Chapter Text
The boat glided away from the island, leaving behind the memories of the con they had just pulled off - the biggest one yet. The group was elated, still basking in the excitement of their success. Laughter and bottles of alcohol were shared among them, but Makoto couldn't bring himself to join in the celebration. His gaze was fixed on the island as it gradually disappeared into the black horizon. He felt numb, empty.
Just an hour ago, he had been on the brink of killing his own father. Would he have gone through with it? He couldn't help but think back to when he had thought he had actually killed Oz. The aftermath of that act had been devastating and the guilt had weighed heavily on him. Seeing his father kill Cynthia and Abby had pushed him to the brink of desperation, anger, sadness, and disgust all at the same time. It was only with the help of Akemi that he had been able to pull himself out of that dark place. But now he couldn't shake the question of whether or not he would have killed his father this time. Would he have helped Akemi to escape? He honestly didn't know a lot had happened in the last couple of months and he had a feeling that he would need some time to process everything.
Makoto felt tired, tired of the people laughing and celebrating around him, tired of pretending and even tired of himself as a person. He needed space, a break from everything.
The party went on in their hotel after arriving at the mainland. Cynthia was dragging a rather grumbly-looking Abby to what was apparently now the dance floor in the living room of the spacious hotel suite. Makoto had agreed to spend a bit more time with the group but he didn’t make an honest effort to engage in any social interaction.
After what could have been a few minutes or an hour, Makoto lost track of time while thinking about anything and nothing at all, Laurent sat down rather enthusiastically next to him. He was so close that Makoto could smell the alcohol on his breath but he was too tired to be bothered about it.
“Edamame, my Edamame,” Laurent started in his stupid happy tone. “What will you do now? You know I was thinking about going back to Europe. I might have a new target in Germany already. You have never been to Germany, right? While it is obviously not as romantic as France it does have its perks and most of the cities are actually quite beautiful. Would you be interested in joining me? You know it might come in handy to be married for this exact next con,” Laurent looked at him expectantly while wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you say? Would you do me the honour of being my fake husband?” His laugh was obnoxiously loud, and Makoto had to control himself not to cover his ears.
Normally he would come back with some snarky comment about how he would never marry Laurent even if they were the last two people on the earth. But right now he just didn’t have the energy to argue. All he did was sigh and excuse himself for going to bed.
He could have sworn that Laurent looked at him weirdly for a second, and the blond opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. All he got as a reply was a “Sleep tight my little soybean” and that was the end of it.
The next morning Makoto remained just as quiet, offering only a few pleasantries before saying his final goodbye. He took the first flight to Japan and arrived at his small, shabby apartment just as the sun was setting. He was too exhausted to even think about buying groceries or ordering takeout. All he could do was spread out his futon and close his eyes, wishing to be dead to the world for a while.
But he couldn't escape his thoughts and feelings. He couldn't shake off the emptiness and guilt that consumed him. He couldn't stop thinking about Oz and the things he had done. He couldn't stop thinking about how he had been used and manipulated by Laurent and the Yakuza. He felt like he had lost himself as a person in the process.
As the days passed, Makoto isolated himself even more from the world. He didn't want to see or talk to anyone. He didn't want to think about anything or feel anything. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts and his guilt. He didn't know how to move on from what had happened, and he didn't know how to forgive himself for auctioning those poor children, even if they did end up free in the end.
Makoto's guilt and self-doubt consumed him, causing him to question his own morality and whether he was capable of truly changing and living an honest life. After all he was the same as his father, wasn’t he? In the end he did help traffic those children, he did scam people for his own benefit, had done so for years at this point. If he was completely honest with himself, he couldn’t even blame Laurent for this, his life had taken an downward turn ever since his father had been arrested. But scamming people to pay the medical bills for his mum had been his own idea. He never was a good person to begin with.
As the days went by, Makoto spiralled deeper into his own mind. He was plagued by nightmares and flashbacks of the things he had done, and he felt like he was losing his grip on reality. He felt like he was stuck in a never-ending cycle of guilt and self-hatred.
