Work Text:
your name is makoto naegi, and you are tired.
these are the two truths you will always have to live with for the rest of your days.
you are apparently the “ultimate hope”.
you’re not so sure if you believe that.
have you ever believed that?
every day you wake up and you lie.
how are you supposed to communicate how you feel?
do your feelings even matter if they aren’t for hope?
you think not.
or does the world think not?
what’s the difference, anyway?
sometimes, your friends look at you with concern and pity.
“makoto, are you okay?” is their usual question.
“of course,” you say, smiling brightly as always.
a lie, a dirty lie.
you grip on that lie, so hard that your hands begin to bleed.
you can’t release your grip even as your vision begins to blur.
you’re the ultimate hope, you are always okay.
faintly you can hear the shrill mimic of a “puhuhuhu”.