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Sousuke moves around the kitchen, throwing together the semblance of a breakfast. Yesterday they were lucky to have found some cereal, though the milk has turned sour already. This will have to be enough, for now.
For a moment, Sousuke remembers the days when the breakfast table would be full of fruits, pancakes, eggs, butter, muffins, whichever he wanted his mother would have provided for him. He hadn’t understood back them how precious those moments with his family were, the only thing in his mind being winning swimming competitions and making himself feel worth it.
If he had known the first thing he did with those golden medals was to sell them to faceless people in an exchange for food, he would have eaten a lot more – who knows, maybe even turned into a chubby nerd kid, who played video games all day instead of working so hard.
Sometimes Sousuke thinks he is losing his mind in so many what ifs. But the silly thoughts help to calm his mind for what is coming next.
Blinking, the image in Sousuke’s eyes fade and he glances around himself. For a moment, he had forgotten the low, artificial light in the kitchen, the dark, sturdy pieces of wood blocking the view on the windows, and the dirty, broken furniture all around the room. The cabinets are open and unfortunately empty, proof that people have taken shelter in this place before.
Sousuke puts cereal in two bowls and adds the milk, gently mixing the contents together with a spoon, mindful of not making any noises. It doesn’t hurt to be careful, at all times. With bows in each hand, Sousuke moves upstairs.
The bedroom is dark and the only light is coming from the corridor, but Sousuke can make out the silhouette of the other man, still lying on his side, holding his limbs like an infant, back to the door. The stillness in his body makes Sousuke unease, a heavy feeling sitting in his gut.
Warily, Sousuke approaches his friend, puts the bowls on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch Makoto’s hair. The texture is still soft, never mind the fact that they have lived without a bottle of shampoo and conditioner for a while now.
“Makoto, are you awake?” he whispers.
As an answer, Makoto moves to lie like a ball, protecting himself from the world.
“It’s time to eat. We have to move soon.”
“There’s a bed here, a shelter.”
With a ghost of a smile, Sousuke replies while caressing the strands of Makoto’s hair. “I know, but I don’t trust this place; it’s too open, too easy for anyone to break in, honestly. I think other may people have been in here already, who knows if they are planning on coming back? We need to go.”
After a moment, Makoto murmurs. “Why?”
His words make Sousuke’s stomach sink, and he holds in a sigh. So today is one of those days. Sousuke should have known – Makoto has been too quiet lately, and that is never a good sight. Somehow, though, Sousuke is always taken by surprise when Makoto is in a mood like this one – when everything is bad and feels like giving up. Tuning out his own sorrow, he tries to calm down, to think of the good moments. One of them has to, anyway.
Since the breakfast will have to wait, Sousuke stretches his body on the bed, spooning Makoto from behind, chest to back, and he can feel Makoto’s warmth through the layers of clothes. He half expects Makoto to move away from him but relaxes a little when Makoto doesn’t even flinch. Once he is comfortable in the knowledge that Makoto will stay put, he asks, “why not?”
“There’s only death out there.”
Sousuke makes a noise of agreement, and when he speaks his lips brush over Makoto’s skin. “I know, but there is only death for us in this place if we stay as well. Besides, we haven’t traveled over the whole country yet. We have a lot of places to see.”
“Those imaginary places, they all look the same to me,” Makoto speaks in a soft voice.
Sousuke winces then curse himself for it. It isn’t Makoto’s fault for being sad, depressed. His words shouldn’t hurt so much, especially since Makoto has said them over and over again. It isn’t like Sousuke himself doesn’t feel that way sometimes, like everything is gray and ordinary, lifeless.
Shaking a little, Makoto murmurs “I miss them.”
Shutting his eyes, Sousuke brings Makoto closer to his body, because maybe if he holds tight he can keep him. If he holds tight to him, his demons will go away, but Sousuke doesn’t stand a chance of winning when their worst enemy is Makoto himself.
It’s moments like these that Sousuke wishes Haruka, of all people, were still alive.
Sure, he had hated the boy in life, hated with a hatred that made his skin burn and his eyes hurt, because Haruka had everything Sousuke had ever wanted – Makoto’s devotion, Rin’s attention, a bright future with a swimming career.
Sousuke knows that Makoto loves – loved – Haruka like a brother, unconditionally. The swimmer had been his family, just like the twins and his parents.
The thing is that Sousuke has never had that a relationship like that, not even on the best days of his friendship with Rin. There had always existed a giant Haruka-shaped cloud above their heads.