He didn't know how to move on from what had happened, and he didn't know how to forgive himself. Time seemed to lose all meaning as hours blended into days and days turned into weeks. Makoto stopped charging his phone, as he saw no point in it. Nobody was trying to contact him the first few days after the con and he had no desire to reach out to anyone. So why bother to keep the phone charged and checking it every few hours? His trips to the grocery store became less frequent and he subsisted mostly on instant ramen or takeout if he remembered to eat at all. He spent most of his days staring at the ceiling, the tatami floor, or out of the window, watching the world go by the rise and sinking of the sun but feeling disconnected from it all.
Makoto was exhausted, but he was too scared to sleep. The faces of the children he had sold off to strangers haunted him. They had been scared while Makoto told them to smile and then sold the off to people who did god knows what with them. Whenever he didn’t dream of the children he saw his friends being shot and drowned. Abby, Cynthia, Oz and even Laurent, he was unable to do anything while the life drained out of the people he would consider the closest thing he had to a family. He couldn't escape the emotional aftermath of his actions and the feeling that he was unable to protect the people around him. He turned to smoking as a way to cope, going through a whole pack a day. Getting cigarettes was the highlight of his everyday life and the only reason he would leave his apartment, grabbing some food while he was already out. When he was awake, he was able to numb his mind and avoid thinking about the past, living in a fog, going through the motions of life without truly feeling anything at all.
But as the weeks went by, Makoto came to realize that this way of living was not sustainable. He couldn't keep running away from his past and his guilt forever. He couldn't keep living in a fog, hiding from the world and from himself. He knew that he needed to confront his past and his guilt head-on and that he needed to find a way to forgive himself and move on. He owed it to himself to at least try.
However, he was somewhat aware that he couldn’t do this alone. His interior drive was gone, there was no motivation left to do anything other than eat and sleep and even that failed sometimes. He knew that he needed help at this point, that he needed to talk to someone, to open up and be honest about his feelings and struggles. He wasn’t completely stupid and if he was honest with himself his lack of feelings sometimes scared him a bit. He should try and reach out to his not-friends friends, maybe text Abby or Cynthia or even Laurent and ask for some form of advice if he couldn’t ask directly for support
After much contemplation, Makoto finally turned his phone back on. He was expecting a few texts from his friends but was surprised to find a large number of messages. They started off casually, with some comments from Abby and Cynthia from a few weeks prior. Then there were calls from Kudo, followed by more calls and texts from all three of them.
They weren't reaching out to him for a new con, they were telling him everyday things about their lives, what they were doing and asking how he was doing in return. At least in the beginning. The more recent texts were more on the threatening side, asking why he wasn't responding to any of them and why the messages weren’t getting delivered. Where was he? What was he doing? Makoto felt weird looking at the messages.
Then there were texts from Laurent, asking the same questions. Makoto frowned, he knew this behaviour was unusual for the team. They had always treated him as just a puppet, someone to keep in the dark and use for their cons, but never someone they truly cared about.
He scrolled down to the last message that had been sent this morning. It was a picture from Laurent showing him at an airport. No text just the picture. Laurent was smiling brightly in the selfie but if Makoto squinted, he thought he could make out dark circles under the French man's eyes. Were there more wrinkles surrounding his eyes as well? His hair was a mess, but it looked more on the actual mess side rather than the normal fashionable-mess he was used to. He shook his head, surely, he was overanalyzing this, his mind already overthinking every possibility.
Feeling overwhelmed by the influx of messages and calls, Makoto decided to respond to them later. He needed a smoke, so he grabbed his almost-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sat up on his futon, and lit a cigarette. He knew he would need to go out to buy more cigarettes soon, and maybe even grab some dinner on his way back.
As he smoked his cigarette, Makoto couldn't help but feel touched by his friends' messages. He realized that he had underestimated the depth of their relationship and how much they actually seemed to cared for him. He felt slightly guilty for how he behaved on their last night together and how he kept ignoring them ever since.
