Chapter Text
The first time Makoto felt sleepy and weak, lying in Aigis’ arms as they were on the roof, he felt at peace. He had saved the world and his friends. They all remembered him and were coming to see him. Aigis was telling him to close his eyes and rest, and he desperately needed it. He blinked his eyes once, twice, before letting them fall shut.
He thought his time was over. Makoto had become the great seal; he could leave this place in peace.
When he woke up with a start from the train turning a corner, his headphones on his ears spewing his music into his ears, he was most definitely confused. When he saw the familiar green of the dark hour after he left the train station, his confusion only grew.
He had gone back to when he first got there. Makoto had no idea how that could have happened, but he knew it did.
When he got to the end of that year, and he had closed his eyes once again, he had woken up on the very same train as before.
Year after year, time after time, he tried to change fate. A fate that couldn't be changed. Every year, he watched his friends fight against the shadows on full moons. Every October, he watched Shinjiro die. Every December, he said goodbye to Ryoji. Every January, they fought Nyx Avatar. Every March, he died in Aigis' arms.
By the fourth time, they had reached the top of Tartarus and faced Ryoj-er…Nyx Avatar. He had tears in his eyes. Did he really have to do this again? Fight through this battle one more time?
As soon as a tear had fallen from his left eye, Aigis had spoken to him, “Makoto-san,” Makoto immediately moved to wipe at his eye.
“I'm fine,” He told her. He had to be. Fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. He could defeat Nyx Avatar once again.
And that's what he did. He defeated him once again. Then again, and again. He sealed Nyx from the rest of the world over and over again. He died in March once again.
Makoto had started to lose hope of ever finding peace when he woke back up on the train. He was numb to the movement of the train. He didn't get startled. He walked past the coffins like nothing was wrong. He tried his best to act like he knew nothing while summoning Orpheus for the seventh time. He spent the first three blocks of Tartarus completely oblivious before he finally started to loosen his obliviousness. His personas were so strong that they finished boss battles in mere minutes.
There was something else. There was no need to make friends anymore. He got their items, and he fused their personas. Half the time, he went back to the door to his room just to stare at the ceiling. When Pharos visited him, he was less than enthusiastic about it. When he tried to spend time with his party members, he would say the wrong things, and he would need to spend more time with them to end up at the next rank in their relationship.
When Shinjiro comes into the picture, he doesn't even know if he should try to save him. He doesn't know if he can bring himself to try again for the sixth time, just to watch him die again. Makoto can't do this anymore. He can't watch him die again.
Of course, he does die again. Fate brought him to his demise. There was nothing Makoto could have changed to save him. Why was he still here? Why did he still have to suffer?
He was at his breaking point. Seven years of watching him die. Seven years. He couldn't save him.
Makoto lost all hope for anything. He went to school, went straight to the dorm afterwards, and stayed in his room. He didn't talk to anyone, he barely ate, he barely slept. He pushed through during the dark hour, but something was wrong with him. He gave up on living. He spent his time existing and nothing else. His friends worried about him, and his teammates didn't know what was happening to him. His world was crashing down.
The one staple was November, when Ryoji came. Makoto had to watch him not remember anything. He hung out with him like normal, trying his best to appear normal, but his normal was muted now by his helplessness. On December 1st, Ryoji confessed, and Makoto couldn't come up with a response.
On December 31st, he had to tell Ryoji his decision. His decision to once again not kill him.
Ryoji was in their dorm in the evening, his teammates were all sure of their choice, and Makoto wasn't sure of his choice now. For seven years, Makoto had to suffer through this for seven years. A seventh time, he would have to rid himself of Ryoji for the last three months of his life before his inevitable demise and rebirth.
Would killing Ryoji fix the loop? Did the world want him to be selfish and choose that way out? Makoto could barely think right.
Makoto walked into his room to find Ryoji sitting on his bed. He sat down beside him, his gaze on the ground. He was pale, thin, and ghostly. He didn't look okay, and yet he tried his best to hide it. No one really noticed more than his sudden shift in October. Yet no one could really quite stare into his soul like the one who shared his body all those years.
“I want to kill you,” Makoto said. There was silence afterwards, and yet Makoto knew he had a shocked look on his face even when he wasn't looking at him. That wasn't what Ryoji had expected. Ryoji expected him to say that he refused.
Ryoji stayed silent for a moment, possessing just what he had said before his shock faded away. He had this sad look, almost pity, “That's not truly what you wish to do, is it?” He asked him. As much as Ryoji wished that was the truth, the truth was plain and simple. Makoto would not have wanted to kill him.
He cursed how much Ryoji knew about him. He wished Ryoji didn't know him as well as he knew him. He couldn't even properly lie to him, because Ryoji knew too much about him.
“I have to,” Makoto told him. He was at his wits’ end here. If Makoto had to go through another year of torture, he didn't know what would happen.
“You have to?” Ryoji was confused now. He had to? What made him have to kill him?