So yeah, even feeling like a dick about it, Sousuke still envies Makoto and Haruka’s lost relationship. He can’t help it. Even after so long, the twisted feeling called jealousy is still carved deep into his heart. He wholehearted wished he could understand Makoto’s head with easy, maybe convince him to wake up each day with a smile on his face.
He can picture it clearly. If Haruka, Rin, Rei and the blond one, Nagisa, had been here, Makoto would be out of this bed already. They were a team, and Sousuke wasn’t a part of it; had never been, not really. Makoto would be out of this bed, and his heart wouldn’t be so broken.
And still, Makoto is stuck with him, of all people.
The way things are, Sousuke feels so small, so unworthy. Because the others could have done it, could have kept Makoto happy. Sousuke’s presence is not enough to drive Makoto out of this bed and into the car. No matter what he does, what he says, everything in him is just not enough. He can keep playing pretend, but he fools no-one, not even himself. Makoto is slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.
So he lies, the words leaving an unpleasant feeling in his guts. “I miss them too, but they would have wanted you to live, Makoto. Rin, Haruka, Nagisa, Rei…”
“Don’t – please.” Makoto reaches out and touches Sousuke’s forearms. “Not today.”
Surprised, Sousuke sits up and tries to catch a glimpse Makoto’s face, climbing over him and settling on the other side of the bed. “Is it today? Makoto, tell me.”
Green eyes stare at him from under the thin blankets. “Yes.”
They stare at each other for a moment too long and Sousuke takes a harsh intake of breath. Sousuke forgot. How could he forget?
Two years ago, at this date, they were ambushed by an army of zombies in the middle of a competition in the coach Sasabi’s swim school, and after that, they had watched their friends, one by one, suffer and eventually die. In the end, he and Makoto were the only ones of their group to make it out of the situation alive – for now at least. It had been way earlier on the apocalypse, the streets in Iwatobi still secure, but that was until a terrorist, killed after the incident by the government, spread the virus in a gas form all around the town that day.
And then the hell had begun to break loose.
And Sousuke forgot the date.
Suddenly, the memory comes flooding back to him, and the visions of blood, fire, hunger, desperation are too much. Sousuke pushes away from the bed and runs to the bathroom across the corridor, barely getting there before throwing away the dinner from the night before.
He feels the tears tracking down his cheeks, and brings a hand to harshly clean his face, he doesn’t want Makoto to see him like this, but the soon enough he is sobbing into his hands and knees, sitting on the dirty bathroom floor.
He can’t be strong and never cry, like Makoto. Instead, he lets it all out, like the broken, useless thing that he is.
Fuck, he feels awful, worse by the sickening thoughts that had been on his head earlier, because Sousuke does miss them. Fuck, he misses them so much. But he misses his team more, Rin, Gou, Nitori and Momo’s smiling faces flashing like neon signs inside his mind.
After a while, he feels fingers carding through his hair, hands tracing slow patterns on his back, and he leans into Makoto, hiding his face in his neck. Makoto hugs him, protects Sousuke from the world for a little bit because that is what he does. He cares about others when he himself can barely stand.
“I am so sorry, I am so sorry,” Sousuke sobs over and over again. It doesn’t matter that he and Makoto are almost the same size, he feels infinitely safer when the man is around, touching him.
“I am sorry I reminded you,” is the answer, gentle fingers pushing his hair out of his forehead. “You were in a good mood earlier, weren’t you? I should have left the past in the past for once.”
“No, I should have – I –”
Makoto touches the back of his neck gently. “I know… but you are more sensitive than me. It’s my job to take care of you.”
I fucking love you, Makoto. I love you so much, I would do anything to keep you alive and happy, Sousuke thinks, not daring to say the words out loud. He shakes his head and hugs his friend tighter instead.
___________________
It feels like it happened in another lifetime – when the possibility of a nice future was still likely. When there was hope, excitement, and things like romance and teenage angst.
But, to be fair, Sousuke also isn’t sure how it started.
He wants to blame his naivety, but maybe the answer is simpler than that.
Maybe it was because they were always thrust together on their friend’s gatherings since everyone else seemed to be paired up or wanted to use the free time to catch up with someone else. Maybe it was the way Makoto would smile at him sometimes, all bright, amused eyes and wild, wet hair, making Sousuke feel like he belonged somewhere, even if it was just during the holidays.
After high school, unlike their friends Rin and Haruka who wanted to go pro, Makoto and Sousuke ended up choosing the same major, though applying to different schools across the country. They had wanted to teach people to swim, to help other people achieve their dream.
