unbothered, as if everything isn't as fucked up as it is.

Because even with her hair sprawled out underneath her and her legs shaking in a way that made her ashamed to even be able to feel, he'd still look at her like she's the most important thing in the world.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, because of course he would, soft voice husky but shaking, betraying his nerves even though the fingers in between her legs refused to falter, "this is a good look on you,"

And she doesn't believe it, she can't believe it. After all the shit she's been through - all the shit she's done, she doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve to have this. She doesn't deserve him at all-

But those purple eyes look up at her, full of love and, for once, she can't tell him to shut up - not just because she's choking on her own breaths, but because, when he's looking at her with those starry eyes, it's really fucking hard to not get lost in them.

Its times like this understands why he has always been so obsessed with the night sky, because, as the ultimate astronaut, or "Luminary of the Stars" as he called it (and she refused to call him), she knows how easy it could be for him to get lost in it.

"Hey, Harumaki, there's a shooting star," Kaito shifted from his place on the ground, eyes shining as he looked up at her, "make a wish."

She remembers that day. The courtyard was empty, and the sky was an inky black, the bright stars scattered across it as if the sky was a canvas and Angie had gone a little trigger-happy with the white paint.

(Part of her wants to ignore that silly little metaphor that popped into her mind because Angie was dead and gone and wouldn't be able to paint ever again)

It was after the third trial. She couldn't sleep and ended up running into that purple-haired moron in the courtyard. Shuichi was nowhere in sight.

He was laying on his back in the middle of the courtyard, the place where they usually trained, with his hand outstretched towards the abyss above them, as if he could reach out and take one of those little balls of gas for himself and call it a day. Knowing him, he'd probably find a way to do it eventually. Maybe he'd even turn that little star into a keychain.

But no, they weren't close enough. They were still stuck in that piece of shit school where Team Danganronpa was forcing them to kill each other. They didn't have time for stupid stuff like that. She shouldn't have even been there. She should've just gotten up and walked away before he could've continued talking and make her feel like she was actually worth something.

But she stayed anyway, sitting beside him with her knees drawn close to her chest, not really understanding why those little balls of light were so special to him.

"Don't be stupid," she said as she watched him from the corner of her eye, seeing awe and wonder dance across his face like the ocean waves that the moon controls, "wishes never work."

He dropped his arm, having grown tired of tracing the constellations whose names Maki never bothered learning. Instead, he looked at her as if he was personally offended.

"Hey!" He whined, sitting up, not even acknowledging the grass stains that littered the back of his white shirt, "what'd they ever do to you?"

"That's the point," she scoffed, and she still wasn't looking at him straight, instead nudging a stray pebble by her foot with one of her fingers, "they've done nothing."

That stopped him for a moment. Though his eyes never faltered from their view on the sky, they dimmed a bit, as if the knowledge that wishes didn't come true wasn't something that had ever occurred to him.

…Well, it IS Kaito that she's speaking to. The guy probably didn't have one practical bone in his body.

"You can't move forward in life if you keep looking back at the past!" Just ask quickly as he had sunk in on himself, he quickly perked back up, "You just gotta believe in it, Harumaki."

"Don't call me that." She still wasn't used to the whole "nickname" thing. Sure, it wasn't entirely unpleasant, but she'd be damned if she ever admitted that to anyone - especially to the purple-haired idiot in front of her.

"So, make a wish!" Oh, so he was ignoring her now? She looked up in full and she was immediately assaulted with the Kaito equivalent of puppy eyes. At this moment, she'd really wished that Shuichi was here so he could provide some sort of distraction - literally anything just so those purple eyes stopped threatening to pull her back in.

She really didn't understand why he was so adamant about this. Sure, he had mentioned helping her "defeat her own enemy" (a.k.a her) earlier, but she didn't think that he'd actually meant it, or that he'd try to go about it in a way as odd as this.

When she didn't answer him, Kaito took it upon himself to get a rise out of her, "Maybe you can think of it as training!"

…Training?

She only stared at him, watching him fidget in place until she finally graced him with a response.

"Training for what?"

He thought for a second, brow furrowed and nose scrunched up in a way that shouldn't have been as cute as it was, and then he popped up with a 'got it!'

"Putting your faith into the unknown!"

For a second, he nearly seemed proud of himself, but when he caught her blank stare, he shrunk in on himself a little bit, "What?"

"'Putting your faith into the unknown?'" She questioned, drawing her knees closer to her chest, "I thought you, of all people, was scared of the unknown."

"What?" The betrayal of voice made it sound like she had done more than just say a few words, "I'm Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars! It's not manly to be scared of the unknown, so I'm not-"

"You're literally terrified of ghosts, Momota."

His entire face seemed to go white at that comment, nearly rivaling the color of his shirt (minus the grass stains). It was weird (but strangely endearing) to see how quickly he could go from being complexity confident to looking like he was about to cry.

