THIS IS SUPER LONG I'M SORRY I TRIED T_T
No regrets tho lol.
We're nearing the end, people! Only 3 chapters left after this one ;)
And thank you, atemthepharaoh7 and Hiro56, your reviews are much appreciated ;) Glad you love lovesick!Ryoji, dude just had it so bad lmao
XXI: At World's End
World: Fulfillment, Harmony, Completion
Reversed World: Incompletion, No Closure, Emptiness
Yukari wakes up sour all over.
She doesn't even remember why, but her body is aching like crazy as if she's been beaten up by forces unknown or something. She groans and gets up, hand slapping the alarm clock hard. She rubs at her eyes and staggers to the closet, picking up her clothes and grabbing her shower items before heading out towards the bathroom, yawning, her legs arching, her fingers numb.
She spies Kirijou talking with Sanada and – who the heck is that? – in the lounge and just shuffles out of their lines of sights; they're always so intense it actually scares her sometimes. She doesn't want to be under their gazes, thank you.
Before she reaches the shower, she crosses path with one of the Dorm's most reclusive resident; Yuuki. It's weird to see him down here this early, but she just shrugs—she doesn't care about other's schedules that much, anyways.
He gives her a strange look as he nods slightly, acknowledging her with a whisper. "Morning."
"Morning," She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes again. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep last night," He replies softly. Huh, she doesn't even know he could talk longer than a few words. He then, much to her surprise, adds, his face as passive as ever. "Are you alright?"
"Nope. I'm hurt all over, and I don't even know why," She grumbles, shuffling slowly pass him. "Gotta shower now, or I'm going to miss archery. See you."
"Okay," He says, bowing his head slightly at her again as he walks up the steps and out of sight.
Her eyes follow him a while longer. A tiny voice in her head says something's not right.
It's like she has forgotten something important.
She just shrugs; she's got no time to waste.
She, surprisingly, sees Yuuki again on the monorail.
He's leaning against the glass pane, hands in his pockets, his school bag tugged under his arm. He's wearing the headphones, and she could hear faintly the song that's unknown to her, yet oddly familiar, as if she's heard it thousands of times before.
His eyes are looking out the door, to the shimmering ocean, his face calm. But she thinks something's off with his expression. What, though? She couldn't really tell.
None of her friends is in this car, sadly, so she just decides to walk over to him. Among the residents, she's close with only Fuuka and Junpei. Yuuki, on the other hand, is a total stranger. He's reserved, he's flat and almost apathetic, so it's hard to get any conversation going with him. But, since they're going to be sharing the Dorm for the next year, she figures talking to him now would be as good a time as any.
"You're early," She says as she stands beside him.
It takes him so long that she thought he hasn't heard that phrase, and is about to repeat herself when he says quietly. "Yeah."
"Club activities?" She asks.
He turns to look at her, his eyes unreadable, but they are strangely soft. He just shrugs a little. "No. But I figure… I might take care of the garden a little."
"…Didn't know you're the flowery type," She says, surprise. He doesn't strike her as the type to do, well, anything, except studying and sleeping.
"Someone taught me to be," He hums, with a subtle quirk of his lips. He then looks away and out the window again. "She also taught me their meanings."
"She?"
"Mhm," He hums softly, expression forlorn, as if remembering a bittersweet memory. "She's… well, she's someone I love dearly."
Now this is new. "Oh… so, like, your girlfriend?"
There's a pause, and he chews his lips a little. In the end, he lets out a puff of laughter. "I think… we're more than just that."
"Aww, that's so sweet!" She coos, giggling slightly, elbow nudging his ribs. "When will I get to meet this she of yours?"
He remains quiet for a moment before whispering, his voice soft and… pained. "I dunno."
"Uh… I'm sorry, if I brought up something—"
"It's alright," He says, lifting up a hand. To make a point, he shrugs a shoulder. "It's not that something bad has happened. I just don't know when she'll…"
"Return?"
"Kind of, yes," He nods.
"Tell me when she does," She says, bouncing on her feet slightly. Talking to him feels pretty nice, if she's to be honest. Maybe she should strike up a few conversations with him later. "I want to meet her."
He smiles. "I will."
She finds him on the rooftop that afternoon.
The cafeteria is crowded as hell, and she doesn't want to deal with Tomochika and Junpei's bullshit today, too exhausted and too hurt. So she figures, maybe, the roof would be unoccupied, and she could eat her lunch (which is starting to cool down, damnit) in peace up there.
They look at each other for a few minutes before Yuuki just shrugs. He turns back to the bento in his hands and continues to eat. She then notices him wearing gloves, even when the weather is no longer biting and freezing. She just ignores it.
"…May I join you?" She says as she closes the door. The spring wind feels pretty nice, and there are enough space for the both of them.
He doesn't turn to look, but nods, scooting to the edge of the bench — even though she could've just taken the other vacant stone seat — and pats the space there lightly, as if to invite her.
She takes it, walking over and sitting down with a distance between them, leaving both their personal spaces untouched. He doesn't start the conversation with her, and it doesn't seem like he will anytime soon, so she just leaves him be as she eats in peace, the only sounds to ever reach her ears the rustling of leaves and the whistling of the wind.
Halfway through her meal, she decides to break the silence, comfortable as it is. "Why are you up here, Yuuki-kun?"
He seems to contemplate her words a little as he takes another careful bite. "The wind feels nice."
"Same," She hums, taking a sip from her bottle. "Where did you get that bento?"
He blinks, looking down. It takes him a while. "Uh… I cooked it?"
"You what?" She exclaims as she scoots closer to take a peak. The meal is simple enough, but it smells really, really good. "It smells nice. Looks nice, too! I didn't know you have a knack for this kinda thing!"
He shrugs. Then, he turns to look at her fully, the bento thrusted in her direction. "Want to try?"
"Sure!" She beams. It's surprising to see him being so open and so considerate, since she's known him to be some of the worst at social interactions. She takes the spare chopsticks he offers and picks out a piece of delicious-looking grilled salmon then bites at it. She hums. "Mm! Taste good!"
"Glad you like it," He hums. His expression is still a bit hard to read, but he seems amused.
"So," She says after pausing to chew on a miniature onigiri in his bento, her own completely forgotten. When he turns to her, she continues. "The garden?"
He just nods behind her. She turns around to see a small, neatly hidden garden right beside the door to the roof. Much to her surprise, most of the flowers are white and pink, sprinkled with a bit of blue. Yuuki, also to her surprise, says, "Someone put that there. Barely get any watering, so I guess why not."
