28 DAYS [MakoHaru]

six → 12/07

Chapter Six

A/N: This chapter is kinda filler-y lol xD

Makoto only needs to hear his mother's voice to know she is pissed. Or rather, Makoto is probably going to be digging his own grave tonight, because he's so dead and he knows it. Her voice is low and steely, hushed as to not wake anyone else up, as he does his best to shut the door silently and tip-toe through the living room.

"Makoto Tachibana, do you have any idea what time it is?"

Makoto freezes in fear, turning around slowly to see his mom standing in the doorway. She's wrapped in a fuzzy purple bathrobe and matching slippers, her olive green hair let down and framing her makeup-free face in waves.

As if it is instinctual, he smiles apologetically, which only seems to get his mother even more worked up. "Oh no, don't you pull your boyish charms on me, mister. You better explain yourself!"

"Mom. Mom! Please calm down," Makoto steps closer, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He is already warming up from having been in the cold, but his fingers are still raw and pink from the chilly December air. "I was with a friend. Everything's fine. I made it home safely, see?"

"Hand me your phone. You're grounded for two weeks. Don't you think you're getting off easy!" Her anger lasts for another minute as she rants about how dangerous it is to be walking around the city at this time of night, and demanded if he's even seen what's been happening on the news recently.

She's crying now, the anger subsided and hysteria ensuing. It's like she is a balloon that's been popped, and all the pent-up emotions she tried so hard to keep inside pour out.

"It's a quarter to midnight, Makoto! On a school night! I was worried sick!" She blubbers, her voice breaking on the last syllable as she sobs into her hands.

Makoto decides not to comment on the fact that she said I, not we. He has a feeling his father was still at work, or sleeping soundly in bed.

"I-I'm sorry," Makoto stammers, and he means it. There is nothing worse than seeing your own mother break into tears. Although he couldn't help the fact he was literally thrown through a vacuum of time and tossed into an old seafood restaurant, he still feels guilty for not alerting his mother of his whereabouts.

"It's okay, darling," Makoto's mother gasps through her tears as he pulls her into a hug. "I was just so scared something could've happened to you."

"I won't do it again, I promise, Mom," Makoto tells her as she buries her face into his shoulder, promptly staining his cardigan with tearstains. They stand in the hallway for a minute or two, with her softly weeping into his shoulder and Makoto patting her back. Eventually they release, and she wipes her bloodshot eyes.

"You better get some rest, honey. I wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning," She decides. Makoto nods solemnly and she kisses his forehead before heading down the hall. After flicking off the light switch, she disappears behind her bedroom door, leaving Makoto standing in the hall.

With a shaky sigh, he heads to his bedroom and throws himself into bed without even bothering to change into pajamas.

He lies in bed, tossing, turning, and trying to get comfortable in his twin-sized bed he outgrew years ago, unable to fall asleep. To pass the time, he finds himself staring at the scar on his right hand, the grisly 28 that shimmers in iridescent hues even in total darkness. When he runs his fingers over the raised skin, it sends a shiver through his body; almost like a reminder of what he's signed himself up for.

At around three in the morning, Makoto huffs in disgust and decides there is no hope for sleeping and throws the covers off of himself. He climbs out of bed and plops down in his desk chair, flicking on the lamplight.