middaeg | what is the sesame street number of the day??

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what is the sesame street number of the day??

Who: Makoto Yuuki & others [closed]
*** This is for pre-plotted threads, but anyone is welcome to contact me if they would like a thread with Makoto!

lazdo
When: August 15 (Full Moon)
Where: Around the city
What: Makoto's first full moon brings with it some uncomfortable changes.
Warnings: suggestive sexual themes in threads with Fuuka and Iramaat, NSFW in thread with Eren

Prompts in comments!

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Makoto doesn't answer. He's pouring a glass of water. After turning off the tap, he raises it to his lips to drink. When he turns towards Shinjiro, he's staring at him with one red eye from beyond the rim of the glass.

A long moment later, he lowers the glass and swallows.

"I'm not sick. It's the full moon thing," he states matter-of-factly. After sizing Shinjiro up a few times, but still a bit too absorbed in his own bad mood to notice the small changes in him yet, he gestures with the hand holding his glass. "Or did you not even look at yourself before coming down here today? Akihiko's gonna think you died again."

Ugh, why is he so... thirsty? He fills his glass to the brim with more water. "What are you making?"

The red eyes is definitely new- and maybe an indication of the whole 'vampire' thing Makoto had been expecting. He seemed to have a leg up on them in that department, but honestly, Shinjiro is fine with that. He'd rather not be the first one to have to undergo weird changes.

The ballsy comment he gets back, though, has his lip curl in something like a snarl, brows lifting at surprise of it.

"Keep you fucking voice down," he hisses out, teeth grit. "He doesn't know and the last thing we need's you breaking the news." Even the idea of it makes his stomach drop with a sort of dread. He just wants his friend to stay ignorant as long as possible- there was no sense in worrying him over what had already happened for the rest of them.

Already bristling, it takes him a few moments to register the next question- and finally he just shakes his head. "Just a stir fry. I don't got any meat for it, so you might gotta mooch off someplace else."

Keep his voice down? Makoto raises his eyebrows skeptically and leans back against the kitchen counter. If Akihiko's still here so late in the morning, maybe they ought to knock on his door and check whether he's still alive. For a brief moment, he considers scolding Shinjiro for continuing to keep the truth from him, but then he remembers that he's been doing the same thing. A pang of guilt hits him, again. He takes a long sip of water.

"No meat," he mumbles, licking his lips dry. "That's the only thing I've been eating for two weeks."

Implication: senpai didn't pick any up for him when he was out shopping last? Whether Shinjiro liked it or not, he'd been cooking for the others on and off. Surely by now he'd think to get the one thing Makoto wanted to eat, right?

After finishing his water, he sets the glass in the sink with a sigh. "...stay alert today. Chances are, we're all gonna start acting weird."

There's a long moment where Shinjiro just keeps that challenging eye contact, before returning to his food prep. "Yeah, and between you and Aki, we're clean out. I ain't gone out to the market in a while." At least there's a more benign explanation, rather than any targeted ill-will. Besides, meat was pricey at quantities, and he'd only gotten so many cunes from the few things he'd picked up on the job board.

After a moment, he sets down the knife, moving to check on the rice in the pot instead as he half-listens to Makoto. Everyone had been making such a big deal over the full moon. Just like back home, it seemed their lives were wrapped up in it, swelling and ebbing along with its appearance like the tides.

"Yeah, thats what I've been hearing." A short snort of air, and he shakes his head. "Whatever. It's one day. Long as you don't start suckin' at people's necks, we'll be fine." A shrug of the shoulder as he shuffles at the cooking rice with a fork, before returning the lid. "Seems like you're turning faster than the rest of us, anyway."

Now it's time for Makoto to stare at him, the long moment implying passive-aggression. What does he mean, don't suck at people's necks? Even if he can keep resisting it for now, that's going to change. He'll have to do that eventually. That's what vampires are all about, aren't they? And resisting it makes you more likely to go feral. He ought to know that.

Or is he saying he wouldn't give Makoto some of his own blood if it came down to it? That hurts even more, but in the kind of way that inflames annoyance. Shinjiro will take a bullet for Ken but he wouldn't let his friends have some blood if he needed it?

His mind swarming with overthinking, he huffs and looks away. "No I'm not. Your eyes are freaky and weird right now, and I don't mean the color, but I guess you didn't notice."

He takes out his pocketwatch, and using the shiny polished outer case, he holds it up to show Shinjiro his reflection.