Determined to make amends, Makoto decided to answer at least some of the messages. He started with Cynthia, knowing that she would be the easiest to talk to and would most likely understand his reasons him. He typed out a quick message, apologizing for not responding sooner and explaining that he was going through a tough time and needed some space and time to himself but that he would like to catch up with all of them soon. He left the message rather vague, not wanting to go into too much detail about his current mental and physical condition. That would have to do, at least now they knew he was still alive.
His thumb lingered over the send button before finally pressing it. He shut his phone back off immediately after, dreading a message or even a call from Cynthia. He would answer the others later.
Just sending this one message had put his stomach in knots of anxiety. What was wrong with him? Feeling the need to get out of his apartment, Makoto quickly threw on a somewhat clean shirt and some jeans lying on the floor, not bothering with actually showering. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a knock on the door. Makoto froze, his heart racing. His mind went back to the picture Laurent had sent this morning, him at an airport...
He wasn't ready to see anyone yet, to interact with people again outside of paying for stuff he bought. He didn't know what to say or how to explain himself. He didn't know if he was ready to confront his past yet.
But the knock persisted, and Makoto knew that he couldn't ignore it forever. Why did he send a text to Cynthia? If this really was Laurent he would know now that he was in fact home, he was sure by this time Cynthia had told the others about his answer. How could he be so foolish?
Readying himself for the worst, Makoto took a deep breath and opened the door. To his surprise, it wasn't any of his friends standing outside, but a delivery man with a small package. Without saying a word, the delivery man handed Makoto the package and left.
Makoto closed the door and sat down on his futon his heart hammering in his chest still. He examined the package confused and slightly curious. Inside, he found a book and a note from Laurent. The note, written in Laurent's elegant handwriting, simply read: "Words help us make sense of things."
Makoto stared at the note in confusion, before reaching for the book. It was a leather-bound notebook, but all the pages were empty. He couldn't help but feel a sense of suspicion and confusion towards Laurent's gesture. Dumbfounded he stared at the note again but there was no hidden message in the sentence. Nothing on the back either.
What was he supposed to do with this? Was this another way of Laurent, trying to haul him into some kind of con? Makoto sat with the notebook in hand, unsure of how to feel or what to do next. If this was a con who would he be playing now, an author? Makoto actually laughed at the thought, maybe he was even a bit hysteric thinking about being part of a new scheme, who knew.
Staring at the notebook and the note written in familiar handwriting, Makoto couldn't shake off the feeling of hope that was growing within him. Maybe, just maybe, Laurent's intention wasn't to trick or use him but to genuinely help and support him. He began to see that Laurent's gesture could be a way for him to make sense of his past, express himself, and to start healing. Maybe this was a sign, an opportunity for him.
With this newfound hope, Makoto decided to give Laurent's gesture a chance. He began to write in the notebook, jotting down his thoughts and feelings about his past, his overpowering emotions and then the lack of any emotions at all. He wrote about the children, the friends he had thought he lost, the betrayal from his father, the things he had done and the things he had regretted. He wrote about the guilt and fear that consumed him, and the struggles he faced to move on.
As he wrote, Makoto felt a sense of catharsis and release. He felt like he was finally able to understand and make sense of his past at least to some extent. He tried to be honest with himself and express himself as much as he could without triggering any too painful memories. He realized that Laurent's gesture was not just a notebook and a note, but a way for him to start healing, or at least he choose to interpret it this way for his own state of mind. It was a chance for Makoto to start anew.
The words just seemed to come out of him all of the sudden. What had started slowly, almost hesitant quickly became some form a word vomit, his mind racing with things he wanted to say. He hadn’t realized there had been so much on his mind, his thoughts were racing as if the dam had been broken and he no longer had any other option than to face what happened.
Makoto felt a spark of hope grow in his chest, maybe just maybe Laurent's intention wasn't to trick him or use him. Maybe Laurent was genuinely trying to help him and support him.
After a while of writing, Makoto's stomach growled, drawing his attention to the darkness outside. He couldn't recall how long he had been lost in thought, but a glance at the clock above the kitchenette revealed that it was 10 pm. It wasn’t too late, and he decided to make a quick trip to the convenience store down the street. As he left his apartment in a rush, he left the notebook and all its contents behind, feeling a sense of release and lightness. He couldn't decide if it was the act of writing or the lightheadedness caused by the hunger that had cleared his mind from its repressing fog but he was glad regardless.
