Makoto claws his way to the surface, clinging to the last shreds of his sanity as the mud and muck tries to keep him under. This is what he gets for trusting, this is what he gets for baring his soul. This is what he gets for-
His fingers break through and he struggles to pull himself into the cool night air. He can feel his muscles twitching and twinging, his nerves jangling and skittish as he drags himself out of the ground and flops onto his back. Had he been under for a few hours or a few days? The stars are clear overhead but that really doesn’t tell him anything. They were just as clear before.
“I knew you could do it,” Sousuke says, casually like he hadn’t been the one to put Makoto in the ground. His smile is sharp, a bizarre mimicry of the sliver of crescent moon high above. “A real trooper.”
“No thanks to you,” he tries to say but all that comes out is a croak. His throat clenches and makes a valiant attempt at making words. Sousuke chuckles softly. Once upon a time that sound made Makoto’s heart skip a pleasant beat. Now? Not so much.
“Yeah,” Sousuke says and he almost sounds reluctant and sincere. “Vocal cords are gonna be a little shot. Side effect. Should wear off in a few days.” He shrugs and stands, offering a hand to Makoto. One that he eyes warily. He eventually reaches for it and Sousuke pulls him to his feet easy as you please. “That is assuming you last that long.”
soumako central 