Chapter Text
This story begins with Touko Fukawa spread-eagled on the floor, the tortured remnants of a ripped-up manuscript scattered around her, blobby tears soaking her face and sliding down to her collar, and a little starscape of papercuts sprinkled across her fingers.
One thing about this scene, however, was different than usual.
“It’s ok... Let it out, alright?” came a sympathetic voice. “It’s okay to be frustrated.”
Makoto sat at the desk in Touko’s room, watching her patiently. Seeing her reach a moment of calm, he quickly went for the box of bandaids he kept in her desk drawer and started counting out a good twenty of them.
Touko sat in abject misery, the drip of her tears the only motion she could stomach at that moment.
Makoto kept talking steadily. “You’re still here. I’m still here. We’re still friends.”
Makoto started handing her the bandaids. It helped to give her something physical to do. Touko sniffled and started dutifully applying them over the many tiny cuts she had just reopened.
They sat in silence for a little while, save the small sounds of bandaid wrappers and adhesive.
When Touko was finally done, gingerly flexing her half-mummified hands, Makoto finally asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Touko bit her lip, looking down at the wreckage of papers. “I-It doesn’t work...” she mumbled.
Makoto blinked. “You mean like... um, the story? The plot...?”
“It doesn’t WORK!” Touko grabbed her head in her hands and shrieked as her brain exploded again. “It doesn’t work anymore! N-n-none of it! I c-c-c-can’t talk to Master anymore, and n-now even in f-fiction, all the love, all the p-passion, I can’t... it doesn’t... work!”
Byakuya had gotten a restraining order against her about a month ago, which she had yet to understand was a blessing in disguise.
“So... when you say ‘it doesn’t work’, you mean...”
Makoto thought for a moment. For Touko, if her writing ‘doesn’t work’, it must mean...
It won’t sell well?
It won’t get her more fans?
It won’t provide an escapist fantasy from her trauma?
“...You mean, it doesn’t feel right to be writing about all these perfect romances anymore?”
“YES!” Touko choked on the word, as if it was unfamiliar to her, and entered a small coughing fit. Makoto quickly passed her a water bottle, which she placed on the floor and ignored.
Most would be shocked to read Touko’s lavishly affectionate novels and compare them to the girl herself, but Makoto thought her writing made a subtle kind of sense. The idealized, tightly gendered pairings she wrote were exactly the roles she had tried to force herself and Byakuya into. If she was becoming uncomfortable with that, it could be... progress?
“So, maybe it would make you happy... to write a different kind of story?”
“N-no!” Touko looked fearful, like someone was going to make her do it. “No, no, no, no, no, no! I c- can’t write a d-different kind of story, ‘cause... ‘cause...” Her words trailed off into a fresh bout of tears and her gaze dropped back to the floor.
Oops, let’s try a different approach.
“Do you think maybe... something could help you think about romance differently?”
“H-huh?” Touko looked back up at him.
Makoto hesitated. Was it really the right time to say something like this?
Well, surely bringing up the idea couldn’t do any harm in the long run.
“Touko, are you - um, I mean, do you know that - um - I mean, have you ever...”
The confused expression on her face was drifting towards panic.
“Um, Touko, do you know girls can date girls?”
Touko looked at him in horror. “What!?” An alarming blush bloomed in her face as her hands compulsively made claws, her veins standing out. “Y-y-y-you think I’m o-one of those... s-s-s-sluts who... even mess around with women!?”
“No, you’ve got that wrong!” Makoto put up his hands in defense. “It’s really not like that, Touko! I mean, think about Hina and Sakura. They’re the nicest people in our class. Just because they’re gay, it’s not like they’re somebody’s gross erotic fantasy. They just love each other. Is there anything wrong with that?”
Touko again gripped her head in her hands, screwing up her face and straining her muscles as if trying to crush the thoughts away. “Y-y-y-y-” she started. But she couldn’t finish. She just sat there, her heart pounding in her ears, trying to hide from the world. Until eventually her adrenalin just started to die down, her heavy breathing settled, and she limply dropped her hands to the floor and let her eyes open.
“You’re saying... girls can...” Tears popped up in the corners of her eyes. “...Be in love with girls?”
“...Yeah, Touko.” Makoto gave her a little smile.
Her tears began to flow again, but this time they felt calmer and softer, like rivers down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“So passion, a-and love, a-and devotion, and... love... can be with girls?”
“Definitely.”
She sat and cried quietly. Makoto couldn’t figure out what felt strange at first, until he realized he’d never seen her cry without screaming.
Finally, as if drawing the words from the bottom of a deep well, she whispered, “Could I... be with a girl?”
“Yeah, you absolutely could, Touko.” Makoto was beaming with relief. He hadn’t been sure how deep the homophobia went, or if it was really of the ‘internalized’ variety in the first place, but it seemed like he had guessed right. He was really, really happy that he could help his friend feel a little more at peace.
“Then I think...” whispered Touko. Her stomach had not only butterflies, but all sorts of different bugs. There were so many warm, achy little feelings inside her that she usually interpreted as jealousy, hatred, and disgust - the emotions that girls can have for girls - and acted accordingly. But this new option... it made her feel so, so weird.
“I think... I want to ask out...”
Belatedly, Makoto realized something important. It could be a serious disaster if Touko chose the wrong girl to ask out first. Makoto loved all his friends, but he had to admit that if it was Celes, or Mukuro, or even Kyoko, things might not turn out so good... He was about to say something, when Touko concluded:
“Junko.”
Makoto breathed a sigh of relief. Junko was a nice, friendly girl, but not a pushover. If anyone could handle a simple, sweet first relationship with Touko, it might be her.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea!” he smiled encouragingly. “Ask her on a date, Touko.”
Touko clasped her hands together and smiled a deep, heartfelt smile.
“I... I can’t wait!”