"…Huh, I didn't know our school have something like this," She hums. "It's beautiful."
"Yeah."
They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting there, with her stealing from his box, and him enabling her.
It feels nice. It feels like—
—Home.
Who the heck is that?
"Who's that?" She asks Junpei, eyeing the imposing man she saw talking with their seniors just this morning, his dark red overcoat covering down to his knees. But despite his intimidating posture and a face with a constant scowl, he's smiling, at Yuuki, no less!
"Huh? Oh, you mean Aragaki-senpai?" Junpei says, crossing his arms slightly. "He moved here during late August, remember? He's friends with Sanada-senpai and Kirijou-senpai."
"Oh," Is all she manages to say as she watches the two of them — who she just knows are probably one of the most socially inept people in Port Island — talking and smiling together. "They look pretty close."
"Surprised me, too," Junpei says. "Don't even know when they got close. Don't even know they are close, man. Kinda surprising, huh?"
"Yeah."
She watches them a while longer, with the older boy's smile full of fondness and sorrow, deep within the kind light. Yuuki's smile is also strange; not only does he rarely smile, but his eyes don't match it at all. It's full of both happiness and regrets, of joy and fear, of things untold.
She tears her eyes away and walks back to her room, dropping her bag onto the bed and flopping down, face buried into the pillow. The day has been normal so far, but she feels weird. It's like she should have known something, like she's forgotten someone important, someone so incredibly dear. It's like a part of her is missing, her heart hollow, her soul incomplete.
She sighs and rolls around. She tries to think, she really does, but nothing comes to mind. It's all fuzzy and foggy, at best. Shaking her head, she gets up and starts undoing her bowtie—
…When did she buy a hairpin like that?
She reaches for it, fingers tracing along the cool metal, along the black pin, along the imitation of the wisteria. She tilts her head slightly, still not quite sure where she got it. Kyoto, maybe, but she's sure she isn't the one who pick it up herself.
But, for some reason, it feels… like it belongs here. She hums, trying it on, tugging the pin above her left ear. And, strangely enough, it feels like she's worn it there many times before, warm fingers brushing her hair away and touching her ear lightly as—
—Whose fingers? Her own?
She frowns. She couldn't recall whose touch it was, or rather, she couldn't recall anything relating to this wisteria pin at all. But looking at it fills her with joy, and with love. So she just leaves it there in her hair and changes into her private attire before heading back down.
Again, she meets Yuuki on the lounge of the second floor, gray eyes looking at the vending machine contemplatively, hands tugged inside the pockets of his brown winter coat. He turns her way and offers her a small bow before freezing, his eyes widening slightly. She just tilts her head as she walks over.
"What?" She asks, making him blink.
His eyes aren't on her face, but next to it. It takes her a moment to realize that he's looking at the hairpin. She waits for a little while, and then he murmurs. "That pin…"
"Huh? Oh!" She exclaims, finger tracing the wisteria shaped steel lightly. "I found it. Looks like someone bought it for me a while ago. It's beautiful."
He just blinks a few times before his lips turn slightly upward into a small, genuine smile she rarely ever sees. He then hums lightly. "It is."
"What're you getting?" She asks, nodding towards the machine Yuuki seems to have already forgotten.
"…Black Coffee," He says. "I usually brew one—"
"You can brew?"
"…Shinjirou-senpai taught me," He says, an amused smile on his lips, as his eyes scan the content of the machine again. "…But the machine broke. He's out buying a new one right now."
"I'd recommend BOSS no-sugar black," She says, pointing at the one. His eyes follow. "I don't usually do coffee, but my dad loved this one."
"I see," He says, his voice so soft and so kind. He presses the button and bends down to pick up the can. He quickly uncaps it and takes a sip, a delighted hum escaping his lips. "Mm. This is good."
"Men and coffee," She says, shaking her head. "Why do you even need to drink one now anyway? It's not even past sunset."
"I'm sleepy," He replies, taking another sip. "And I've got things I need to do."
She's not going to pry more than that. She has no need to know, and she's not interested much, either. She just shrugs. "Suit yourself. Well, see you later."
She doesn't miss the forlorn look in his eyes as his gaze follows her, but she just ignores it.
He's just a weird guy.
It's probably nothing.
Yuuki's a really strange person who's so much softer and kinder than she thought.
It's the little things, but the way he talks slowly, as if always thinking them through, or the way he would be careful with how he handles things, or how soft his voice is when he talks; they all show her just how kind, how gentle, he really is.
It's a strange thing to witness, but not at all unpleasant.
She's still curious about some things; like how he always look so sad and yet content at the same time, or how he always wears gloves even when he's inside the dorm. It's also the little things that makes her curious, that makes her wants to know more.
On Sunday, she catches him cooking alone (she usually sees him with Aragaki, the scary one) in the kitchen, Koromaru barking happily up at him. She knocks the wall slightly, and he hums before turning around. He gives her a slight, gentle smile before saying. "Good morning."
"Morning," She says, walking a bit over to take a closer look. "What are you doing?"
"Feeding Koromaru," He replies, turning off the stove and using the spatula to pick up the grilled meat into the dog bowl. "Shinjirou-senpai will be back later, and I think Koromaru's hungry."
"You're really close with Senpai, huh?" She muses, not missing his constant use of the man's first name. "Kinda surprising, since he looks really scary."
"He's kind," Yuuki says, taking off his apron and kneeling down, patting the Shiba Inu's head lightly as he puts the bowl down. He then speaks softly to the canine, his hand rubbing the dog's snout fondly. "I'm not as good as he is, but I hope you like it."
"Woof!" The dog barks, wagging his tail. Yuuki lets out a soft chuckle that sounds pretty nice against her ears as he murmurs soft encouragements while the canine dives into the food.
After a moment, he gets up with a grunt, kicking his legs slightly as if to shake off something. He then turns to her. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"No," She says. "What, you gonna cook for me?"
"If you want me to."
At first, she thinks he's jesting. But after a pause, she realizes that he's actually offering to cook for her, someone he barely knows, a friend who's not even that close. But she doesn't question it; the notion of eating his cooking is a pretty interesting one, and since he offers, she sees no reason to refuse. With a shrug, she says, "Why not?"
"Any preference?" He asks, unfolding the apron and putting it on again.
She just smiles. "Surprise me."
He hums, seemingly amused, before he goes over to the cupboards and lays out ingredients onto the counter, humming the same tune she had heard on the monorail a week ago. She closes her eyes and listens to his voice, soft and careful. She finds herself tapping her fingers along as he goes about cooking up her surprise breakfast.
