REQUESTED BY:  Alyssajj11 

A/N: Hey, it's been a while. Sorry for the hiatus; I got caught up in my FF.net projects. You finally get a semi-fluffy Makoto oneshot! I hope you all enjoy.

Oh! Also, thank you all for 30K! It gives me warm fuzzies to see how many of you have enjoyed this book. Sorry that this has to come so late (it's practically at 40K now), but consider this a special.

Slight content warning: Mentions death and suicide, because this is Danganronpa and death comes just as naturally as food in that universe.

--

The clock's loud ticking made her head pulse with pain.

Their screams had woken her again. Her friends' terrified faces had firmly planted themselves in her mind's eye and she was forced to keep reliving the horrors from Hope's Peak, over, and over, and over again.

Most nights, it was Sakura's grisly suicide and Aoi's anguished sobs, but tonight, it was Makoto's botched execution that she dreamt of. Her best friend sent to die for a murder they both knew he hadn't committed haunted her worst nightmares. The sheer terror on his face as that crusher came closer and closer to ending his life...

(y/n) let out a tiny sob as she scrubbed viciously at her eyelids with her fists. She couldn't afford to keep doing this. She had to forget. She had to hold onto hope, like Munakata said.

She was supposed to be the Ultimate Chemist, she was supposed to know how to fix this!

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she desperately wished she could find a way to forget, the memories came back and taunted her. Sayaka. Chihiro. Kiyotaka. Sakura.

She thought back to the debates, when everyone was wildly flinging accusations at one another. More than once, someone had implicated her, as she had usually been a cheerful girl who liked to be around others. More than once, she'd come close to death, but thankfully, Kyoko and Makoto were there to save her skin and bring the real killer to justice. She could still feel their accusatory, disgusted stares on her skin, even though the accusers were long dead. It made her skin crawl with discomfort, and she had to take a look around the room to make sure she wasn't being watched by any security cameras.

The alarm clock caught her eye, and its bright red numbers momentarily brought a flashback to Junko's puppet bear. Fresh tears filled her eyes and she had to look away. Only three-ten in the morning. There was no way she was getting back to sleep easily now.

She sniffled. It just wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair! Their class had so many hopes and dreams for the future, and someone just waltzes on in and fucks everything up? Hope's Peak was supposed to be a light for the future! Yet like with everything else, someone else had come and casually blown out the flame, leaving its staff and students in darkness.

She could vividly remember the fake Junko -- who had really been Mukuro, unbeknownst to everyone. The girl's persona had been bubbly and a little rude, but she could see a genuine fondness inside of her for her classmates. The first day in Hell had been a rough one, beginning with her untimely demise. All she wanted was to get out with the rest of them, and yet she was made the first target. She had confided in (y/n) that she actually didn't even really like modeling, but it came with her talent. She'd offered her a makeover one of the days that they'd spend together in the school... but that day never came.

And next, there was Sayaka. The girl had been friendly with (y/n) for the grand total of a few days that they spent in relative normalcy. She talked of her troupe of idols and how eager she was to get back to them. They giggled together over Sayaka's mini-crush on Makoto, and (y/n) had cried the hardest when she found Sayaka's body in the shower. After the sadness came the anger at her -- the anger of trying to get Makoto killed -- but eventually it fizzled away, leaving her hollow. Those bloody halls had sapped every ounce of optimism that she'd entered with. If it hadn't been for Makoto and Aoi, her closest friends in that cursed hellhole, she would have turned to despair a lot sooner.

And Makoto. The boy with a determination to match his fierce optimism about life. Even before the memories of their time together had come back, she found herself gravitating towards him, much like many other of their classmates. He was bright sunshine in the gloominess that pervaded their group, a fresh spring breeze after a harsh winter. She'd found herself falling in love with him as things progressed, and by the time they got out, she almost found comfort in the idea that he was crushing right back on her.

But as far as she knew, he was involved with Kyoko -- and although it hurt, she accepted it. Of all people, he deserved the happiness. It was the least that was owed of him after he'd gotten them all out of there. Of everything, he deserved much, much better than her.

-

Meanwhile, Makoto found himself unable to sleep.

The brunet stared up at the ceiling with furrowed brows, his worries keeping him from finally drifting off. It had been about six days since he'd last seen (y/n), and he was growing more and more worried about her.

Ever since the murders, she hadn't quite been the same. None of them had, actually. The sobering realization of their predicament had aged them in ways none could really fully put to words. Any and all naive optimism had been stamped right out of them the second the first murder occurred. For a time, even Makoto had thought to himself that there really was no getting out alive.

(y/n) had been a chipper girl for a lot of the Killing Game -- always seeking comfort in others, always eager to help. It had been comforting to have at least one person putting on a facade, as if their situation was perfectly normal and as if nobody was dying. But once Chihiro was killed, she grew quieter, more moody. He'd attributed this change to the fact that she was one of the ones implicated in the murder -- being accused of killing one of your best friends in cold blood was something that you could never forget. Still, he figured that she was trying to hold on.