To be honest, Sousuke wasn’t that excited about it, back then. The choice had been taken from him because of his injured shoulder. But forward he had gone, trying to hold onto the amorphous shape a new dream.
So he and Makoto had things to talk about when they were back in Iwatobi on summer vacations or text sometimes during the academic year. It was good to have someone to lean on, someone who understood the different subjects he was learning in college, even if through the internet. Sousuke didn’t make friends easily, and he cherished the friendship with the brunet, whichever small that bond seemed to be. Makoto was more outgoing, and he had Haruka by his side in Tokyo, but he still texted him at least once a week, to check on him, see how Sousuke was doing. It warmed Sousuke inside.
He never discussed this with Rin, or with anyone, really. He kept his friendship with Makoto, his feelings, and his doubts, all to himself.
When they were blessedly at home, all the boys would spend time together, go out for ice creams, walks on the beach under the moonlight, video games competition, dinner at each other’s houses.
Makoto would stick close to Sousuke though, sitting beside him on the booths while drinking chocolate milkshake, their shoulders brushing and arms touching, chattering and making him company in the kitchen when it would be Sousuke’s turn to cook for the team, lying beside him on the couch while watching action movies, legs warm and tight against one another.
Mostly, though, they would all meet in coach Sasabe’s swim school.
The others would be competing, Rin and Haruka going for blood on the swimming pool trying to beat the other, Rey and Nagisa talking science and weird things, Gou taking random notes somewhere, Momo and Nitori cheering and generally making loud, annoying noises.
The whole scene was not exactly Sousuke’s cup of tea, since he couldn’t compete anymore, not even for fun, so he would stick to the sidelines, sitting on the edges of the other side of the pool, moving his feet softly into the cold water and keeping to himself. The first time Makoto joined him was a surprise, but after that, Sousuke started secretly hoping for the quiet moments they would share.
“They never learn, do they?”
Makoto asks and sits by his side, offering a water bottle, wet hair plastered to his forehead and a shy smile on his face.
“They behave like kids,” Sousuke answered truthfully, drinking the water while simultaneously giving Momo a glare when the young man attempt to push Nitori into the pool. Momo catches Sousuke looking and lets go of Nitori, putting his hands in the air and making an innocent face. “Thanks,” he adds to Makoto, shaking the plastic bottle.
“Does that make you their dad figure?”
“Let’s hope not. I would expect my kids to behave better than them,” Sousuke makes a disgusted face just to make Makoto laugh, and when he succeeds something liquid hot flutters inside him. He gives Makoto a small smile and lowers his head, hiding his faint blush.
“Are you coming back to Iwatobi once you graduate?”
Sousuke stares at the other boy. Truthfully, Sousuke’s life hasn’t been centered in Iwatobi, it just happens that Rin and his closer friends are here for now. He answers “I am not sure. Why?”
Makoto stares at the pool ahead, not meeting Sousuke’s eyes, “because I have been thinking.”
Sousuke doesn’t know Makoto that well, but he knows, with a sharp realization, that this is not their usual kind of conversation. Makoto’s being oddly serious, so Sousuke feels nervous all of a sudden. He doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps quiet.
Makoto glances at him sideways and tilts his head to the side. “You want to work with older children, right, like teens?”
Not really knowing where this is going, Sousuke nods.
The other boy looks at his hands. “Well, I really want to help little kids with swimming. I found that when I was helping Coach Sasabe with training during High School. So, I was thinking…”
“Yeah…”
“We could maybe work together. Once we graduate, I mean.”
Makoto speaks and immediately flushes, looking sheepish, but holds Sousuke’s gaze. “See, we could work with children with different ages. I know that you will do fine with the older ones, even if you might scare them into obedience like you just did with Momo,” his voice waves while saying the words, but then he seems to steel himself “but you will also be kind to them. I know that.”
Sousuke isn’t sure he heard this right, so he frowns. “Why would you want to work with me?”
Then “Are you thinking this far ahead?” Because seriously, they still are in their second year of college. Makoto can’t be serious.
And “Why me, of all people?”
The redness has left Makoto’s cheeks, and now the boy has a soft, knowing smile on his face and a different glint in his gorgeous eyes. “What do you mean you, of all people? We have known each other for a few years, we chose the same major. We share the same interests when it comes to swimming. I think we could be good partners.”
“Besides, it’s hard to start anything by yourself. If we have each other, I think it can be less worrisome and more fun.”