"So," She begins, the sound of boiling water and simmering oil no more than background noises. When he hums a bit louder to acknowledge her word, she continues. "I'm a bit curious. Why would you cook for a friend you barely know?"
He doesn't answer right away as he does things she doesn't even know needs doing. After he puts a cup of rice down, he says, "I don't see why not. I'm free, and cooking takes my mind off things."
"What things?" She asks, a cheek in her hand.
"Curious thoughts. Morbid thoughts," He answers, his voice steady. "Convoluted thoughts."
"So… kinda like OCD, or something?"
"Kind of," He parrots. "They're not that bad, but they take up my mental health sometimes."
She snorts. "I can imagine."
"And why are you interested? In my cooking, I mean," He asks back, mirth dancing in his pool of steel gray.
"The one on the roof tasted nice," She says with a small shrug, hand absently petting Koromaru as he comes over, nudging her hand with his snout. "And I don't see the harm."
Silence befall them after that.
It's not awkward, just a bit strange. There's a sense of calmness in the air, and like on the roof a week ago, it feels like home. It's warm and fuzzy, and it makes her mind and body relax. It's strange, to feel this comfortable around someone she barely knows. A voice is nagging at the back of her mind, saying that something is wrong, that she's forgotten something, but she could never put a finger on what, exactly.
Her fingers reach up to touch the hairpin she's now wearing everyday. It feels right, it feels like it belongs there, and it's such a strange thing. Someone bought this for her, she's certain. Someone very dear and very kind. Warm fingers brushing her hair away, soft lips pressed against her forehead as she's lulled back to sleep—
She stops. What is she feeling? When was that?
Before she could muse on it further, a plate is set before her; Takikomi Gohan. She blinks.
"This is my favorite! How did you know?" She says, grabbing the chopsticks and taking a bite. "Ooh, this tastes just right, too!"
"Lucky guess," He says with a small smile, placing a bowl of porridge on his side of the table. He puts his hands (still gloved) together and murmurs, with his eyes closed. "Ittadakimasu."
"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" She inquires, taking in another bite. She also questions the way he eats slowly, or the way his fingers tremble minutely, or the way he seems so unfocused sometimes, or the way he uses his left hand to eat, and not his right. "It's not that cold outside."
At this, his expression turns somewhat pained. It takes him a moment, but he does answer, his voice quiet. "…Hand's scarred. Don't want people to see."
Something urges her to push a little more. "Can I?"
He just looks at her, eyes scrutinizing. She keeps her gaze firm as she reaches for his right hand. He jerks slightly, but doesn't pull away. When she looks down at it, his fingers are shaking, and he curls them a little when her fingers tug at the edge of the glove carefully.
He looks away, mouth pressed into a thin line. But he nods, after a moment. She hums and slowly pulls the glove off—
—Revealing blackened scars and crooked fingers.
She instinctively traces them, careful, frowning just minutely. "…Does this… hurt?"
He shakes his head and pulls his hand away, quickly tugging it inside his glove again.
"Yuuki-kun…"
"It's okay," He says, a gentle smile on his face. A smile that seems so familiar, and yet… "It doesn't hurt. I'm alright now."
It feels more like a lie than a reassurance.
But she doesn't know what to say, so she just leaves it at that.
He approaches her again on Valentine's day.
They still talk like usual, but the knowledge of his hand being so scarred makes her heart aches, even when she has no idea how he got it. He never told her about it, so she leaves it be.
When she's with him, she feels safe, satisfied, content. It's weird feeling so relaxed and so happy around someone she barely knows, but she doesn't question it. Instinct can be weird sometimes, she knows this.
So when he walks up to her on Valentine's day after school and asks her to follow him, she does without hesitation. He leads her to the rooftops, where the sunlight and the breeze is warm, where the city is decorated by glistening light, the ocean by the shimmering blaze. When they reach the stone bench, he turns to her with a gentle smile.
"Don't worry, it's not chocolate," He says, motioning for her to put her hand forward.
She snorts a laughter and does so, palm facing the sky, waiting for something to be put there. "You jerk. You should be giving out chocolate and not leaving me hanging today, you know."
"Traditionally, it's the girl who'd give one out, no?" He says, pulling something out of his brazer. "But this is unrelated. I know you don't see me that way."
"I don't," She says, and the words taste so foul in her mouth she has to wrinkle her nose a little. "So, what is it?"
"Here," He puts a small box no more than four inches in size in her hand, the velvet texture of the cover brushing her fingertips. When she looks up at him, puzzled, he just smiles. "It's locked."
"…Then why would—"
"You'll know when and how to open it," He says quietly, the sorrowful look returning to his face. He then pushes her hand back towards her chest slightly before, to her surprise, wrapping his gloved fingers around her own and squeezing lightly. "Just wait until then."
"Why don't you just give it to me when it's time instead of… I dunno, leaving me hanging?" She says, looking down. Even through the gloves, his hands are so warm.
He doesn't answer that question and promptly changes the subject. "So, there's that, I guess."
"You guess, huh?" She repeats, putting the box inside her bag. "Where are you going next?"
"Grocery," He mutters, slightly embarrassed. "I'm going to help Shinjirou-senpai cook up dinner for everyone at the dorm today."
There's a beat of silence, awkward and unsure. In the end, she breaks it with a small smile. "I can go with you, you know."
"It's boring as hell," He states, rummaging through the bag with a scowl. "It's just grocery. You can head back to the dorm first."
"I still gotta wait for dinner anyway, so I'm coming with you," She says, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. "Come on, slowpoke!"
He looks at her for a while before cracking into a warm, gentle smile that's somehow taking her breath away.
"Okay."
"Sorry for the wait!"
Yuuki says as they enter the dorm, with the residents sitting together in the lounge, probably waiting for the dinner. He gives the rest a short nod of his head before jogging over to the kitchen, where she could faintly hear a few playful banters from him and Aragaki. She puts the bags down on the kitchen table before joining the rest on the couch.
"Shinji's strangely lively, huh?" Sanada comments, arms crossed. "Never seen him happy with someone else before."
"You're right," Kirijou hums, pushing a cup of tea towards her. She thanks the heiress as her eyes shift towards the kitchen. "I don't think I've seen the two of them interact before this, too. I wonder when they even get so close."
"Beats me," Sanada mutters. "But hey! We get to eat his cooking, so it's a plus."
"I didn't know he's the type to cook well," Junpei says. Amada carefully avoids his arm as the older boy waves around. "And I don't even know Makoto can cook well! He's way too talented!"
