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Nights are warm in Singapore. They’re the kind of nights that entice people to stay up, now that the responsibilities of the day are over and they finally have time to themselves. Hours spent talking, drinking, partying, what have you. When you’ve spent all day working your ass off to swindle a man who could no doubt have you killed within seconds, they’re particularly welcoming. But still, no one can stay up until dawn every night, and certainly not when you have priorities in the morning.
Makoto and Abbie are the last ones remaining. Everyone else has gone to bed. He looks at her, the warm glow of the lights illuminating her face. She’s beautiful. He wishes he could talk to her, and learn more about the pain she hides beneath those fierce eyes; why she wants to die. But she doesn’t want to talk to him. So instead, he decides to leave.
“Well, I’m heading to bed too,” he announces as he stands up. He doesn’t wait for her response as he begins making his way to the room he’s staying in.
He hears her voice behind him. “Yeah, whatever. You don’t need to tell me. You don’t need my permission, you fuckin’ virgin.”
Makoto pauses. He doesn’t turn back around, but he hears her make a small noise—one of confusion, surprise even. It was barely audible. She had tried to hide it.
Truthfully, he couldn’t tell you why he stopped. He’s used to these retorts of hers, and usually he can just brush them off. He’ll argue against her claim, and everyone will laugh at him, because they don’t believe him—because Laurent still gets a kick out of making him squirm. They don’t believe him and he sits there as the shame eats away at his core before he brushes it off and ignores it, because there’s no point and nothing he can do and everyone will probably just laugh at him more.
But everyone isn’t here tonight. Tonight there’s just him and Abbie roasting in the summer heat, and it’s getting to his head.
“Would you stop with that?” he finds himself saying, his hands curling into fists.
Abbie barks out a laugh. “Maybe I will if you finally do something about it. I know Laurent is dying to—”
“Shut up,” involuntarily, he pulls his shoulders closer to himself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There is silence from behind him. He can’t see her face, but he knows he’s caught her off guard—something he ordinarily could never dream of. She doesn’t say anything, and the silence just about kills him. He shouldn’t have let himself snap like that. Fucking Singapore nights.
She’s curious, he can tell, but she doesn’t back down. She feels she’s been challenged. “Please, you and I both know that—”
He whips back around to face her, unable to fight the feeling of anger and shame burning in his chest. Her face drops, going from cool and unbothered to surprised—shaken in a matter of moments. She looks almost uneasy. She doesn't know what he means. She’s used to being the one in control.
“Really, Abbie, you should know better. I’ve been to prison twice, and you think I somehow managed to keep my virginity through all of that? Get real,” he taunts. He doesn’t like to be mean, but he can’t stop the venom from seeping into his voice.
And Abbie tenses up, hearing that. She goes rigid in a way that’s almost satisfying to Makoto. He finally knows something she doesn’t. He’s not the one being kept in the dark for once.
She doesn’t say anything as she settles back into her usual collected demeanor, and all of that satisfaction instantly vanishes . He’s standing there—his face flushed red and his brow furrowed in a way he knows he’d get teased for because it’s cute, and he hates that—and she’s as composed and unreadable as ever. Just when he thought he was finally starting to understand her. He’ll never be the one in control.
He scoffs, turning on his heel. He wished he knew how to hold his tongue. “Forget I said anything.”
“Wait,” he hears. There is underlying urgency in her voice—the smallest, almost untraceable hint. Now it’s his turn to not say anything. He hears her stand up and her footsteps approach him. They stop right behind him. His nails dig into his palms.
“I know what your impression of me is, but there are lines I do not want to cross,” she says. He knows what she means.
“Well you don’t have to worry about that,” he bites, “because it’s not like that. I’m just amazed you hadn’t caught on, that’s all. That’s why I said it. That’s all.”
It’s as blatant of a lie as ever. He feels stupid. He’s ‘Japan’s greatest conman’ and everyone can see right through him. It’s amazing that he’s ever managed to swindle anyone, really. But he knows that his skills as a con artist aren’t actually why he’s here.
Abbie doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “Was it—”
“It was as consensual as it can be when you’re in prison. So don’t fucking worry about it.”
He isn’t one to swear. It doesn’t suit him. But he can feel her staring holes in his back and it’s nauseating. He wishes he had never opened his mouth.
“What do you mean?” She asks. There’s a joke about his accent in there somewhere, but she doesn’t make one. She sounds suspicious. He doesn’t know how he could make it any clearer. She’s smarter than he is.
He turns back around and faces her. Their faces are uncomfortably close. He looks her dead in the eye. “I did what I had to do to survive.”
She takes a step back, taking in the smallest bit of air—almost a gasp, but not quite. She nearly stumbles, but she catches herself. “What—?”
“You’re choosing now to be dumber than me? Really?” It’s mean, and he knows it, but he can’t find it in him to care. His soul is bruised, and her words press down onto it, reminding him of all of his old wounds that never really healed. “You know what I mean. I know I’m not particularly confident, but I know where my strengths lie, and I know that one of them is my looks. Cute, slender, boyish charm. I don’t look a day over 19. I was 19 the first time. That’ll get you a lot of favors in prison.”
As Abbie registers this, she looks almost…hurt. If he didn’t know her, he’d think it was guilt. “I—”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. We both know why I’m here. None of you actually need me for this job. You could do it without me. It’s like you said in LA. I’m here because Laurent thinks with his dick. And I’ve accepted that, so you don’t need to feel bad about it.”
Abbie doesn’t try to argue with him. She knows he’s right, and she’s not the type to try and spare anyone’s feelings.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
But before he can turn back around, Abbie speaks:
“Did you want to?”
Makoto bites the inside of his cheek. This is a trap.
“In prison. Did you want to do those things?” She reiterates, as if she’s afraid of the word sex or something—or perhaps she doesn’t want to admit that yes, he went all the way, so no, he’s not a virgin. He really isn't.
“Of course not. But I said yes. So you have nothing to worry about.”
She crosses her arms. “And if you had decided to say no, would they have let you?”
He doesn’t answer, because it’s a trap. Because the answer is ‘no, and I wouldn’t get anything either.'
But his lack of answer is an answer in and of itself.
“So you’re still a virgin,” she says confidently. And then she walks past him, leaving him standing there. Because of course she gets the last word.
But as she reaches the end of the hall, she stops, and then looks over her shoulder. “And for the record, I am sorry that happened to you. There are lines that I do not cross.”
And then she’s gone.
Makoto is the last one to go to bed that night. She acts like her usual self in the morning, and picks on him like always. It’s like the conversation they had last night never happened, except now when he catches her eyes, there’s a solemn understanding in them. In all honesty, Makoto prefers it that way. Everything stays as it was. Nothing changes. Except now, when she makes fun of him for being a virgin, it has a whole new meaning. He's almost appreciative.