Makoto stayed silent, his hands clenched shut as his eyes fluttered shut. All he could see was his demise, then the train again. He couldn't do it anymore; he couldn't go through that torture one more time.
“If I don't do this, nothing will change.”
Ryoji was confused; with his memories back, he could remember snippets of their time together when he was Pharos, and how different he felt after he came to Iwatodai. He wasn't quite sure if it was experiencing the dark hour that made it different.That's what he had chalked it up to, but maybe he was wrong. It wasn't.
Makoto gulped. He had kept this secret for almost six years, was it finally time to tell someone?
He took a deep breath, turned to look at Ryoji, and spoke again, “I need you to trust me, trust that whatever I say, no matter how crazy it may sound, you will believe me.”
Ryoji seemed to take a couple of seconds to think, but then nodded his head softly, “I trust you.”
Makoto nodded his head, then turned to stare at the wall. He started to recall what happened the first time, how he had defeated him once he turned into Nyx Avatar, and had died peacefully in Aigis’ arms. How he woke back up on the train going to Iwatodai and had to relive it. How he had to live through that five more times until now, his seventh time being here. Every year, how he tried to save Shinjiro but failed, every year how he heard Ryoji confess to him only to bid him farewell on December 31st and fight him a month later. How he had started to lose hope of ever getting out of this loop, how this entire thing was driving him crazy.
He left out a couple of bits, parts that even he wasn't ready to say out loud. Moments where he would stand on the roof of the dorm or the school and wonder what it would have been like to jump off. If that would fix anything. Moments where he wished he was weak enough for shadows to finish him off. Moments where he had cried every time he faced him as Nyx Avatar. Moments when he had cried elsewhere, in a room by himself, as he tried to stop. When Ryoji confessed to him, parts of him wished he could just tell him yes and maybe…just maybe, he would feel something other than dread and despair.
He wanted to feel something other than the empty feeling in his stomach.
Ryoji knew there was more he wasn't telling him, but he would rather avoid pushing him any further, in case he would have done some irreversible damage.
“So, you believe that by killing me and giving you and your friends your last final months in peace, you will stop going through this loop?” Ryoji asked him.
Makoto just nodded, his eyes were trained on the floor.
“But you know that if you defeat me as Nyx Avatar, your friends will live on while you eventually end up back on that train when you first came here. If you kill me, your teammates and friends will die. No one will be able to stop Nyx then,” Mindful of his feelings, he tried speaking the truth in less of a way that would hurt Makoto. “Are you really willing to risk the death of your friends to try and fix this time loop?”
“You don't know that-”
“Makoto,” Ryoji spoke, his voice stayed even with a hint of concern. He let out a soft sigh, turning away to look out the window and shifting his position just a bit, “In the end, it's your decision. Whatever you choose is up to you.” He paused, then turned back to look at him, “But don't forget that you are responsible for your own actions, and whatever you do, you have to accept them.”
Pharos had said a similar thing to him when he first entered the dorm. He had lived through it enough times that the words were ingrained in his mind. He signed a contract saying that he was responsible for his own actions. This applies even here, with his choice to kill him or not.
If he didn't do it now, he’d have to wait another year to do it. Maybe in the end, they were all meant to die; maybe that's why it kept repeating. Maybe the Fall was supposed to happen.
Makoto stood up from his bed, shifting over to where he had left his one-handed sword that he used during the dark hour to fight shadows. He turned to look at Ryoji as he moved to stand up from the bed as well. He seemed to smile even at a time like this, but this particular smile was a lot sadder.
Makoto stood with his back straight, his eyes glancing at his weapon. Ryoji stood in front of him. If he didn't do this now, he would have to do it all over again…
“Before you kill me,” Ryoji spoke up, his voice quiet, “I just want you to know how much I loved our time together, and that I'm not taking this personally at all. You truly were wonderful to be around.”
Makoto’s hands started trembling as he stared at him. The constant threat of another year in the back of his head moved him forward. Kill him. Do it. It's what you want, isn't it? Do it. Kill him.
Makoto shook his head, and his sword fell from his hand and clattered on the ground. “I can't…” He said, his voice trembling along with his hands, “I can't do this. I can't kill you.”
Even though Ryoji was okay with it, a part of him still feared for his life. How unusual. Is this how it feels to be human? Ryoji moved closer, peering at his face. Was Makoto…
crying?
This was Makoto’s breaking point. This was the end of it all. He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't do this another time. His mind was done, his body was done, he was done. He didn't even realize he had started crying until the teardrops started to fall down onto his hands. Makoto hadn't cried until this entire thing had started. He almost thought he had cried more times now than he had when his parents died.