"Like yours ain't-" But as he turns to snarl the retort, he's instead met with an only-slightly distorted reflection from the faint curve of the case. His brows furrow as he scowls, as though not understanding at first what Makoto is trying to show him, but then he finally looks.

And... yeah. That's kind of freaky looking. Eyes the same size and shape, but the slate gray irises expanded, the dark pupils misshapen. A blink, and he tilts his head slightly, as though to get a better look in the case.

"...Huh. Weird." He frowns for a moment at it, one hand coming up to scratch at the scruff at his jawline. Maybe he should actually start looking at himself in a mirror. He'd gotten pretty used to going without it in the years before returning to the dorm, and even when he'd finally had a room of his own, it wasn't exactly an activity he enjoyed. Still, that's the most acknowledgement that Makoto will get of being right, and Shinjiro just steps back and returns to his prep.

"Well, whatever. Guess that means I'm just turning into something with fucked up eyes." It still doesn't give him any clear clues, and to be honest? A part of him doesn't want them. As blase as he likes to act about his body changing into something else entirely, the idea of it actually happening unsettles him a bit.

"So you just hanging out to lecture me on something else, or what?"

Shinjiro's reaction is expected. Why can't he ever just deal with problems? For someone who puts on such an insistent front of apathy and strength, he's such a weakling. But then again, there was a time when the same could be said for Makoto, too.

"You're not immune to this," Makoto says firmly, a hint of scolding in his voice. Sighing loudly, he walks over to the stove and takes the lid off the pot of rice. The grains are fluffed and clumped, thanks to Shinjiro's disturbance a moment ago. They look finished. Could he be trying to get the bottom layer browned and crunchy? It's now how the Japanese eat their white rice, but it isn't technically wrong.

Putting the lid back on, he trains his one exposed eye onto Shinjiro's face. His strong jaw is punctuated by the unshaved scruff on his face. While his eyes look tired, his skin looks supple - especially around his throat, where the facial hair begins to fade away. Makoto is several inches shorter than him, but he doesn't allow himself to be intimidated.

"Listen. This is hard for all of us," he mumbles. Then... he goes for the metaphorical jugular. "You need to talk to Akihiko. He'll be more upset about you than he will about me. We need to get the hard part out of the way first."

He can't say he's surprised that this is what it all culminates in. It's the biggest unspoken problem among them all- the disparity of information. Everyone knows what happened, except for Akihiko, who remains blissfully unaware.

Remarkably, Shinjiro manages to keep from lashing at the direct order he gets. He even manages to flip the heat off the stove, because he knows that his attention won't be returning to lunch any time soon. Not until after this is argued and spat over between them and, likely, one of them decides to leave. Because Shinjiro already knows he isn't budging from his position, and he's sure that Makoto knows just what a metaphorical knock-down, drag-out fight it will be to try to get that to happen.

"You don't tell me what I 'need' to do," He starts icily, moving the pot from the heat before turning around for full confrontation. Despite the simmering ire clearly visible, he manages to keep his voice low with that constant facade of control.

"But let's humor you. What'll that even accomplish?" A snort, easily dismissive. "He'll get pissed and vow to keep it from happening. He doesn't accept things. He doesn't grieve, he doesn't move on. He just fucking latches to it and damn near kills himself to make it his responsibility to fix." Shoulders square, he stays fixed in his position, as though daring Makoto to try and move him on this. "And then when he can't do it, he blames himself. It tears him apart inside. So why in the hell would I tell him that we're gonna die and there ain't a damn thing he can do about it?"

"Because that's what death is," Makoto spits back, raising his voice. He glares right back at Shinjiro, his blood red eyes burning with insistence. He won't hesitate when it comes to this topic. It's a lesson he had to learn the hard way - part of that ordeal was Shinjiro's own self-sacrifice - and he remembers, knows, how much Akihiko grew in the wake of that sacrifice.

"You can't protect him forever. We are going to die, and there isn't anything he or anyone else can do about it," he continues, taking a step forward. "If you don't tell him, I will. What will he think when he finds out you're too much of a coward to tell him something so important?"

"Do you really think you're doing this for his sake, or just for your own?" The question could likely be asked right back to Shinjiro, but to him, the answer is clear as day. Makoto isn't wrong- death is an absolute (Mostly, except for in this strange world they'd found themselves in,) and his friend couldn't be sheltered from it forever. But there was no sense in making it worse now. in giving him any sort of false hope now. Better to let him come to terms with it naturally when it actually happened for him, rather than give him a pretense to try and fight back against, only to feel defeated when he fails to change it at all.