At the store, Makoto grabbed whatever instant food caught his eye without much thought. However, as he approached the cashier, his eyes caught sight of fresh vegetables. The idea of cooking a simple curry, something he had not done in a long time, brought a smile to his face. He quickly gathered the ingredients and headed back to his apartment after paying for the food as well as some cigarettes, feeling drained from the brief interaction with people. He would cook the curry and then try to get some sleep before the sun came back up again. His keys jiggled as he pushed the apartment door open, a small but tired smile still on his face.
As Makoto cooked the curry, he felt a sense of normalcy and familiarity. He realized that he had been living in a state of detachment and numbness for so long, that he had forgotten what it felt like to be alive. He simply had been running away from his past instead of facing it.
He sat down to eat feeling a sense of gratitude. He was grateful for Laurent's gesture and all the messages he had gotten from the others. He would definitely turn on his phone tomorrow and try to reach out again, but not today, he was too tired today. But as soon as he realized that he wanted to text Laurent as well he pushed these specific emotions and thoughts away. No, Laurent had used him over and over again. A little notebook wouldn’t change that. However, Makoto did feel grateful for the small moments of normalcy that he had experienced today, like cooking a simple curry and eating it.
He felt hopeful for the first time since they finished the con. Maybe he could reconnect with his idea of an honest life? Try to find some nice coffee blends or even open a café on his own. He had enough money for anything he wanted to do, so why just sit around in his apartment. Maybe he could actually find a sense of purpose and meaning in his life.
Makoto understood that the road to healing would be long and difficult, but he was determined to do whatever it took to move on, even if it meant taking baby steps. However, his resolve was put to the test when he heard a knock at the door for the second time that day. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was just after midnight, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread, surely this wasn’t another delivery guy.
Trying to swallow the lump in his throat he went to the apartment door and opened it a gap. And sure enough, there he was smiling down at him without a care in the world.
Makoto's breath hitched as he slammed the door shut, unable to process the overwhelming emotions of betrayal, confusion and fear. This had been some kind of trick, it had to be. The notebook was just the start of some new con. How could he have thought anything else. He sank down to the floor, his back pressed against the wood of the door.
"Edamame? Why did you close the door again? Don't tell me you don't recognize me," came the too-familiar voice from the other side. "If you don't let me in I'll let myself in. You know it was just out of politeness that I knocked. I did make a key for your apartment a few years back." Laurent said in his uncaring, cheerful tone.
He couldn't believe that Laurent had the audacity to come to his apartment, uninvited and unannounced, and pretend as nothing had happened. He felt a surge of anger as he got up, ready to confront Laurent and demand answers. But as Makoto opened the door, he saw the genuine look of remorse and concern on Laurent's face. However, as soon as he tried to look closer, Laurent's confident and arrogant smile was back, and the emotions were gone.
Makoto felt a mix of emotions, anger, betrayal, confusion, and fear. He couldn't decide if he was being played or not. He didn't know what to believe or who to trust. He couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe he was missing some information. That there were things he wasn’t aware of.
Makoto didn't know what to say or how to react. He felt overwhelmed and unsure. But ultimately the tiredness washed over him again and he fully opened the door for Laurent indifferent to the lies the older man would be telling him. This was how his life went anyway, why fight it? He stepped aside, letting Laurent in and closing the door behind him.
He gestured for Laurent to take a seat and sat down across from him at the little table. Following Laurent’s gaze around the room he just now realized how dirty his apartment was. The table was littered with unopened mail, empty take-out boxes and cigarette stumps. The floor was covered with unwashed clothes and there were dirty dishes everywhere. He sighed and cursed himself internally, how had he not realized what a mess this place was?
Readjusting his eyes, he took a deep breath and asked, "What's going on, Laurent? Why are you here?”
Laurent hesitated for a moment, looking around the apartment again before turning his attention back to Makoto. It seemed like he was choosing his word carefully, thinking about the right way to approach the topic. He took a deep breath and said, "I know I have no right to be here, and I know I have no right to ask anything from you, but I hope you can hear me out." Makoto snorted at this.