"I can confirm, his cooking is heavenly," Yukari says, remembering all the strange meals he'd cook up when given the time.
"Oh, I can also attest to that," Fuuka giggles. And then, she adds, "He might look detached, but deep down he's a sweet person, isn't he?"
"You tell me," Yukari hums, taking a sip from her cup before she catches Fuuka looking her way. "What?"
"I've been meaning to ask for awhile now, but… where did you get that pin?" Fuuka says, pointing at her ear, at the purplish wisteria pin.
"I dunno," She says truthfully, fingers gently tracing the outline. She frowns a little, flashes of images and illusions of warm touches invading her mind yet again. She just shrugs it all off. "I don't remember, but I think someone bought to for me. Maybe during Kyoto trip."
"Kyoto, huh…"
They all fall silent, as if contemplating something. Kyoto had been fun, Yukari remembers; the sunset adorning the riverside, the traditional hotel room, the view from the temple, the colorful leaves falling to the ground. There were also some shenanigans at the hot spring when they encountered the boys—
…What the—?
She's suddenly snapped out of the musings when Yuuki and Aragaki start decorating the table with plates after plates of food, the aroma invading her senses and drawing her towards the dining room without allowing her thoughts. She just giggles a little before seating herself next to Fuuka, the multicolor-hued food making this all the more surreal.
Yuuki sits opposite from her, apron neatly tugged under his armpit, with Aragaki right beside him. The older boy pats his head lightly before handing him a chopstick. Before she could say anything, Sanada speaks up, clearly amused. "I didn't know you can show your softness around others, Shinji."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, you protein junkie," Aragaki growls, but there's not much bite behind his words. He just roles his eyes before gesturing towards the meal before them. "Dig in, yer lot. To all us singles with no boyfriends nor girlfriends."
"That's just rude," Sanada says, crossing his arms.
"Oh yeah? Then show me your significant other, then."
"I—" Sanada frowns a little, then he growls. "Fine, you win."
Yuuki closes his eyes and laughs lightly, the sound is like music to her ears. A part of her misses his soft laughter, misses his smile. But why? She isn't even that close with him, and it's only these past few days did she have the chance to witness this hidden side of him. Why would she even miss something she's barely seen?
And, once again, her thoughts are cut short when Junpei raises his glass of water. "To us singles!"
She joins in, laughing at the light atmosphere around them.
She then shoves those nagging thoughts to the back of her mind.
They're probably nothing.
He looks weak.
It's not immediately noticeable, at first, but comparing him from the beginning of February to the third week of the month, he seems weaker, paler. He seems easily tired and is often out of breath, too.
His participation in the PE class has become noticeably less, and the pace of his steps whenever she catches him is much slower than she's used to. To her, it also looks like he's in pain all the time, wincing at every little voice, gasping at almost every little hit on his body. She tries to ask him if he's okay once or twice, but drops it when he seals his lips tight.
It bothers her to no end, especially when she saw him gasping for breath after climbing up just a few sets of stairs. She hadn't meant to look, but she was coming back from meeting her senior in the archery club, and he was there, gasping, beads of sweats rolling down his face, his eyes unfocused. But when she walked over and asked if he's okay, he just shrugged it off and said everything's fine.
He's totally not fine, but she isn't too close with him. And she, frankly, shouldn't have cared much, anyway.
After the bell rings, the students start to leave, with Junpei and Tomochika already sprinting out the door, planning on drowning themselves inside the arcade, probably. She just shakes her head, and is about to leave herself when she spots Yuuki still sitting there, his head in his hands, his breath shaky and shallow, a bit faster than normal.
She takes a long look before touching his shoulder lightly, and he jerks his head up, looking at her, his eyes hazed. He blinks the fog away and narrows his eyes slightly. His mouth moves a little, but no sound comes out. She sighs and decides to start the conversation herself. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"
"…A little," He confesses, leaning his head back into his palms, sighing a bit loudly. "I'm… going to stay here awhile. I'm nauseous."
"…Okay," She says, then pauses a little. She thinks it's more than just being a little nauseous, and a voice is nagging at her to stay. Besides, he's still a friend, as distant as he is, so she sits back down, drawing a surprised hum out of him. "Just tell me when you want to leave."
"You don't have to stay," He murmurs, his voice rough. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."
"It's just a few minutes," She counters, crossing her legs and leaning against the backrest of her chair. His gray eyes are, much to her surprise, beautiful. Not like the night sky, but like a well-polished granite, shining and warm. She frowns a little at the thought, then wipes it away. "I can wait. I've got nothing to do today anyway."
"…I see," He murmurs, burying his face back into his hands. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I want to stay here," She shrugs. "You seem like you need help."
He lets out a puff of humorless laughter, but says nothing more after that.
She takes this time of silence to watch him closely, something she hasn't been doing before. For the past three weeks, she's been seeing sides of him she's never seen, and the more she does, the more sense of dread she feels. Even though they're far from being close friends (using the word friend is already a stretch on its own), there's this sense of worry reserved in her heart just for him.
His breathing is ragged, and there's some soft, barely audible occasional whimpers following some of his breath. His hands are trembling just minutely, and he's still sweating. His eyes are glued to the table, but they are unfocused. His brows are scrunched, as if in pain. He looks weaker, and it makes her worry.
Suddenly, he plants his hands on the table and gets up shakily. She follows quickly, a hand on his arm, steadying him. He gives her a small smile, eyes slightly squinted, as he staggers to his feet fully. He doesn't move for a while before letting out a puff of air. Then, he says, "I'm better now. You can… go on ahead. I'll follow."
"We can walk home together, if you'd like," She offers, the nagging feeling getting sharper and much harder to ignore. It's telling her she shouldn't let him off her sight, no matter what.
He frowns. "…I have to go to Naganaki Shrine. We can… go to Iwatodai Station together, I suppose."
His speech is slowed, she realizes. Pauses for air, and reluctance in his intonation. She frowns a little, unsure of what to make of the information in hand. "…Why Naganaki Shrine?"
"I made a promise," He whispers, eyes looking into some place far, far away. A sad smile graces his lips as he looks at her. "I want to see it through."
The way he words that worries her, but again, she couldn't quite put a finger on it. In the end, she just sighs and shrugs, a hand tight on his arm, fingers careful not to leave a bruise. "I'll walk you to Iwatodai Station. After that, you're on your own."
"Okay," He breathes, relaxing slightly against her palm.
They say nothing else for the rest of the day.
On the first day of March, he approaches her again.
