28 DAYS [MakoHaru]

one → 01/04

Chapter One

Makoto wakes with a start.

He is sticky with cold sweat as he sits up in bed, the blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy. His arm was outstretched, fingers reaching to grasp at whatever he was trying to catch before it was too late. Images of a dream flash through his head like pictures on a grainy slideshow.

What was that?

Makoto doesn't usually have dreams. He usually sleeps like a baby, going to bed after nine o'clock after helping his family with the dishes, getting his siblings to bed, and finishing his homework. Not to mention Makoto hasn't had a nightmare like that in years, or ever, really.

His panic disorder is supposedly long gone, according to his counselor, repressed and forgotten, but it's been months since he's felt his heart twist so anxiously in his chest. 

His matted bed hair sticks to his forehead and he runs his hands through his hair, trying to sort out his thoughts. Slowly but surely, his heart begins to slow its pace to a normal one, and he's breathing regularly again.

Why did I have that dream? He thinks to himself, closing his eyes and trying to adjust himself to waking up so quickly. It felt so real....

Makoto can practically feel the way the wind blew atop the river, the sight of looking down at the rushing water from on top of the bridge, and yet, he can't seem to remember the face of the boy in the dream. Instead, it is like someone blurred his face out, so close to seeing the desperate expression on his face, and it reminds him of a song he heard on the radio.

He thinks about how he could practically hear the boy's thoughts. The daunting jeers. The threats that wouldn't subside. How he slowly began to agree with them because he had no one to tell him any different.

A distasteful shiver runs down his spine.

"Makoto!" His mother yells from down the hall. "It's time for school, honey."

"Okay!" He shouts back, tossing the covers off. He shivers again, this time from catching a chill. Makoto looks to his left; his window is open, the curtains dancing in the breeze delicately. It's the time of year when the temperature drops and winter starts to chill you to your bones. Perhaps he should start wearing a shirt to bed.

"It was just a dream, Makoto," He whispers to himself, rubbing his tanned, bare skin. Though, the unsettled feeling in his stomach refused to go away. Stumbling into the bathroom, he twists the faucet, releasing a stream of hot water. He forces himself to wash away the feeling with a blast of the scalding water, allowing the scalding feeling rippling on his skin to numb the pain of the nightmare.

After his shower, Makoto dresses himself and heads downstairs. His twin siblings have already left for their school bus, and his father had taken the train to work, so it is just his stay-at-home mother and him.

"Good morning, honey," Makoto's mother regards him warmly, placing a plate in front of him as Makoto slides into his seat and drops his satchel by his feet. Monday morning was always a stack of pancakes with butter and maple syrup - An enjoyable way to start the week, his mother always says.

Makoto greets her and thanks her for the meal. Makoto was always astounded at how much kindness his mother had to offer others; she spent most of her time volunteering at charities, soup kitchens, or preschools to busy herself from the fact that she is unable to work due to her heart condition. No one really talks about it, however, and Makoto's mother always puts on a smile, brushing off his worries with reassuring smiles and "I'm fine"s, telling him to worry about his schoolwork and not her.