Ryoji wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know how. Any other time he wouldn't have hesitated, but he was afraid of Makoto pushing him away. He didn't want that, especially when he only had so long left in a human form. “Makoto,” He started to speak, trying to convey a comforting voice, “I'm with you for however much time I have left.” He glanced at the clock in the room. Six minutes till midnight. He had six minutes left being human. Gently, he reached his hand out to Makoto’s shoulder, expecting him to pull away almost immediately. He didn't. In fact, Makoto seemed to shift closer to him. Ryoji moved his other hand to his other shoulder, and Makoto caved in. He leans his forehead against Ryoji’s chest, and Ryoji ends up wrapping his arms around him. Not too high, not too low either, a healthy middle, right underneath his shoulder blades.
For however long he must have loved Makoto, was this truly the first time he was hugging him? Makoto seemed to like his personal space, and as much as he seemed to be a little too touchy at times, Makoto never seemed to tell him off about it. A couple of times, he noticed that he was uncomfortable, but he never said anything about it.
How ironic. Something that Ryoji had always wanted to do since his existence with Makoto, and he was doing it mere minutes before he turned into the monster that would inevitably try to cause their demise. How cruel the world was to put him in a situation like this. His fate was set from the moment he felt that small pang in his heart when he stared at him during class that one day.
Ryoji was doing one thing he had wanted to do since he felt something was wrong with Makoto. He wanted to be able to comfort him in any way, shape, or form. He wanted to be there for him in a way that others couldn't.
Ryoji looked at the clock. Five minutes till midnight.
Makoto seemed to realize the time too, because he had shifted his hand down to look at his watch from the position he was in. “Five minutes…” He muttered, lifting his head up from where it lay on Ryoji’s chest. He didn't move to wipe his tears like Ryoji had noticed most others did when they cried. Though he wasn't sure if his comparison was right because most of the people he had seen cry were girls. It may have been a Makoto-only thing after all. Makoto never seemed to cry, so maybe he just didn't know how to deal with tears.
“I know you have to leave,” Makoto started to speak, though he hadn't dared lift his head completely up to look at him, only keeping it low and staring at the ground, “I don't want you to. I'll have to wait another ten months to see you again. I'm not sure if I can do it again.”
“Makoto, I..” He didn't know how to respond to that, he didn't know what to say that could make everything feel better; he tried his best, grasping at straws. “I'll be waiting for you. I promise.”
Four minutes.
“Before you leave, can I ask you something?” Makoto asked, his hand had moved to wipe at his tears. His body had already started to turn back into his emotionless self, and his voice was starting to level out, “On December 1st, when you confessed…when you told me you wanted to be more than friends, I…” He trailed off, this talk wasn't exactly his forte, and he was still healing from what happened just a moment ago, “How does it feel? To like someone like that?”
That was a loaded question, one that Ryoji wasn't exactly expecting; he soaked it in, gulped, and even his cheeks started to tinge red. He was completely caught off guard. What did this mean?
He took a deep breath and started to recall it, “Well, it's complicated. It's like I look at you and I feel fond of you. Happy. You always made me happy. If there was something on my mind and my mood needed to be lifted, I could just glance at you, and it would feel like everything was okay. I wanted to spend time with you, too.” The more he spoke about it, the more this dumb, stupid smile seemed to go on his face. “Even if you tried to be normal around me, I knew something was wrong. I wanted to comfort you, I wanted to help you. I still do..”
“What makes it feel like you like me?” Makoto asked him. He seemed completely neutral, but there was this determination in his eyes like he needed to know, “How do you know it's not just platonic?”
Three.
Ryoji thought for a couple of seconds, then spoke again, “When I would flirt with those girls, I didn't mean it, not really,” Ryoji told him, “I didn't want it to be them. I wanted it to be you. I didn't realize that until later, when this girl tried to flirt back with me, and all I could think about was you and how wrong it felt that it was her. All those things Junpei raged on about, all those things that boys were supposed to do with girls, I wanted to do with you. I wanted to hold hands, go out on dates…I wanted to kiss you,” The more he spoke the darker shade of red seemed to be on his cheeks, “I want to kiss you, I-”
Ryoji looked at the clock.
Two.
“I have to go.”
Makoto understood that, obviously, Ryoji didn't want any of them to see him in whatever form he took after this. Still, he wanted him to stay, he wished he could stay with him till the end of this. Till the end of the world that he knew wasn't coming because he was going to stop it.
As Ryoji moved to the door Makoto’s eyes followed him, up until he got to the front of the door. It seemed like Ryoji was going to say something, probably something along the lines of how grateful he was to spend time with him, his final goodbye. Makoto had cut him off, though. “Ryoji,” He spoke, quiet and full of nerves.
Ryoji turned away from the door, looking back at him, “Yes, Makoto?”
Makoto gulped. He thought he could do this, but he couldn't even look him in the eyes, “I think…I think I may like you.”
Ryoji’s smile seemed to grow, but it turned into a sad one, “I'll see you in ten months,” And with that, he was gone.
Makoto stood there for a bit, staring at the door, and then migrated to his bed, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, the electricity turned off, and a green glow overtook his room.
He let out a sigh. What a new year.