"Go out with me."
"What?"
That was the conversation had between one Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky student and Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Model, early one Friday morning. What had been loud and pleasant chatter in classroom 1-A had quickly died down to shocked whispers as the short boy stared blankly in confusion.
"Junko! Don't tease the poor boy like that," Sayaka lectured, cutting through the awkward tension.
"Indeed," added Celeste. "It would be a rather cruel joke to play, especially on someone as naïve as Makoto." She giggled, covered her mouth with her hands, her posture deceptively relaxed, only her eyes laser-focused on the model.
Junko could be cruel. The class had quickly come to learn that, after being together for the better part of the year. She hadn't caused any permanent injury or irreparable damage, as far as they could tell, but she'd come close. She'd come close many times. And Makoto, with his carefree attitude and heart of gold pissed her off more than anything. Honestly, they were more surprised at exactly how predictable her next target had been, rather than whatever plan she'd decided to cook up next.
"I'm, uh, going to have to turn you down Junko," stammered the unfortunate victim. "You're beautiful and um, really interesting, but I don't think we'd really work well together." The boy pieced his words together carefully, looking every bit as if he stood on the edge of a precipice. Dull green eyes flickered up and down nervously, never retaining eye contact for more than a second or two.
"Aww, come on Maki-boy! Just for a couple of days? Please?" Her voice dripped like honey and Makoto shrunk, cheeks colouring. Abruptly, she changed her posture, leaning in close and a new, harder smile wove its way onto her face.
"Hey, hey, make sure you're taking me seriously. This isn't a joke or anything like that. I'm being honest here. I want you to go out with me. You should think about your answer very carefully." The last line was directed almost like a threat.
"Hey wait, for real?" Leon exclaimed. "I mean, we all know Junko's a bitch, but she's seriously hot. You sure you're going to pass this up dude?" He quirked an eyebrow at the helpless looking lucky student, his mouth quickly twisting into a mischievous grin. "If you don't want her, I'll be more than happy to take a shot." Junko made a face, while Leon snickered to himself. Upon received one no-less-than-murderous glance from one Sayaka Maizono however, and it soon devolved into quiet coughing.
"Uh, well…" Makoto broke into a cold sweat. Honestly, he was pretty much willing to give anyone a go at proving themselves to be a good person, and Junko was no exception. Really, this was a great opportunity to know her better. But dating? With Junko? He wasn't going to lie, for some reason she scared him absolutely shitless. Was he broken? He felt perfectly safe around Mukuro, the Ultimate Solider for goodness sake, why was it Junko that scared him so bad? This was a bad idea, he should trust his gut, just say no, Makoto, just say no-
"Time's up!" Junko announced gleefully.
"Huh?" Makoto responded intelligently.
"You took too long to answer! Therefore, you owe me a date tomorrow night! Antonio's, 7pm sharp, no need to pick me up, I'll meet you there." She laughed, twirling one of her massive pigtails between her fingers.
"Junko I don't-" Makoto started.
"By the way," she interrupted. "How's the paint job going? Your dad is painting the outside of your house himself, right? Tell him I said hi, and that he should be careful. Ladders can be terribly rickety after all~" she sang.
Was…w-was she, was she threatening him? Probably not? Makoto didn't like that there was a question mark next to that statement. But really, the chance that it was a threat…models didn't go around threatening people! But this was Junko. And that sharp glimmer in her eyes certainly gave him pause. He didn't have a choice anymore he supposed. Though out of everything that could have happened being forced on a date with a supermodel really wasn't the worst thing. Right?
The Next Day
Makoto stood awkwardly, twisting and posing in front of the full length mirror present in his room before letting out a heavy sigh. He attempted to flatten the strand of hair that never sat flat for the twentieth time in an hour before letting it bounce back, defeat crossing his face. He took a step forward and rested his forehead on the cold surface, hoping that it would shock him back to reality. One where he wasn't going on a date with a possibly murderous supermodel.
"Oh, what's this now? Is my little brother going on a date?" His sister's voice threaded its way into the room, laden with a dozen knowing looks.
"I am not that small!" Makoto huffed, spinning to face the doorway, where she leaned casually against the white woodwork, a smirk fixed firmly upon her face. "And as your older brother, I would like a little more respect."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, short stuff. Sooo, who's the lucky gal?" she sauntered into the room, and gave him a friendly nudge.
"A psychopath." Makoto muttered grumpily.
"What?" Komaru froze, confused.
"Nothing," Makoto sighed. "Just a classmate."
"O-Okay. So, who's the lucky classmate?" she recovered, the question accompanied by a smirk only ever seen in the presence of the most terrible puns.
"Nobody speci- Wait, did you just?!" He turned to her, exasperated. "You're not helping!"