Right then, a loud cheer comes from the other side of the room, distracting Makoto, who laughs from Rin’s smug face at beating Haruka for the second time that day, never mind that Haruka has beaten him more than five times already.
Sousuke though is stuck on the words we could be good partners. Makoto means it like a business partnership when Sousuke would give anything to turn this into a romantic relationship.
But it’s a start. It’s more than they have now, anyway.
Sousuke touches his fingertips to the skin of Makoto’s hands, bringing the other’s attention back to their conversation. He takes in the person in front of him, all broad shoulders, slippery skin, colorful eyes, heavy muscles and priceless heart. Makoto will probably forget about this, though, they have such a long way to go yet. He will probably forget, between parties and mixers and school assignments and meeting new, far more interesting people, but Sousuke won’t.
He will remember this conversation until the end of times.
Sousuke gives him a small, private smile anyways, and a huge – we are talking Las Vegas neon sign huge here – yes.
___________________
The bright future Makoto envisioned never happened. On the summer after that, with only a year left of school for them, their nightmare had begun.
___________________
“So, I was thinking that maybe we should do something different today.”
Sousuke’s voice is embarrassingly rough, speaking for the first time in hours, and he turns to the passenger side where Makoto sits staring out of the window. The man glances at him, and asks “Yeah? What do you have in mind?”
The sun is still high in the sky and the wind plays with the brown hair. Makoto’s hair is longer and unkempt, curling around his ears and neck, his green sweatshirt is torn and frayed in places, there is a faint day’s old stubble in his face, and his eyes are red around the edges. But he has never been more beautiful to Sousuke than right now, with the sunlight glowing on his skin like fucking diamonds as if he was made of pure gold. It turns out that no matter the background, the scenery, Makoto is absolutely breathtaking, has always been.
Sousuke tries and fails to smile a bit to cover how nervous he truly is.
“I think we should focus on their lives, and not on their deaths. On every time we laughed and swam together. We should celebrate.”
By the end of his speech, his voice has gone small and shaken, and he winces. That sounded way better in his head, less cheesy and more mature. Sousuke half expects Makoto to punch him in the face for making light of their grief.
Unsurprisingly, Makoto’s eyes widen, and he turns his pale face away, swallowing. After a long while, he looks at Sousuke again with a tilt of his head and swallows loudly. “How do you want to celebrate?”
Laughing softly and eyeing the road, because suddenly he can breathe so much easier, Sousuke answers. “Fuck, we should have cake, or ice cream, chocolate, anything.” They can’t swim, obviously, since there aren’t any swimming pools around anymore, and Makoto can’t face the ocean even on his best days. “Do you want to go searching for nice food? Have an adventure?”
“Should I just pretend we don’t search for food every other day?” Makoto chuckles, sounding resigned. “Sure, let’s have some fun,” he adds, touching Sousuke’s elbows with his fingertips.
They fall into an easy silence after that, Makoto humming to old songs next to him.
Sousuke drives around, sometimes spotting dead corpses walking or eating dead flesh, until arriving at the next town. They leave the car on the edge of the town, where the scenery looks eerie and quiet, the city streets looking dead, not a soul around. Experience has thought Sousuke that this is never a good sign, and he starts to second guess himself. They can keep going, find a place to sleep and forget about the celebration thing. It was a stupid idea anyway, why risk their lives for such so insignificant?
But then they lock eyes and when Makoto nods. It’s not a simple nod, though. Instead, it feels like if Makoto is reading Sousuke’s mind and disagreeing with him. It’s we are doing this – stop complaining – It was your idea kind of nod, so Sousuke climbs out of the car while carrying an axe, as Makoto holds a crowbar, as usual. The perfect weapon for Sousuke would have been a gun instead of the axe, because of his shoulders, but their only gun was stolen from them a few months ago.
Unsurprising, the hardest part of the zombie madness isn’t always the zombies themselves, but the so-called humans. The degradation, poverty, and the disease are just a mask that some people use to cover the thirsty for blood. So Makoto and Sousuke are always on alert these days.
No need to mention how Makoto learned that lesson. At times Sousuke feels bad because one of the great qualities Makoto possess is his never ending kindness. But really, Sousuke would rather survive than try to help some people along the way or give strange people rides, ever again.
This is something not even the worst days could take away from Sousuke: the desperate, visceral need to survive.
They walk around the town quietly, hiding behind buildings and moving in smooth movements and a practiced sync that took two years to achieve. Sousuke has better eyesight so he walks in front, while Makoto has a better sense of surrounds. While they make their way towards a small grocery store a few blocks from where the car is parked, it’s possible to catch glances of the undead people standing here and there, still unaware of them.