She's been seeing more and more of him, weakened, pained, exhausted. He's been purposefully avoiding her, but still cooks for her sometimes, and still talks to her when prompted. But something's off, she could tell that much. She hasn't paid him much mind, at first, but worry starts to gnaw at her when she catches him gripping the stair's railing tight, panting, just this morning. He looks like he could fall over any second, but when he's with others, he looks almost normal.
But he's talking slower, thinking slower, walking slower. It's like he's having difficulties with the most mundane things, and every little breath is taken away from him when he does something more than he should, which is too often to be considered normal. She isn't sure what to do about it, what she should do about it. But he said he's fine, so she just dropped the issue, seeing no point in forcing it when he's not even open to receive help.
So, when he comes up to her after a week, the first thing she says is, "Are you sure you're really okay? You look like you could fall over any seconds now. You should go to the hospital."
He just smiles faintly, but says nothing. He stands there, eyes shifting away from her and out the window, at the rustling leaves dancing alongside the whistling wind. She's about to repeat herself when he speaks up, his voice raw, with barely any volume behind it. "There's… something I want you to see."
She tilts her head at that, her worries briefly forgotten. "…What thing?"
"Can you… walk with me today?" He deflects her question again with an offer out of the blue, his hands tugged nervously inside his pockets, his smile still so gentle but so broken. It somehow makes her heart aches and screams, that something's not right, that she has to pry further, that she has to do something. But she isn't even sure what she's supposed to do, and it's not like he's asking for help anyway.
In the end, she just shrugs. "Sure, I guess."
His smile turns into one of relief, and his hunched shoulders relax slightly. He nods once, his steps a bit unsure as he staggers forward. She's about to grab him, but thinks better of it and pulls away, instead getting up and following behind him.
The train ride is quiet, maybe too silent, but he's not saying anything, and she isn't sure how to even start a conversation with him. He's wearing his headphones, his eyes gazing out towards the horizon, a small smile – so sad, so gentle – on his lips, his fingers drumming along the beats of the tune she's grown accustomed to over the weeks.
When they arrive at Iwatodai, he leads her to the unusual road that'd lead to Naganaki Shrine. She just frowns, but follows regardless, unable to refuse that forlorn look on his face. They are silent as they walk together, a fair bit of distance between them, with him just a few steps in front of her, his posture weak, his steps unsure, his breath uneven.
She really wants to know why it is so, and how can she help, but she's shot down almost every time. At one point, she thinks it got on the nerves, so she just stops caring. She couldn't help keeping watch, however. She sighs and shakes her head; she's really thinking in circles now. Anymore than this and she'll get a headache.
Yuuki leads her up the steps, and walks past the shrine and out the back, leading her to a place that's quite new to her knowledge. She doesn't realize there's a hill behind the shrine before. And as he leads her up higher, her anticipation grows.
The view is absolutely breathtaking.
The full view of the city, right before her. The cherry blossom tree is blooming way before its usual time, the pink petals falling and dancing along the cool wind. She lets out a breath, taken by the sight that seems so unreal, so beautiful. She walks a bit around the place, echoes of her steps against the stone following her as she looks around.
"It's beautiful," She says, looking at Yuuki as he smiles at her.
"It is," He says, looking up at the cherry blossoms, reaching out a hand. A petal falls into his palm, and he rubs it between his gloved fingers, gentle as if afraid to hurt it. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah!" She says, smiling brightly. "I don't even know there's a hill here! I should come here during the summer festival this year."
"It'd be… quite a sight, I'm sure," He says softly, walking over and sitting down on the bench just under the tree, relaxing and leaning back against the cold stone. "This is all… I wanted to show you… You can leave… whenever you want."
"I'm just going to admire this a bit longer, I think," She hums, dancing around still. "What about you?"
"I'm going to rest awhile," He whispers, closing his eyes and leaning fully into the seat, his hands clasped together, his shoulders no longer hunched. The sight… makes her heart twinges, somehow, and she doesn't like the feeling. "I'll be back… after sunset, maybe."
"Can I watch it with you?" She blurts out, then frowns afterwards. She isn't even sure why she's saying that, but she just shrugs. Watching the sun leaving the world for the day here sounds oddly romantic, even if her company is less than ideal.
"Of course."
After a while of moving around, she sits down on the bench, a few inches worth of distance between them. Even from here, she could still hear his ragged breathing, see his sweat-drenched face, his matted hair, and the way his chest seems to rise and fall at an incredibly tiring pace. She keeps her eyes on him as his eyes remain closed, his lips slightly pursed as if to control himself.
It makes no sense how he could get worse so fast and without warning. He isn't sick in a common sense, she thinks; there's no fever (his face isn't flushed), no wounds to speak of, no signs of infection to be seen, yet here he is. She wonders what could've caused such a disarray in his body, and she's a bit worried about him; even if they're not close, they're still friends. She probably should've said something about it…
"Hey," She begins, unsure. He opens his eyes slightly then glances her way. When she's sure she has his attention, she murmurs, "Are you okay?"
He smiles and whispers, "No."
She blinks, letting the word sinks in. Then she does a double take before grabbing his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "What!? If you're not alright, then you should go see a doctor! I'll—"
He puts his gloved hand over hers, stopping her dead in her track. His hand is so, so warm, and a part of her is whispering that she misses this. Before she could protest or think on it, he hums, closing his eyes yet again. "It's alright... This, too, will pass."
"Yuuki-kun, excuse me, but you look like absolute shit right now," She says, tightening her grip on his shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to—"
"Please," He pleads, stopping her yet again. She looks straight into his eyes, shimmering like stars in the night sky. His smile softens as he lets her hand go, gaze shifting away from her face and to the horizon, where the sun's starting to sink under the skyline. "It'll pass, eventually... I think… I can hold out until then."
She bites her lip. A part of her just knows it's a blatant lie. Something doesn't seem right, but the way he said it, the way he worded it, it makes her stop, it makes her listen. In the end, she just sighs and sits back down, hand sliding off his shoulder and back to her lap. A moment passes before she manages to find her voice again, and she speaks up. "Why're you so stubborn?"
"Am I?" Is what he says, soft chuckle rippling out of his chest. It sounds so soft, so gentle, and yet so broken. She wants to correct that, somehow, but she isn't sure how.
Much to her surprise, a hand (crooked, warm, gloved) comes up to her cheek and cups it, turning her face slightly to the side. His smile makes her breath catches in her throat, and his touch is so tender, and it feels just right, like it belongs there.
