The vast halls of the academy had never felt so confining. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, their flickering rhythm oddly disjointed—much like everything else lately. Kokichi’s voice echoed from somewhere nearby, clawing at your attention, pulling you from your wandering thoughts.

"You know," he started, his voice breaking through the oppressive silence, "for someone as clever as you, you’re not very good at hiding how miserable you are."

You flinched, caught off guard by his bluntness. He leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed as if this were just another one of his games. But his eyes told a different story, and you wondered if he wasn’t monitoring you as closely as the cameras that lined the walls.

"You look half-dead half the time," he added, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. "And don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring off into space like some kind of broken robot. Honestly, I should be the one falling apart here, but you’re making me look bad."

You didn’t answer right away. How could you, when every word he spoke felt like a thread pulling tighter around a knot in your chest? Kokichi was still Kokichi—the mischievous, infuriating friend you once knew—but something had shifted. There was a distance between you now, a chasm neither of you seemed willing to name, much less bridge.

Kokichi’s eyes softened just a fraction, the usual smirk giving way to something fleeting but real. He uncrossed his arms and took a small step forward, the air between you crackling with an unspoken understanding.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant, "don’t let this place get to you, okay? You know you're better than this... and, well, you’re still my friend, no matter what."

The words hung in the space between you, heavy and delicate, a rare moment where the mask slipped just enough for you to see a sliver of what lay beneath.

And for a moment, just a moment, you almost believed him.