Arriving at their destination, they round the building and enter through the back door. It’s not particularly difficult to break the lock. It’s dark inside, the kind of dark that makes shivers run down one’s spine, so Sousuke is glad when Makoto turns on the flashlight and starts exploring the store, Sousuke on his tow.
The store isn’t big by any means nor is fully packed, the shelves empty in more places than not, but overall Sousuke is satisfied at the fairly put together appearance of the place.
After a while, “Hey, I bet I can find something that you may like.”
Sousuke steals a sideways glance at Makoto. “What would that be? You know how picky I am.”
Makoto smiles faintly for the first time in days, looking around. “Yes, but I am fairly sure I can overcome your picky ways, I do know you a lot, better than you know yourself, maybe.”
Sousuke stiffs a laugh. He has to. “Is this a food challenge?”
At this, Makoto looks back at him, a soft look in his eyes. “It’s not a challenge if I know you will lose.”
A laugh startles Sousuke, and he is shocked when realizing the sound busted from him. From places, he didn’t even remember existed. The thing is, right now, with Makoto teasing him in his own overly nice way, he feels lighter than he felt for a long time. He shakes his head, “oh God. Yes, go on, amaze me. I am waiting.”
Makoto takes a small package from the shelf in front of him and walks over to where Sousuke is standing, offering it to Sousuke. Sousuke looks at the open hands, the red package of jelly staring right back at him. He stares at Makoto with what he hopes is a disappointment. “I hate these things.”
Makoto chuckles soundless. “It’s the end of the world. I was hoping you would learn to appreciate the good things left, but I see now that I was wrong”.
“I thought you knew me better than I knew myself?”
Good lord, Sousuke was flirting with him. Shit. And they are still holding eyes. But Makoto remained oblivious, a smile growing and betraying him. He asks “how about this?”
When he opens his other hand, Sousuke catches his breathe and he can’t help it, he grins and hugs Makoto, hiding his face in Makoto’s neck. “You were right, I am sold. Your food finding skills are the best I have ever seen.” Then he mumbles a soft “thank you” into the skin and kisses his cheek. Makoto’s smile is a beautiful thing – a work of art – when he puts the package of Nutella inside his backpack. “I told you so. I know you,” he says belatedly, if not a bit shy.
They keep wandering around, finding more food than they had been expecting – since most of the shelves are empty – like some crackers and beans, but not many sweets. They also find things like toothpaste and toilet paper. After they stored many packages and cans of food inside their backpacks, they start making their way towards the back door when a loud noise on the other side of the room startles them from their small, almost happy bubble.
And then strange, human voices fill the room.
___________________
Hurrying, Makoto and Sousuke hide behind a shelf closer to the back, turning off the flashlight. They aren’t hiding together. Makoto is closer to the door, but Sousuke can’t run to him in fear of attracting the attention of whoever is there with them. Thankfully the shelves they both chose are fairly hidden, and they struggle not to breathe too loudly, not to make a sound.
Footsteps echoes loudly inside the room and Sousuke catches a glimpse of a blond head through between the products in front of him. After a fast assessment, he thinks maybe there is three, four men in the store. None of them seem to have any guns, but rather weapons like Sousuke’s axe.
He tries to keep his head clean, but he can’t lie to himself. The situation makes him uneasy, his heart beating rabbit fast inside his body. Then he hears a voice, and his breath catches.
“What do you think Duke? Not many things around, yeah?”
A black man, who has to be Duke, shrugs, and speaks. “It could be worse.”
Then the third man, black-haired and muscled, order the others. “Stop whining and start collecting the food. We don’t have all day.”
“Sure, boss,” they repeat in unison. The men move faster after that, gathering what was left of the food and putting them into huge backpacks. One of them, though, a small brunet, hides a few items inside his own baggy clothes, Sousuke notes.
Unfortunately, he isn’t the only one.
The black-haired man shouts “What the fuck!” In seconds he has the brunet sprawled on the floor, products scattering across his body and the feet of the other three men.
“Are you stealing from me?” The first man speaks again, voice low, cold as a brick wall.
The smaller man swallows. “I – I – I am still hungry…”
“So you are telling me I am not giving you enough.”
At this, the other two men snicker and settle for watching the show. Sousuke steals a glance at Makoto, who is staring warily at the strange people ahead.
“No, I just –”
At lighting speed, the muscled man kicks the brunet in the stomach. Hard.