His thumb caresses her cheek a little, his other fingers curling just minutely, making themselves known, but not doing much else. He's pressing his palm against her skin, and even through the material of the glove, she could still feel the softness and the warmth of his hand. His smile is sad, and kind, with a mixture of regret and fondness in it.
For what feels like an eternity, they're locked in that position, with her whimpering just slightly at the intensity of his gaze, and him smiling minutely as he keeps carefully caressing her cheek, drawing little circles right under her eye, fingers ghosting along the line of her jaw. She wants to say something, just a word, anything, but she couldn't bring herself to.
In the end, he pulls away, his eyes shifting towards the horizon again. A few heartbeats later, he murmurs, the wind carrying his words oh-so-softly. "You're beautiful."
"Uh…" She's at a loss for words, stumbling on her own tongue as she does. Ultimately, she decides to settle for a, "Thanks."
Her fingers go up to touch the spot the warmth of his hand still lingers, but she isn't given much time to think as he says, standing up on unsteady legs. "I'm sorry… about that. Just… I've always… wanted to do it, you see."
"…Why?" She asks as the sun disappears from the world, leaving them in the dim light of the moon.
She couldn't see his face anymore, and his words are barely audible, but she manages to pick them up as he whispers. "Because… I love you."
He walks away before she could even comprehend the confession spoken to her in the dark.
When she sees him again two days later, he's clinging to the staircase, knees buckling and ready to give out under him.
There's no one else at the dorm, presumably having gone out celebrating, or perhaps it is too early to return. She rushes to him and instinctually puts his arm around her shoulders, steadying him, a hand on his chest. His heartbeat is erratic, his breath coming out in gasps, his eyes unfocused. She's about to take him to the hospital, but… she feels like he wouldn't allow her to, no matter what. So, in the end, she just helps him up, waiting for his words.
It takes him a while, but he finally murmurs out softly. "…I'm sorry."
"You really should go to the hospital," She tries again as she helps him walk up the stairs, one step at a time. She shoves the question about his confession away, for now. She could always ask him later. "I could take you there."
He shakes his head, as stubborn as ever. His other hand then finds hers, pressing her palm deeper against his heart as it beats almost in time with her own. His fingers then curl around her hand slightly before he speaks up. "I… might've been a bit… too bold last night. My body… really hates alcohol, now…"
"…You drink?" Is what she ends up asking.
"…A little," He confesses, a huff of laughter accompanying his words. "I'll… be okay."
"If you say so, as unconvincing as your words are," She mumbles.
They reach his room soon after, and his shaky hand fumbles on the locks for a moment before he manages to open the door. She lets his arm slides off her shoulders as he walks halfway in, a hand on the frame to support himself, the other dangling on his side.
He pauses there for a while before turning to her. "Graduation's… two days away, right…?"
"Hm? Yeah," She says, nodding slightly. "Why?"
"I and Shinjirou-senpai… planned on cooking for you all tomorrow… just one last time," He says, turning to her slightly as he breathes. "Tell them that… for me?"
"…Alright, I will," She says. She's planning on loitering in the lounge anyway, so she doesn't see the harm. "Then, see you tomorrow."
"Mhm," He hums, closing his eyes before nodding. "See you."
Just one last time.
She doesn't like the way he put it at all.
He looks a bit better the next evening, cooking with Aragaki while the rest of the residents gather around the table, much like during Valentine's Day.
"What's the occasion this time?" Sanada asks, looking quite pleased at the aroma of the food. She, too, is looking forward to the meal. While Yuuki's cooking skill is extraordinary, Aragaki's is in a whole different league, and a chance to enjoy both is always such a pleasure.
"Graduation, of fucking course," He says, eyeing Yuuki slightly as the latter finishes his cooking. "Last chance we got to sit together like this, right? Might as well."
"Sentimentality? From you?" Kirijou muses. "That is indeed quite new, Shinjirou."
"Oh, shut up."
"Where did you learn how to cook, Yuuki-kun?" Fuuka asks, leaning forward slightly as Yuuki goes back to the stove, adding the finishing touch.
He seems to smile a little at that, this time genuine, with no sadness behind his eyes. "Shinjirou-senpai has been… teaching me for a while, now. He's… the best teacher."
"Oooh, Shinji, are you blushing?"
"Fuck off, Aki!"
Amada laughs, and the rest soon follow.
They gather around and start digging in, the atmosphere light and happy. It's regrettable that they haven't been doing thing together much as dormmates, but at least they all end in a high note.
She couldn't help but glance at Yuuki from time to time, however. He smiles and laughs as Aragaki (the always scary one who seems so soft around Yuuki) pats his head, ruffling his hair. They give out the air of being brother-like, and maybe having known each other for a good while, now. It's kind of strange, since she thinks she's never seen them together before.
She just shoves whatever questions she has to the back of her mind and continues enjoying the meal with her friends, laughing, chatting idly. Time flies by quickly, and before she knows it, the plates are already cleaned out, and the clock ticks the time away slowly, steadily.
They take some more time to take collective pictures of each other, smiling quite radiantly so, before they all disperses, with both Yuuki and Aragaki refusing help. They insist on cleaning up, saying that it's no big deal for them. After about five minutes of arguing, they just drop it and go back to their rooms to prepare for the big day tomorrow.
She's surprised to hear knocking at her door half an hour later. Thinking it might've been Junpei (who still hasn't returned her study notes) or Fuuka, she goes over and opens the door immediately—
"…Yuuki-kun?"
He's smiling, his posture hunched, brows slightly furrowed as if in pain. She just blinks stupidly a few times, unsure. Before she could say anything else, he speaks up—although, his voice is barely above a whisper, at this point. Speaking up is a bit of a stretch. "…Hey."
"Uh… can I help you?"
He pauses, looking away slightly. After a few deep breaths, he nods, lips pressed into a thin line. "It's… going to sound strange, but… I want to ask a favor… if that's alright with you."
She frowns slightly, but decides to humor him and shrugs. "Sure, I guess… what is it?"
"…Don't slap me, okay?"
She's about to ask what the hell kind of favor is that, but her thought process stops when his hand – his hand, with nothing to cover it, this time – reaches her cheek and cups it, much like the first day of March. His fingers are scarred, crooked, skin charred and blackened, but he's careful. His hand is so, so warm, and she shivers as he rubs that spot under her eye softly.
"So, um…" She begins, his confession resurfacing to the forefront of her mind. This seems like as good a time as any to ask him about it. "…You said… you love me?"
