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--"

Makoto chokes up, biting his knuckle to hold back a sob. He watches as the number 1 on his wrist morphs into a zero. He doesn't even feel the blinding pain anymore. It is nothing in comparison to the pain throbbing in his heart.

"--I only wish I could've been there with you longer."

Voice breaking as he whispers the words, his head falls in his hands, and it takes a moment for him to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we wanted them to. I'm sorry... I'm sorry I couldn't handle it all. Is it weird to think that I actually thought we had a chance at being happy? We'd go to college together; maybe get a little apartment off-campus. It'd surely be crappy, poor water fixtures and eating instant ramen every night, but it would be okay, I think. Perfect, maybe. I don't know-- I'm so bad at this, Haru-chan. Good thing I'm not a writer, yeah?"

Makoto wonders if this is how Haruka felt the night before his suicide. Like his heart was about to swallow him whole, like even breathing was difficult. His last words became something of an an embrace, a comfort.

"Whatever you do, please don't blame yourself. I'll always choose you over me, Haru. If I were given the chance to do it again, I'd do it without a second thought. Do you know why?"

Makoto had always felt... torn. About everything. He felt torn between being a good person and missing out on all the opportunities that life could offer someone like him, someone who's seen life and death and everything in between.

But now, he understood.

"Because if I never got to save you, I never would've been able to fall in love with you."

He pauses. Now, there's only one thing left to say.

"I love you, Haruka Nanase."

11:49-- eleven minutes left.

Makoto always knew Haruka had the power to break him, and now, those three words were enough. And suddenly, he couldn't stop thinking it. The words swirl with the peppermint candle, the flames licking the air, and strangle him. He's choking the words out now; tears in freefall.

"I love you. I love you. I love you... I'm sorry I never got to tell you that in person. I knew it. I felt it, every day... I'm sorry things turned out this way; it just happened. We just happened, and I'm so lucky we did."

His finger loops around his necklace, feeling the cool metal star charm against his skin. He recalls the soft brush of Haruka's fingers as he pinned it to his neck that Christmas evening on the beach. The words are sweet poison, kissing him and killing him at the same time.

Think of the stars.

"Remember how you promised you weren't going to leave me? Maybe you're thinking you broke that promise. You always said promises were worse than lies, because they give you hope. I'm not sure how much of that I have left to give. But I made a promise too."

With a smile, he takes off the necklace, his fingers curling around the chain.

"I promised that I'd never forget you."

Makoto clutches onto the necklace like it is his lifeline.

"Think of the stars, Haru," He whispers. "But don't stop there. Don't stop for anyone."

He stops the recording, burning it into an audio file. When it's finished, he puts it on an empty flash drive. With a permanent marker, he labels the side: 28 DAYS.

The candle extinguishes, the shadows slide across the walls, and the room does dark.

He has three things to do. After that, he will be at peace.

- - - -

one.

Makoto stands in the doorway of his parents' bedroom, knocking on the open door softly.

"Dad?"

The room is dark; he thinks they've already fallen asleep. He catches a glimse of the bedside clock. 11:53-- seven minutes left. He decides against his original idea, and starts to close the door, when a voice breaks the silence.

"Makoto? What's wrong?"

Makoto freezes in his spot upon hearing his father's voice. He creeps back into the room, shutting the door softly. "Nothing, I just..." He bows his head. "I had something I wanted to tell you?" It comes out more like a question.

His father sounds worried. Makoto hears the shift in the mattress as he sits up. "What is it, son?"

"I..." He begins, unsure of what to say. All he knows is that it needs to be said. "Haruka... he isn't just my friend. We're dating. I'm-- I'm gay."

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" He asks, his voice level.

Makoto swallows. "Yes."

"Well... thank you for telling me. But I have one question: does he make you happy?"

Makoto breathes a sigh, and his heart twists upon itself, threatening to collapse. "More than you'll ever believe."

"Then I'm glad you're with him."

Makoto isn't sure what else to say, so he backs towards the door, nodding. Fumbling for the doorknob, he starts to slip out of the room.

"And, Makoto--"

"Yes, Dad?"

"I love you."

Makoto's throat is dry as he croaks, "...I love you too."

And for once, he truly means it.

- - - -

two.

Makoto's fingers shake as he dials the phone.

"Hello?" The voice is groggy. Makoto must've woken him up.

"I love you."

His response is automatic. Makoto can hear the smile in his face. The mental image makes him feel whole inside, even if it's just for a second, it feels like a lifetime.

"I love you too."

A second more is all he ever needed, anyway.

11:55-- five minutes left.

- - - -

three.

Makoto makes one more call. After three rings, she picks up.

"Hello?" A cheery voice asks.

"Zoe?"

Her voice instantly drops. "Makoto?"

"Yeah," Makoto says softly. He doesn't trust his voice; it threatens to break at any moment. "Could you... come over?"

"Of course," She says softly. Makoto whispers a thanks and ends the call, staring into darkness. The only light in the room is his clock, blinking to the beat of his heart.

11:58-- two minutes left.

He hears the whistle of wind, and the sound of his bed shifting, and he turns around.

The moonlight streaming in between his curtains gives off just enough light for him to see Zoe's silhouette. She doesn't need light to know he's crying.

"You've made your choice?" She guesses quietly, keeping her distance.

Makoto sniffs, but his voice is clear.

"Yes."

It takes only two seconds for his walls to break down, and he starts to cry silently. "Come here," Zoe says, offering her hand out. Tears pooling in his eyes, Makoto rushes to her side, his head falling on her petite shoulder as she wraps her arm around him. He breathes in the scent of her scarf.

They sit there in silence, Makoto's body shaking with sobs, Zoe's statue still. After an unknown amount of time, the last of his tears fall and he feels a wave of overwhelming exhaustion crash over him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. Every part of him felt so heavy. All he wanted was to sleep.

"Zoe..." He murmurs sleepily. "Could you... do something for me?"

"Anything, Makoto," She whispers, her grasp tightening around his hand. Makoto hardly notices the sensation. All he feels is warmth, radiating from his center to every part of his body.

"There's a flash drive on my desk," His hand shakes violently, the last of his energy slipping away, as he points across the room. "It's... for Haru. There's a file on it. Would you... give it to him someday?"

"Of course... but when?" Her eyes are wide with sadness.

"When... when he's about to forget," Makoto whispers. He feels the seconds, hours, years slipping away from him, and the image of Haruka finally dissolves from his mind.

Zoe says nothing; she doesn't need to. She guides him to his pillow, takes off his shoes, pulls back the covers. Makoto curls into his side, eyes closing. He murmurs something incomprehensible, something Zoe can't quite make out.

"What did you say?" She kneels down by his side.

His voice is soft as he speaks. She can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you."

12:00 -- zero minutes left. 

- - - -