“I know what I saw. And it’s a pity because I was beginning to like you.”
“What –” Another kick.
“Sorry Tom. But since I haven’t found much food around here, and you have just betrayed my unwavering trust in you, I guess you will have to do.” He looks at the other men. “Cut him. Carefully, I don’t want another piece of meat wasted like it happened with the last one.”
Sousuke can’t believe what he is hearing. He – just – can’t –
There is blood, too much blood, and the weirdest thing is that he can see but can’t hear the scream because the black man is covering the noises and sobs with his large hands while the blond man destroys skin and like alike with the sharp administrations of a knife.
At some point, when it gets too fucking heavy, Sousuke feels nauseated, sick to his stomach and he struggles with the urge not to vomit. He starts to feel really out of it, though, and his face is covered in are tears tracks and snot. He feels disgusting and holy fuck so disgusted.
This is why he accidentally hits a can of beans when he tries to keep himself in place. The metal noise hitting the floor is loud even through the grunts and the sound of tearing flesh.
It’s as if the world stops turning for a gut-wreaking second, then there are hands manhandling his body upwards, and even though he struggles with everything he can, cutting the blond man in the arm and the black man in the chest with the point of his axe, in the end, he loses his weapon and is pushed towards the floor – he couldn’t hold a fair fight for long, not with his sick shoulder, no matter how fierce he wants to be. His face ends up close to the bloodied rest of the limp man’s torso. Up close, Sousuke can see he is still struggling to breathe.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The black-haired man says and turns pretentious sad eyes to the much alive bloodied body on the floor. “Apologies Tom, but you will have to wait for a little bit while I deal with this.”
Sousuke’s answer to this statement is to spit right in the black-haired man’s face.
Instead of cutting Sousuke’s body, though, they decide the best course of action is to beat the shit out of him. Perhaps it’s because they have found their dinner already, Sousuke thinks while his face is bruised and his body broken like a doll’s.
He makes a conscious effort not to look towards Makoto. All he wants is to see his face one last time, but he would never, ever betray his friend. He wants Makoto to live.
The strangers seemed to have decided not to care about the noises anymore as well, letting Sousuke grunt and sob and even scream at some point. It doesn’t take long for him to black out like that, with his face resting on a puddle of his own blood.
___________________
Makoto watches Sousuke being manhandled to the floor with his heart going wild inside his ribcages. This was not supposed to happen. He can’t lose the only person he has, his only company, not today of all 365 days.
Sousuke’s head is pushed to the ground, his friend making a pained noise, and Makoto averts his eyes. He feels like fainting, the corners of his eyes flashing black for a second.
And then it hits him, clarity as day, for the very first time. If Sousuke dies right now, Makoto won’t come back from it. He will never be whole again.
Yes, he has imagined the vague possibility of being apart from Sousuke before; they do live in the apocalypse. But it has always been a “what if”. He always thought he would be the one to die first. In truth, things had never seemed as terrifying as they do at this moment.
Makoto struggles to breathe, to overcome the nerves still so frayed with residual anxiety from the horrible morning. Suddenly he feels guilty for not eating the shitty cereal Sousuke had brought him, of all things. He opens and closes his hands, trying to think over the sounds of hurt coming from Sousuke’s mouth.
And then Makoto makes the mistake of looking for his friend again, only to be met with the worst image he has ever seen. Every kick, every punch made against Sousuke feels like a kick to Makoto’s own guts. There is so much blood.
He shuts his eyes again, trying to clear his head when he hears Sousuke’s voice inside his head, echoes from a long time ago.
I won’t sink, Makoto. I will swim.
And for a moment, Makoto feels as if he is back home again, with Sousuke stretched over his teenage bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands locked behind his head, his gray shirt riding high against his stomach, showing a sinful path of skin that Makoto tried his best not to stare at.
(Makoto had tried so hard not to make things weird, back then. He had thought that, maybe, just having Sousuke’s friendship would have been enough. It wasn’t, not nearly.
With Sousuke in his room, looking so serene while explaining to him all the things he wanted to do for his future, letting go of the remaining pain of not competing anymore, Makoto knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do anything to keep the easy smile covering his friend’s face.
With sharp realization, Makoto knew that he would do the impossible to be by his side, even if platonically because he was crazy in love with him).
At the memory, Makoto takes a sharp intake of breath, because Sousuke might die today and Makoto has never convinced his friend of how much he means to him. How Sousuke is the only thing keeping him steady, sane, sometimes, how Makoto has always wanted him, since before this madness, when they had been so young. How he still wants him all the time.