He doesn't seem surprise. It's more like he's been expecting her question, since his smile grows just a tiny bit wider, sadder, before he hums, the sound rumbling lowly inside his chest. He doesn't answer right away as he reaches his hand further until his finger brushes her ear, so warm and gentle, before finally tracing that spot above it, at the pin she's been wearing every day for the past month.
He hums again, and she gasps, the feeling clicking inside the back of her mind. The warm, soft touch as someone puts the pin just above her ear, fingers carefully brushing her hair away—
"It was you," She finally says. He doesn't stop, but he does slow down, fingertips brushing her jawline softly. She thinks, if it's been like any normal circumstances, she would've slapped the lights out of him by now. But she feels the urge not to do that. "You bought me this pin. You're the one who put it there in the first place. It was you."
He smiles, nodding once as he breathes. "Yes. It was me."
"Why didn't you say anything?" She says. A part of her is hissing angrily, that she herself should've remembered if someone's bought her something that she feels so strongly towards. She just doesn't understand her own reactions. And how could she have forgotten who gifted her something like this? How could she tell that it was him, now?
"You didn't remember," He says as he runs his fingers down her chin, lifting her face up just a little to face him better. "I don't see a reason… to remind you of such things."
"…I still don't," She says, frowning. "Why're you the only one who remember?"
He answers not with words, this time, but with his soft, warm lips pressing against her own.
She gasps; the sensation is new, but it feels like she has felt it before, a lifetime ago. It tastes like fallen snow and moonlight and night sky, so sorrowful yet so kind, bittersweet with both joy and regrets. She opens her mouth slightly, her hands suddenly finding themselves at his chest, gripping his coat, clinging to him. He tips her head slightly backward, forever careful, as he parts her lips more with his tongue, leaving not an inch of her mouth unexplored.
She hums into the kiss, the feeling of nostalgia far stranger than she's ever felt. Her heart beats just a little faster as her legs quiver, ready to give out. She stands firm, feeling the hand on her chin moving down to her neck, resting right above her choker, fingers carefully tracing around it. His other hand finds her waist and pulls her against his chest, against the warmth that she hasn't experienced before, yet her heart seems to always long for.
The kiss lasts for forever before he pulls back first, panting against her lips. She clutches his shirt just a little tighter, refusing his retreat. He looks down at her, gently, kindly, before he whispers against her lips, the sound chilling, sending shivers down her spine and making her breath hitches. "…Thank you, for… not punching me… Yukari."
They aren't that close as to start using first name, and yet… it feels just right. It feels like… home. She gasps again, her eyes searching his for something; explanation, answers, anything that would allow her to make head and tail out of this situation. But he's giving her nothing. Instead, she lets go of his coat, now crumbled under her grips, and cups both of his cheeks in her hands, keeping his eyes on hers.
"…Who are you?" She asks, not in a sense that people would normally do. She knows who he is; he's Yuuki Makoto, a stranger who lives in the same dorm, and yet… he feels like so much more. More than just a stranger. More than just a friend. "Who are you… to me?"
He exhales, closing his eyes and placing both his hands over her own, the grip so tender despite the callous scars on his skin. Slowly, he presses his forehead against hers before murmuring against her lips, his breath hot. "I don't know. But… you are – always have been, always will be – my everything."
For him to say that makes her heart aches. A storm of emotions is brewing inside her chest with not a way out, and she isn't sure why. He's – he's saying that she's his everything, that she means to him far more than he is to her. It's painful, it's unexplainable, but her heart knows this is just right, that maybe, just maybe, she had felt the same way an eon ago, too.
She just looks straight into his eyes as he pulls back, and to her surprise, he presses his lips softly against her forehead, calming her down, making her relax almost against her own will. Then, he says, "It's alright, even if you don't remember… I'll always be there, right beside you… okay?"
"…Why?" She manages out, hands gripping onto his coat, not letting go. "How can I become so important to you when I can't even remember anything?"
"Does it matter?" He asks, tilting his head. "Love… doesn't need to happen both ways, does it? All I know… is that you don't need to be loved in return just to love others… I don't mind if the feelings aren't mutual, you know. You… mean more to me than anything. You're my world, my guiding light, my sun. Even if I'm no more than a stranger to you… you'll always be everything to me."
It's wrong. His reasoning is so wrong, but she couldn't diffuse it, she couldn't say anything against it. All she could do is listen, and try to understand. "I… I don't understand you, Yuuki-kun. I don't understand. It feels wrong. It shouldn't—"
"Shh," He whispers, a finger on her lips, stopping her. Then, he pulls her into a tight hug, allowing her to feel his beating heart against her own chest. "You don't need to understand now… But I promise you, that… in the end, you will."
"I…"
"You gave me this life," He whispers against her ear, his arms tight around her, so gentle, so warm. She feels like she wants to cry. "I owe you everything. So… thank you."
Everything feels wrong. It feels like he's going to go away and it feels like she has to stop him. She's shaking from head to toe, her breath hitching inside her throat. When he pulls away, she grabs onto his sleeve, making him turn back, stopping him. A voice is whispering, scared, terrified, of losing him. Even though they're only friends, even though she barely knows him, she doesn't want to let him go. She feels like if she does, she's going to break into a thousand pieces.
"Please," She whispers, her voice rough, fear and confusion mixing into her tone. "Please, please, don't go away. I don't want you to go away. I don't want to lose you."
He turns back, gently prying her fingers off of his sleeve and grasping her hand in both of his (warm, he's so warm, and infinitely kind) before pulling it up to kiss her fingertips. He then presses a single finger to her chest and says, "Even if I'm not here… as long as you remember me, I'll always be there for you."
She's crying, and then she finds herself clinging to him. "No, no, no, don't say that. Don't say that like you're going away. Don't say that like you're—"
Dying.
It finally clicks; his sudden confession, the kiss, the two weeks of him looking weak, it all makes sense now. And instead of satisfied, she's terrified, she's scared. There's no evidence, but – he's going to die, he is, she can feel it in her bones. He's going to die and disappear—
He huffs, seemingly amused, a hand patting her head. Why is he amused when he's dying? Does he not fear death? How could he be so calm? Questions, questions, they keep running inside her head like a typhoon, sweeping any rational thoughts away from her, and she's still clinging to him like a lifeline. When she thinks he's going to pull away, he pulls her head against his shoulder softly instead.
"It's alright, everything's okay…" He murmurs reassuringly, rocking her slightly back and forth, as if to lull her into sleep, into blissful oblivion that would make her forget. "I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere… I'll stay with you… for as long as you want me to… okay?"
She could only nod.