“Damn right that you have no right to be here” he murmured but either Laurent didn’t hear him or choose to ignore the side comment.
The blond leaned forward and continued, "I know what happened with the Yakuza was… less than ideal for you. It has been brought to my awareness that I have used you in a way that might have hurt you. Apparently, I used your past, morals and good intentions for my own gain, and I’ve lied and betrayed you. And for that, I am truly sorry." His voice was clear and slow, trying to make sure that Makoto understood each word.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Laurent sounded sincere and maybe even remorseful. Makoto stared at him and thought he could see the pain and guilt in the older man’s eyes. He didn't know what to say or how to react, but he felt like he should at least hear him out before throwing him out of the apartment.
Laurent continued, "I know I can't change the past, and I know I can't make it right, but I am willing to try. I have a hunch that you aren’t doing, how should I say, great right now.” He paused his gaze on the messy table in front of him before he looked up to meet Makoto’s eyes.
“Maybe, I could help you, you know with… stuff. I can be there, I mean we could be, you know… It could be good for you.” Laurent suddenly didn’t seem so sure of himself anymore and Makoto had to admit that he didn’t understand what the blond was trying to convey. Maybe his English had gotten worse from not using in for some weeks?
As Makoto listen to Laurent’s stutter (he didn’t know how else to describe it), his mind ran in circles. He didn't know what to say, was he even supposed to give an answer? He needed to process everything that Laurent tried to say. Could he trust him? Did he want to trust him? Yes, he felt like he did want to but he needed time to think first. This was so unlike Laurent. He would never come to Japan just to apologize to Makoto, there had to be some kind of catch. This was too easy.
He looked up at Laurent, swallowed and said, "I don't know what to say, Laurent. I don't know what to think. I don’t trust you, not after…,” Makoto’s voice trailed off and his eyes unfocused while memories were playing in his mind. “What do you really want? I told you I am done with the cons. I want to live an honest life. Maybe open a café or something I don’t know”
Laurent just looked at him, his easy-going smile frozen on his lips and frowning. His eyes wandered through the small room again landing on the put with curry. “I see you already had dinner, why don’t we get ready for the night? You don’t mind me spending the night here right? I wasn’t able to book a hotel this last minute.” His tone was neutral, maybe even friendly.
They both knew the hotel thing was a lie, Laurent had lots of money, maybe even an apartment here in Tokyo, who knew. But Makoto decided not to address it. He was too tired for this. The last 12 hours had been more eventful than the last two weeks combined and all he wanted to do was lie down and shut the world out for a bit.
“I’ll get you a set of blankets,” he murmured and got up, cleaning some of the dirty laundry off of the floor on his way.
Laurent watched Makoto as he got up, a small smile still on his face. He could see that Makoto was hurting, he didn’t even try to hide it. Edamame was obviously still angry at him, but he also knew that Makoto would come around eventually. He was a patient man, and he was willing to wait for Makoto to forgive him. He knew that he had hurt the younger man deeply, but he also knew that Makoto was the person he wanted to spend time with the mist, that he couldn't lose him completely out of his own selfishness.
As Makoto came back with a set of blankets and a pillow, Laurent stood up and helped him make a bed on the floor. They didn't say anything to each other, but there was a sense of understanding between them.
Makoto lay down on his futon after turning off the lights and Laurent lay down next to him. He waited for the younger breath to even out, which took longer than he had expected before he whispered into the dark "I know that you're hurting, and I know that you're angry with me. But please know that I'm here for you, and that I'll always be here for you. I'll do anything to make things right, Makoto. Just tell me what you need."
Makoto didn't reply, opting to continue to act as if he was sleeping. He hoped that Laurent was telling the truth, that he would be there for him, but it was hard to actually believe him. He felt like only time would tell if Laurent was honest or if he was using him again. But for now, he was just glad that Laurent was here with him and that he wasn't alone, even if it was hard to admit to himself. He drifted off to sleep, feeling a sense of peace wash over him