Sousuke never believes him when he says it.
And just like that, Makoto’s mind clears. He doesn’t care about anything the way he cares about Sousuke. He wants to wake up next to him every day, to hear him complain about silly things, to pet his hair, to love him and to fight alongside him. Makoto would do anything for the boy with the broken dreams, who keeps fighting his way towards the shore even through the storm.
He doesn’t even have to think about it really. There had never been a choice but Sousuke. Makoto holds his weapon firmer in his grip, accesses his surrounds, and makes a plan.
Quietly, he stands up, goes on the shelf, and attacks.
___________________
It takes a while for Sousuke to come back to his senses, and he blinks his eyes carefully. It feels like they are made of sandpaper, and it hurts to move.
Little by little, the vision comes back to him, and he sees a gray shape moving towards another gray shape, repeatedly. After a moment, awareness comes and he realizes that the first shape is Makoto. Makoto, covered in blood, hitting the black-haired man’s head over and over again until it’s nothing more than a puddle of blood on the floor.
The place’s silent, and as he moves his head a bit, he can see three other bodies lying around, unmoving.
Then he understands. Makoto killed these men.
His friend killed every single one of them, every single person who has dared to lay a hand on Sousuke. And somehow, Sousuke is not surprised.
It fits. How even in his worst days, Makoto is the solid rock in this relationship. How he may spend days at the bottom of the line, a shell of himself, hurting Sousuke with his lack of desire to keep going and just live, but when Sousuke needs him the most, he is always there, to talk to him, to hug him, to cuddle him, to have sex with him, and now to kill because of him.
He remembers Makoto’s words from earlier. There is only death out there. His heart aches because Makoto had been right. There’s no way out from the life they live in.
Not anymore.
He must have made some noise because suddenly Makoto is there helping to ease him onto his back. His eyes are almost black with worry, and his face has blood everywhere. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Sousuke says, wincing because damn, his body hurts. “What a bunch of assholes.”
Makoto tries to clean his face with a paper towel, his hands shaking, but Sousuke pretends he doesn’t see. “We have to go.”
As Makoto helps Sousuke stand up, carrying most of his weight plus the backpacks, Sousuke locks his eyes on the dead eyes of the black-haired man. He will never know the name of a person so cruel.
He is more than fine with that, though.
Sousuke is sluggish still, mind slow, and he doesn’t get why Makoto isn’t walking towards the back door, taking him to the front of the store instead. As if sensing his confusion, Makoto whispers. “We can’t leave through the back door. The noise and the blood have attracted the dead. We also can’t stay for long. Hang on, we are almost there.”
Sousuke doesn’t know how, or when, but he ends up on the passenger side of a black truck, Makoto tries to start the car. Sousuke distantly figures the truck must belong to one of the men they killed. He jumps when suddenly there’s a bloodied hand on his window, and he blinks trying to get the full picture. The army of dead has heard them exiting the store and is approaching the car, one by one. There is so many of them.
Cursing under his breath, Makoto finally finds the right key and the car starts with a jolt, going backward before driving away from the neighborhood, straight into the dead and leaving red marks and disgusting pieces of skin on the glass. For a second, Sousuke thinks Makoto will lose control of the car around a shocking jerking, but thankfully they manage to leave the horde of zombies and skip the town.
___________________
They don’t talk at all during the drive. Not even to decide where to go next. They just ride.
___________________
After a few hours, Makoto stops the car on the edges of a farm. He leaves Sousuke in the vehicle and does the inspection of the place alone. It takes long, but they have a secure set of actions to ensure a house is safe, and have been doing the same motions for years, so Sousuke thinks it’s ok to stay put this time.
He dozes off and only comes to awareness once Makoto puts him inside the tub and starts scrubbing his body in a careful way, mindful of his aching body. When Sousuke is clean, Makoto leaves him relaxing for a second and showers, cleaning his body with fast strokes.
They change into clean clothes, and Makoto makes them dinner with some of the food they managed to gather at the store. It’s quiet between them, all thoughts of celebration completely forgotten, whipped out of their minds in face of the events of the day.
After they lay in bed fully awake, Makoto’s head resting on Sousuke’s shoulders. He doesn’t cry, and Sousuke doesn’t really expect him to. He never does.
Sousuke is stroking Makoto’s hair when the brunet speaks softly. “I thought I was going to lose you today.”
“So did I,” Sousuke swallows hard. “Thank you for saving me. But I just wanted you to be safe. It was the only thing in my mind.”