Komaru tried desperately to hold in a smile and failed, chuckles rolling from her tongue as she covered her mouth in mock apology. After Makoto stared pointedly for a minute, she coughed into her hand, and straightened. "Now, little brother-"
"I am not-"
"-There's no such thing as nobody in your class. Now spill, it'll be all over the blogs by morning anyway, so you know." She smiled sweetly. "Might as well tell me now."
"They'll what?" Makoto exclaimed in horror, his cheeks quickly reddening.
"Ah…" Komaru realised her mistake and backtracked. "I mean, they're not all that famous. I mean, who follows an author's daily life, or a detective's or even a gambler's! As long as it's not anyone really in the public spotlight."
"I'm screwed." Makoto realised. Was this Junko's real plan? Was she going to corner him and embarrass him in front of dozens of journalists and bloggers? Some lucky student he was, in fact he wouldn't put it past himself to do all the work. All he needed was his usual luck and he'd end up tripping and falling on a random stranger's table. He groaned aloud as Komaru looked on, concerned.
"Um, are you okay, Makoto? You don't look very excited. They can't be that bad, surely?"
It was then that in his self-pity, Makoto happened to glance at the wristwatch he had fetched from the back of his closet and paled even farther.
"I'm going to be late!" he gasped. "I'm meeting Junko in ten minutes!" He snagged a forest green jacket (barely worn) and shrugged it over his white polo shirt and made a grab for his phone.
"Hang on, Junko? Juno Enoshima? The supermodel?! Makoto how on earth-"
"See you later Komaru!" He yelled as he dashed past. After a moment of hesitation, he turned back. "Pray for me," he added.
Komaru was left standing with one hand held up in a gesture of confused farewell.
Junko stood in front of the restaurant, foot tapping impatiently. A small smirk graced her lips as she spotted a small head of messy brown hair darting among the crowd on the street. The chances that this date would actually provide anything of interest was low, she knew. Makoto was the culmination of average. He liked popular shows, popular food, popular activities; talked about what everyone talked about and dressed in rather normal clothes. Honestly, when she first met him, she doubted he even had a personality of his own. And that impression remained in place until about halfway through the year.
"Makoto~!" she called, putting on her best cutesy voice. A dozen people turned towards her voice, some losing interest immediately, but most remaining in place, entranced by her beauty. Some part of her preened, but the majority sighed. So predictable. So boring.
"S-Sorry I'm late!" He blurted, staggering the last couple of steps, breathing heavily.
Red faced. Sweating. Jacket overarm rather than underarm or being worn. Stain on the left knee. New scuffing on the tips of his shoes. Approached from the north instead of the west.
"Seriously?" I wiped my face of my previous personality and shot him my blankest stare, enjoying him worry and frown in fear. I examined my perfectly manicured nails, my eyes catching on a recently applied piece in the shape of a four leaf clover. Everything is relevant, always, after all. "Oh well!" I chirped suddenly, taking a step forward and gently tapping him on the nose. "Don't miss the bus next time, silly. Really though, I can't believe you ran the whole way here. What's that, like seven blocks. No wonder you were late." I giggled in what I felt was the most mocking way possible. It worked, as the small lucky student's ears turned bright red and he fidgeted in embarrassment.
"Anyway, it's not like they're going to cancel our reservation. It's not often they get to host a model of my calibre after all." I add absent-mindedly.
"U-Um…" stammered Makoto. "I, uh, I'm sorry."
"Oh?" I smirked. "What for?"
"I didn't bring you anything. I probably should have brought you some flowers or something. And then I was late; so sorry is all I want to say."
"Oh please," I wave dismissively, pulling out a pair of glasses and flick them open. "Really, child. What kind of idiot brings flowers to a date he was threatened into attending?"
"I, what?" his eyes widened as his mind struggled to assess the situation. "So wait, that really was-?"
"Too slow!" I rolled my eyes. "Come on, I'm bored!" I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was smooth and cool, his fingers slender for his gender. Pulling him forward and skipping towards the restaurant entrance, I risk a quick glance back. Expecting confusion, anger, or something similar, I find something incredible. A look of contemplation, or perhaps determination settled across the formal timid boy's features. That's not right, that's not the reaction he's supposed to have, the analytics scream. I grin in delight and readjust my opinion yet again.
Makoto stumbles through his front door, dishevelled and dazed at ten o'clock at night. He winces at the slam the door makes as the wind sucks it closed behind him and begins to shrug off his jacket, now smelling like fish and dropping it in the laundry as he saunters past. Walking past his sister's Komaru's room on the way to his own he find himself stopped by a tug on his arm and turns to find concerned, almost golden eyes staring at him.
"That bad?" she whispers.
"…" Makoto just stares at her, his stare speaking of a thousand horrors; slowly, she lets go, watching him shamble lifelessly into his room, door closing quietly behind him.
A/N This is technically a prequel to my other story Hope & Despair; however, it doesn't need the other story to be a pretty much independent fanfic. One more chapter in this one, and then I'll slowly start uploading my third, and possibly final fic.