She pulls him inside her room and closes the door, her hands still trembling, her thoughts haywire, unsure, as she leads him to the bed. Then, they just sit there in silence, tears still falling from her eyes. It takes her a while to register that he's wiping them away with his hand, now free from its confinement, and his smile is so soft, so delicate.
She wants to ask. Is he truly dying? If not, will he stay or disappear? When will he be gone and never return? Why? – she wants to ask everything. But, in the end, no words come out, only small whimpers. She's scared, uncharacteristically so. Scared of change. Scared of death. Scared that he'll leave and—
"Yukari," He whispers her name softly, and she looks up into those pair of steel gray that instantly take her breath away from her. He smiles. "I'm right here."
At that, he brings her hand carefully to his chest, letting her feel his beating heart. Her own frantic breathing seems to calm down a little at that, and she curls her fingers over his coat. Whimpers escape her throat again before she whispers. "Are you… are you dyin—"
Before the question gets out, he silences her with a finger to her lips. She looks up at his eyes, at his smile, as he says, "No more questions tonight. I'm here… I'm still here. And I'll be here… for you. With you. Always."
She pulls him closer and kisses him again.
This time, the kiss is desperate, terrified, afraid of letting go. She decides to believe him, just for tonight, that he'll stay forever, that he'll not leave her behind.
She decides to believe in what her heart knows to be a lie, at least, for now.
She doesn't know what else she could've done.
She wakes up alone in her bed, neatly tugged under the blanket, a piece of paper and a small, silver key tied to a necklace on the table.
She sits up, her mouth dry, her head a mess as she recalls the details from yesterday. She decides to push the sense of impending doom away, decides to still believe in him and his promise that he'll always be there. Instead, she focuses on the piece of paper, her hand reaching for the key as her eyes scan the words written in a neat handwriting that she's never known belong to him.
I'll meet you at school. The key is for that box I gave you, but don't open it just yet.
You'll know when to open it when the time comes.
With love, Makoto.
"Makoto…"
The word rolls off her tongue easily, as if she's been saying it for hundreds, for thousands of time before, but she still couldn't remember. She traces her fingers along his handwriting, which is absolutely beautiful, before she puts the paper down and takes the key into her palm.
It's cool against her skin, the design simple, color pure silver with not a single blemish. It's tied to a black cord, making it some kind of necklace. A part of her is tempted to open the box she's placed on her table and take a peek, but… Yuuki—no, Makoto said to wait, so she will.
She sighs, testing the weight of the key in her hand for a bit before slinging it over her neck and tugging it inside her shirt. It feels like some sort of memento, to her, but she quickly kills that thought off. He says he'll stay, and she's going to believe it.
She sees, at a glance, the blonde transfer student and Aragaki standing in front of his door, but doesn't pay the scene much mind as she makes her way to the school. It's Graduation Day today, and she's not going to be late and getting yelled at for it.
(A part of her is yelling at her to walk over there instead of going down, but her stupid, stubborn head and legs refuse to stop.)
The spring wind is warm, the sunlight just right, and the walk from the school gate towards the building feels so free, so calm. She looks up at the clock at little as Fuuka and Junpei chat idly about. It's already been two years. One more, and she'll graduate and have to leave this place, too. The thought is a bit sad, but she's excited all the same.
When she reaches the assembly hall, she realizes that Makoto's still not here. She chances a glance at Junpei, who's giving her a shrug, signaling that he has not a clue either. She sighs; he did write that he'll be here, so where the hell could he be now? The door's closed, and the speech by Kirijou is about to start, too. She curses a little; if he's late, she's going to punch him when they're back at the dorm.
When Kirijou starts giving the speech, something feels… odd, to her. Her head is a little heavy, and she thinks she's remembering things that she isn't even sure had happened. The name, Isis, comes to her mind, and then the falling moon, the bright red eye, the light. Stone circle, adorned with black feathers scattering like leaves in the wind.
She hears something like a wind chime, ringing softly, and she looks up. Kirijou stops her speech, as well. Junpei follows her eyes to the window, as the cherry blossom petals dance upwards into the sky—
—It all comes back like waves crashing into the shore.
"Makoto!" She exclaims, tears rolling down her cheeks. Memories of him strangling her, of him avoiding her, of him reaching out, of them holding hands, of them smiling, of their loves—it's all real.
How could she have forgotten something – someone – so important!?
Before she knows it, she's already out of the door, her legs carrying her forward. She sees the others starting to get up from their seats, and Mitsuru hopping down from the stage, as well. But she couldn't wait anymore. She has to tell him she's sorry, for not remembering, for leaving him alone, for acting like total stranger for a whole damn month.
As the rooftop gets closer, she could feel both anticipation and dread building up in her stomach. The weight of the key is pressed against her chest as she takes two steps at a time, until the door's right in her face. Without pause, she pushes it open, the rush of wind and sunlight hitting her eyes.
He's sitting there, hands between his legs, head resting against Aragaki's shoulder as the older boy has his hand on Makoto's opposite one, as if supporting him. Aigis is close by, her hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. The moment stretches outward into infinity, and then she's running towards them.
Makoto looks up, his face still pale, his eyes still unfocused, but when he sees her, he smiles.
His smile is so bright, so gentle, like the morning sun.
And then, he's in her arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She says into his shoulder, crying, tears staining his uniform. She could feel both Aragaki and Aigis backing away, and she could feel Makoto circling his arms around her lightly, carefully, as if afraid of breaking her. "I'm so sorry! How could—how could I've forgotten something so important? How could I have forgotten you?"
He doesn't say anything. He puts his hands back down and exhales into the crook of her neck. She could feel his lips stretch into a smile against her skin. She knows he remembers, all this time. She's the one who taught him about flowers, the one who'd often dragged him up into the garden on this very roof, the one who made him promise would see the cherry blossom tree at the shrine together with her once the fight is all over.
He remembers everything.
"Are you tired?" She asks after pulling back slightly. His eyes are murky and hazy, but he's smiling. He hums with a small nod, so she just sits down beside him and lowers his head down to her lap. He doesn't resist as he blinks slowly, his gaze as gentle as he's always been. She smiles, eyes slightly teary. "I'm here. You can sleep for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."
He hums, closing his eyes, and relaxes fully. She puts her hand over his, with his fingers interlaced and placed on his chest, feeling the scars and the warmth radiating from them. He murmurs something, but she isn't too sure what.
Oh well, she could just ask him later.
"Sweet dreams, Makoto… I'll always be here, right beside you."
Everything's alright now.
They're okay. They will be okay.