Makoto pushes himself to his elbows, and stares right at him, brushing the hair out of Sousuke’s forehead. “You know I love you, right? I wouldn’t –” he blushes, and forces himself to continue, “I wouldn’t be able to go on without you.”
Sousuke averts his eyes and sighs. They have had this conversation before. “Yes, you would. Makoto, you are the strongest person I know. You can overcome anything.”
“Not losing you, I can’t.”
There is something in Makoto’s voice that makes Sousuke look back at his friend with a frown, studying his honest, serious expression. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I have a feeling you don’t believe me when I tell you how I feel, and I don’t know why.”
His heart starts beating faster, and Sousuke tries to crush the hope blossoming inside him, blurting out the last thing he wanted to share, if not a little bitter. “I am sorry I am the last one, the one you are stuck with.”
Makoto sits back on his heels as if slapped, and Sousuke curses himself because there’s no taking the words back. Makoto has heard them, and now he knows just how selfish Sousuke truly is. Now he knows everything.
Then Makoto’s face crumbles, and he takes Sousuke by surprise by lowering himself in bed again, holding Sousuke’s face with both hands and catching his lips with feathery small kisses that feel too much like an apology.
They had kissed before. But this feels new and safe, and Sousuke melts a little against Makoto’s warmth.
“I am sorry. I never meant to – I thought you knew. It’s my fault,” Makoto murmurs against his lips. He kisses his jaw, his neck, his nose. “I have always been in love with you. I miss the others every day, but I would miss you so much more.”
As he stares at the man in front of him, peppering in loving strokes and brushes of hands, it dawns on Sousuke that maybe he should stop waiting until the sun comes back around. Maybe the dark night is not so bad. With Makoto here, above him, kissing him, touching him, holding hands with him, when he can feel Makoto everywhere, from the tip of his toes to the tingling of his lips, things look as bright as it could ever get. Sousuke feels alive in a way he can’t even begin to explain. On moments like these, he doesn’t really care for all the death and suffering that can be found out there – the world can blow up for all he cares. He is perfectly fine with living on the now.
His mind drifts, thinking about the words hanging around them, and back on those few years with Makoto.
Sex didn’t happen very often, sure, and Sousuke had always thought that Makoto viewed sex with him as an easy way to deal with how horny he could be, just a mean to an end, sweet friction, a warm body to hold, something entirely carnal, an explosion of hormones.
And he has always said yes to sex because he is crazy about Makoto. And it hurt every single time, but it was better than not having Makoto at all.
Now, though, as Makoto kisses him and carding his fingers through his hair, murmuring sweet nothings into his skin, he is starting to second guess himself, thinking that maybe he has been wrong all along. He is starting to consider that Makoto might love him just as fervently as Sousuke loves Makoto.
A part of him tries to push the thoughts out of his mind because surely Makoto could never feel the same way about someone so flawed like Sousuke, but a larger part screams at him but what if he does?
Makoto just became a killer for him. And he has been faithful to Sousuke’s wishes for a long time, even before the zombie apocalypse started. Makoto has been there for him during college, and lonely nights and difficult weeks and stress and self-doubt and loathing. And now, he’s still right here with him, caressing his jaw and neck, licking his bottom lip, entwining their fingers tightly. Sousuke is starting to believe that his feelings and everything that he is can be enough after all.
As if reading his mind, Makoto brushes the soaked strands of black hair out of Sousuke’s forehead again, an affectionate gesture he does all the time. How could Sousuke have missed it? “You are overthinking again.”
Sousuke huffs, and turns his head to the side, closing his eyes. “I can’t stop. It’s just the way my brain works.”
Chuckling, Makoto rests their foreheads together. “I know. I like your pessimistic brain.” Sousuke looks doubtful at him, taking in his slightly wet hair, bright eyes and gentle smile. Makoto repeats, in earnest. “I love you. And I will keep repeating it until you trust me. I am not leaving you,” he kisses his shoulders at the words, and Sousuke instantly knows the meaning.
Makoto is talking about the morning, about all the times Sousuke felt him slipping through his fingers. It’s a promise, a plea, an apology, and the truth, all tangled out together.
“I won’t let you,” Sousuke tells him, bringing his arms to hold onto Makoto’s shoulders tightly and ignoring the sharp pain in his joints. Right here, in the small bubble of comfort zone they managed to create in the end of the world, between dusty, borrowed sheets and their aching bodies, as Makoto settles by his side again, sighing as if in relief and contentment, Sousuke finally lets himself believe him.
The end