"Okay, fine! Putting your faith into the unknown besides ghosts because, no, I don't mess with that shit."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but feel guilty when she thinks back to earlier, when they had found Tenko's body after the seance but, instead of being sad and horrified, she was more focused on the feeling of the fearful Kaito's arms wrapped around her - far too warm and gone far too quickly.

Is that how Himiko felt when they found Tenko's body? Was that what those tears were about? Having someone you cared about snatched away far too soon?

Is that how Shuichi felt when Kaede was ripped away from them? When he so desperately tried to save her but it only ended up with her crushed, exsanguinated body?

She thought of Kaede. Sweet, optimistic, gone far too soon Kaede, the one who desperately tried to save them all.

She thought of Rantaro, Kirumi, Ryoma, the serious ones, but the ones who, by God, deserved so much better than what they had when they were alive.

She thinks of Tenko, Angie, and Korekiyo, all three of whom hadn't even been dead for a full 24 hours. There was Tenko, the overly energetic man-hater who wore her emotions on her sleeve. There was Angie, who was a little odd towards the end, but at least she brought color to their dreary little group. And there was Korekiyo, a guy who she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get a firm understanding of (but she knows what he went through; she's seen the aftereffects of 'it' far too many times at the orphanage for her not to sympathize. As odd as he was, he deserved better. He deserved to live a life of his own).

She'll miss them.

But she won't miss them more than Kaito's warmth.

She really is that selfish.

Kaito seemed to have noticed her saddened demeanor, because he keeps on rambling, saying things that didn't make sense and things that she didn't really care about.

(But she appreciated it anyway)

It's when he starts talking about himself that she really starts listening, thankful that, for one of the first times that night, the attention wasn't on her.

"I wish that someday when I get to be up there with the stars, everyone here will be able to watch," His eyes had moved away from her own, and instead were trained on the sky once again, those purple eyes of his filled with an emotion other than the awe reflected in them earlier, "and when I come back and the press decides to interview me, I'll be able to pull you and Shuichi on stage."

She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, almost as if the ghosts they had been talking about mere minutes ago were holding her head in place to personally spite her for talking shit. Maybe its the mention of her, maybe it's the way his eyes shone, and maybe, just maybe, it's because she didn't want to look away.

"After all, I wouldn't have been able to do it without my trusty sidekicks!"

It's then that she makes herself to stop thinking about all that she's lost, because, when you're with Kaito, it's kind of hard not to focus on the stupidly STUPID optimistic crap he's spewing. She rolled her eyes at his optimism, but she couldn't fight the way her lips quirked upward.

"Is that a smile, Harumaki?"

She jumped back when his face was suddenly much, much, closer to hers.

As quickly as it had come, her smile dropped, and instead, she crossed her arms in front of her bent knees, glaring at him as he scooted backward, laughing to himself.

"Do you want to die?" She threatened half-heartedly, and the reaction is immediate.

"Only if it'll make you smile!" He said it quieter at first, but then his voice warms to affection, then to fondness, and then to something painful and wonderful that she recognizes but can't name, "Y'know, that'll make all of this worth it."

She gave him one of her looks again, and she tugged her knees tighter to her chest, trying to find a way to hide how fast her heart was beating.

She doesn't respond in words, but Kaito gets it. He looked up to the stars, once again the awe of the universe dawning over him. Maki looked up as well for no other reason than because he was doing it.

"After all, the impossible is possible! All you need to do is make it so!"

She knew it was coming, and she whispered it along with him, just loud enough for him to hear it, and this time the smile he gives her might just be worth how stupid this all was.

It's then she realized that the emotion in his eyes and smile was nothing more than one of pure hope - hope for tomorrow, hope for a future that will soon come: a future with the remaining eight of them in it.

(In the end, she wishes that they can get out of this mess and maybe, just maybe, that smile will continue to be just for her).

...She isn't smiling. She doesn't think she could ever smile again.

She couldn't even do it for him back then, that stupid little request of his. She couldn't even fucking send him off with a smile because she was too selfish. Way too fucking selfish. She didn't even think about how he felt.

(But she knows - she knows she thought far too hard about how he was feeling, and she knew that it would break both of them even more if she sent him off with a lie of a smile)

...Her wish didn't come true.

Because the same starry night sky that he loved so much was probably the last thing he ever got to see.

He never got to see her smile for that last time, even though he asked and he wanted it and he had that look in his eyes that was the same as when he looked up at the stars - a look that was full of longing and HOPE.

(Even though she survived, she knows that a little part of her died alongside Kaito that day).

She sobs into her fist because this isn't fair; she has these fantasies where he loves her and kisses her and does things to her. And she wasn't even supposed to let him get this close to her in the first place.

If only she hadn't gotten involved, then maybe none of this would have happened and he would still be alive instead of cold, dead, and gone.