Sure, it's also self-serving. He won't deny that, and doesn't even recoil at the harsh truth of his own cowardice being thrown at him.

His hands clench, fists tightening down by his side at this impasse between them, at Makoto bringing up the threat of just doing it himself. This is something he absolutely won't back down on, even with that disturbingly red gaze piercing at him, the almost predatory approach of the other teen.

"You didn't answer my question. What's telling him even going to do that's better for him? I gave you my reasons. I hope you got somethin' better than just some 'he deserves to know' bullshit."

Shinjiro's accusations are nothing more than a soft breeze against a door made of stone. Of course it's for his sake, but it's also for Akihiko's sake and Shinjiro's sake and Fuuka's sake. The longer they postpone it, the worse it will be when it does happen.

And yes, that thought from earlier is still there in his mind: he still hasn't told Shinjiro exactly what happened after his death. What happened at the final full moon, the offer Ryoji had given them, everyone's unanimous decision to reject it... and what he meant when he said he'd died on graduation day.

If there's anything he should be charged with, it's being a coward himself for not telling him and Akihiko the truth. It made sense for Shinjiro to say his piece first, and for Makoto to wait until the two of them had recovered enough to tell his own secrets.

But, fine.

"Shuji Ikutsuki used all of us," he blurts out, his eyes blazing. "He never wanted to make Tartarus go away. He only cared about us because we had Personas and we could help him kick-off the damned apocalypse. When we fought the last Arcana, he tried to kill us, and after it was all done we learned that the world was going to end anyway!"

Even when upset, Makoto's anger is relatively subdued; he isn't raising his voice or peppering "fuck" between every other word or gesturing threateningly. But at the same time, the anger is, in a different way, unusually intense - the level of intense emotion on his face is unlike anything Shinjiro has ever seen from him.

"Everyone decided to fight it anyway, even if it was hopeless. Including Akihiko and Ken! And in the end, I still had to die in order to save them all, and I'd do it again if it came to that!"

Makoto's words don't make sense at first. Not when Shinjiro is already so keyed up, so deadset fixated on resolving this here and now. Not with his blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline burning inside him, feeling that instinctual urge to lash and fight until he's triumphant in this, his point made, Makoto backing down. The chairman's name is brought up, and Shinjiro is ready to completely tune out whatever the other teen wanted to bring him up for. They were talking about Akihiko here, over their past and his future, and whether or not it was cruel to tell him about a fate he was powerless to change--

"What are you--" But he cuts off as the words start catching up belatedly, only making sense well after they're spoken. And were he in a more stable mindset, maybe he'd be willing to actually step back and process what it all means. Exactly how much had changed after his death, what everyone had gone through.

But he had died. Everything that Makoto is telling him is from a future he has no part of. Finally, he shakes his head. He can't focus on all this right now- is this about Makoto's baggage? About his hangups over death?

A growl, and Shinjiro finally stalks closer- and if the other man were wearing a shirt, maybe he would have hauled him up by the collar, gotten in his face even more- as is, he just unconsciously uses his height to loom, close enough that he's sure Makoto could feel his breath.

"Yeah? Good for you. You think telling me is gonna change anything? Or change my mind?" A snort, and he glares down at the other teen, lip once again curling in a snarl. Its as though whatever Makoto had decided to unload had been immediately cast away, Shinjiro not able to even pause for a moment to actualize the weight of it. Any other day, and this would be the start of a long, deep conversation- questions and disbelief and needing an account to understand just what they'd actually been doing all that time, if not managing to tackle the Dark Hour itself. But clearly that's not on the agenda today.

"How 'bout you just step off and let me handle my own shit."

It wasn't hard to predict that Shinjiro would react like this. "Step off, let me take care of my own shit" - same thing, different day. Agitated as he is, he stands firm, meeting his glare with equal anger. He feels no remorse for telling him like this - at least, not at the moment - and no persuasion from his insistence that it's all pointless.

Scoffing, he finally looks away, only to walk around Shinjiro to head back to the stairs. There's no point in saying anything else right now. He feels like shit, Shinjiro likely feels like shit even if he keeps it to himself, and they're both pissed. And Makoto is aware, deep down, that he'll get off easy if he can end this encounter without getting punched.

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what is the sesame street number of the day??

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