28 DAYS [MakoHaru]

forty three → 01/02

Chapter Forty-Three: January 2nd

The only source of light in Makoto's room is the soft glow from a peppermint-scented candle, leftover from Christmas, which had nearly burnt out completely.

He stares, intimidated, at the voice recorder on his desk, fiddling with its mechanisms. He hadn't seen one of these since his dad showed him his dusty 90's tape collection-- in all honesty, he felt ridiculous.

It's weird, how difficult this was. He had a million things to say, and yet no words come to mind. There's nothing he can say. Not without telling the entire story, anyway.

His mind blank, he starts to ramble.

"I have no idea when you're going to listen to this, or if you even will. I feel silly recording this... in fact, I'm not even sure if it's working--"

He stops the recording and rewinds the tape.

"I hope you're doing well, wherever you are-"

Rewinding it again, he sighs, dissatisfied. Third time's the charm, he thinks.

He starts with two words:

"Hey, Haru."

And then, two more:

"It's me."

He pauses, and then his story bubbles to the surface.

"Is it strange to hear my voice like this?" He laughs brokenly into the recorder. "This is strange for me too. I never expected to find myself here..."

Makoto feels like his brain is on autopilot as he whispers into the microphone.

"You know how people ask that question, 'what would you do if today was your last day to live?' It's funny, because my day today felt almost normal. I traveled home with you from France. I unpacked my suitcase. I ate pasta for dinner. It was like... like I'm not going to die tomorrow morning."

He pauses, letting the words hang in the air. It's so strange to say aloud, and yet, his inevitable fate was so close, just within his grasp -- there was no feeling like it.

"Wow, what am I even supposed to say after that?" He asks himself quietly. "I'm sure you're wondering how I know. Maybe you're thinking I committed suicide. Maybe you've been living year after year in agony, never getting an explanation - or maybe, you've forgotten about me. Either way, I'm here to give you one. I think... I think you deserve to know the truth. Hopefully you believe it."

He feels tears brimming in his eyes, and he silently curses himself, wiping them away. He refuses to cry, not now, not yet. His voice is soft, but his heart screams to be heard.

"This is the story of the best twenty-eight days of my life."

- - - -

What feels like hours later, Makoto finishes his story, and he stares at the blinking light on the audio recorder, warning him of a low battery. The clock on his bedside table is another blinking light, flashing his countdown. 11:44-- sixteen minutes left.

"I'm so sorry, Haru," He cries, voice wavering, and the words just aren't enough to show how broken he feels. "I never wanted it to end like this. All I wanted was more time. A lifetime, a year, even just one more second. Even a single moment would be enough."

The scent of peppermint sweetly wraps its way around Makoto's brain and takes its hold.

"But I... I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Because of my death, it meant you got to live, Haru. And that's all I ever wanted from the start. I know you're going to become someone wonderful, because you already are. I only wish I--"