She opened her eyes, her senses returning back to her empty room. Her aching fingers are wet and she feels the bitterness in the back of her throat because she still thinks of him when she shouldn't be. She can't restrain herself, because he was just so pretty and so happy and he had smiled at her like she was his whole world even though she didn't deserve to be.

She can't let the fantasy get to her again. Not here, not now, not ever. She chokes in another breath, and once again she's cold.

But she's still gripping her sheets between shaky fingers, trying her best to imagine what it would feel like if he were there: if the cotton sheets were actually his soft hair clenched between her fingers as she came more and more undone.

Her hips jolt forward, and she whines, biting down on the fingers in her mouth when she hit that spot that she knew that, with those long fingers of his, he would hit so much better.

She hates how easy she loses control in situations like this because she's closing her eyes again and suddenly he's there, running a hand through her hair as she shook. She looks up at him, unable to chide him through the whine that escapes from her throat.

Of course, he's an idiot who would be having fun seeing her gasp like this, who would enjoy her pleasure as his own.

On any other day, she could probably hook a leg underneath his and flip him over, letting her be on top and pay him back for all the things that he's doing to her.

After all that he's done for her, it's only fair.

But once again she's selfish and doesn't want to. She wants to feel him more than ever.

"Hey, you'll get hurt doing that," he takes her hand away from her mouth, interlocking his fingers with hers and pressing it against the mattress. "Besides, I like hearing you."

Once again he cares more about her than himself.

She'd look up at him then, her chest heaving breathlessly, and maybe, just maybe, she'd give in to his desires.

(But she doesn't want to)

He'd smile at her, probably enjoying how much of a mess she looked like a bit too much (earning a weak slap when he ogled her for a few seconds too long), before he's suddenly not above her anymore.

He stops and shifts and then she hears the sound of a zipper, and she looks over, seeing his star-patterned boxers because of course he would wear something as stupid as that.

"Like the view?" He grins when he catches her staring, hands on his hips, as if he didn't have an obvious tent at the front of his boxers, "got them with you in mind."

"Shooting stars?" She'd roll her eyes, still a little out of breath. "Really?"

"They're lucky, you know."

She's thinks about the wish she made, and thinks about how everything's gone to shit.

(""You can't move forward in life if you keep looking back at the past!")

"...I know."

And then the fantasy kicks back in. He's kissing her face, and her cheek, and her mouth, and her chin, and her jaw, and her neck, and her collarbone, and her bare chest, peppering kissed like stars across her pale skin. Her skirt is gone and they're both naked and she can't believe that they're actually doing this.

Kaito's warm. Far too warm. But when he wraps his arms around her, she feels her entire world freeze - feeling far too much but not enough at the same time, like she did when they found Tenko's body that day.

She can't take it.

"You're beautiful," he says again, and this time it's nearly the end for her, because he has her face cupped in his hands and oh fuck - the snap of his hips is just too much.

She thinks about him. She thinks about the chaste kisses that he presses over her neck, thinks of his weight pressed flush against her, his spent smile, and god, she wishes she could just forget.

He's using one finger to pull her in to kiss her again, lips parted, eyes closed, the taste of cinnamon and toothpaste lingering for a second too long before he needed to break away.

Maki wants to cry because she missed it, the way he smelled, the way he smiled at her whenever he knew she needed it, the way he didn't mind cheering her and Shuichi up, the way he was like he is now in these fantasies, where he's still here and alive and warm and so Kaito that—

Her heart is drumming loud enough in her ears to drown out anything and everything else. Her bangs plaster against her forehead, the sheets cling to her sweaty back, her breath rushes out of her chest, and—

She smiles.

His eyes never leave her face, and when he catches the way her lips quirk upward, he smiles back, lacing his fingers through hers and bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it.

"I love you."

It's then that she opens her eyes, and she swears that she heard those words for real. She doesn't know who says it, but for a second, she could've sworn that it was his voice.

But no, Kaito is still dead and gone and even though he had always been so warm he's now cold and dead and thrown away somewhere and she can't fucking take it.

There she goes again. Wishing for the could have been instead of accepting the was— the is. If only she had stayed at the orphanage, then sure, maybe they wouldn't have met, but maybe, just maybe, he'd still be alive and everything wouldn't be as fucked up as it is.

The knuckles she had pressed to her lips can't replace the feeling- his warmth. and she sobs, letting her pain mix in with her ecstasy as her body convulses, once, twice, not enough as she feels far too much and nothing at all.

She's cold. So, so cold.

His hair doesn't brush against her legs and his lips don't whisper sweet nothings against her neck. His smile that lit up the world as she knew it wasn't there.

She wakes up to the feeling of wet sheets, shaky legs, and the memory of his smile etched beneath her eyelids.

But everything's still the same.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review because I worked hard on this and I need motivation!