But then came Kiyotaka and Hifumi's murders, and she retreated even more into herself. It hadn't helped that Celestia had explicitly singled her out for her unlikely friendship with Hifumi -- the two had bonded somewhat over their choice in dating sims, oddly enough. She had broken down in tears during the trial, tearfully insisting that she hadn't done it, that she couldn't kill the one person who wouldn't judge her for her tastes -- and when the actual murderer was revealed, she'd momentarily snapped -- she reached across the podium, reared her hand back, and backhanded Celestia right across the face, making her stumble a bit. The blazing fury in her eyes had made even Byakuya take a step back -- and if that didn't, her furious screaming at the wannabe-princess certainly did.

"You killed the only person who actually liked otomes here, you ungrateful bitch!" She'd screeched in Celestia's calm facade. "How dare you? How dare you?!"

In the end, Sakura had to restrain her as Celestia was led to her execution. She was sobbing brokenly into the taller girl's chest until the last flame was extinguished, and it had broken Makoto's heart.

She'd quickly attached herself into Makoto's heart by the end. He had a soft spot for Kyoko, of course, but the one he wanted was (y/n). Kyoko was all for the two getting together, and thus far she'd been instrumental in getting her best friend and his crush to stop dancing around each other. For a while, it seemed like (y/n) was bouncing back -- she was slowly regaining her former cheerful attitude, helping Aoi out with this and that, pestering Byakuya into getting her some of that (f/tea) she liked, ghostwriting for Toko's latest romance novel (curiously named The Hopeful and the Despairing), and accepting invitations to lunch with him. He was starting to believe that he really did have a chance.

But one day, she'd been out scouting with Toko and his younger sister Komaru. On their trip through one of the desolate cities they'd run into brainwashed children -- and with them, she found one of the survivors of the Most Despairing Event, one Nagito Komaeda. Something had happened between them to send her reeling back into despair, and she'd locked herself inside her apartment for going on a full week now.

To say that he was concerned was an understatement -- every day he went to her apartment and knocked, but she never answered. He tried calling her cell phone, but she let it go to voicemail. For a day or so, he'd even thought her dead -- but Byakuya confirmed that she was alive, and so he went back with renewed vigor. He'd consulted Kyoko and Aoi about it, begging them to go see her. Neither were successful, nor was Toko or Byakuya. Even Yasuhiro couldn't get her to open the door, and she was one of the only ones who could stand his goofy theatrics.

Now, he almost thought of calling her again. But as he stole a quick glance at the clock beside his bed, he realized that she was probably trying to get some sleep.

He closed his eyes and tried to settle back into his pillow, but a nagging feeling kept pushing at him. Go talk to her.

"It's two in the morning," Makoto weakly protested. "She's trying to sleep."

Go talk to her.

"Even if she is awake, she hasn't opened the door for any of us." He shook his head, clenching his eyes even tighter.

Go talk to her.

Finally, the young man sighed. He got up from his bed.

Go talk to her.

He slipped out, putting on the sweater he'd worn in the Killing Game and going to the front door. He slipped on a pair of shoes and left the apartment, locking the door behind himself.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shuffled down the hallway, yawning into his arm. The building had no windows to the outside in case of attack, but he could imagine that the moon was shining brightly in the sky, a beacon of hope for the new day to come.

He quickly found her apartments and rose a hand to knock. "(y/n)...? It's me, Makoto..."

He paused. He heard nothing from inside, so he continued. "I... I don't know what happened between you two, but I'm really worried about you. I miss you, (y/n). I want to help you."

He thought he heard a sniffle from within, but he brushed it aside. "I know it's probably not the best time to be doing this, but-- but if you'll let me in..."

His next words died on his tongue, and he closed his mouth with a sigh. "I-- I'm sorry. I know it's super late, and I'm just talking to myself, but..."

He shrugged his shoulders loosely, mostly to himself, before he turned to leave. Just as he took a step away from the door, he heard the lock click, and slowly, the knob turned. His eyes widened as the door slowly opened, revealing a messy-haired, pale, sweaty (y/n), her eyes rimmed with red from the darkness.

Makoto's gaze softened as he beheld her. "(y/n)..."

Wordlessly, she sniffled and opened the door wider.

He quickly headed inside, the girl shutting and locking the door behind him. He shimmied out of his shoes before wrapping his arms around her shaking frame tight, burying his face in her slightly-greasy hair.

She hesitantly raised her arms to wrap around his neck.

The two stood like that for a few moments, no talking necessary. He could feel her emotions as keenly as if they were his own, and they made a pang of hurt strike his heart.

She tugged at the back of his sweater, and when he pulled away, she stared up into his eyes with unshed tears in her own. Her dry lips parted, and she whispered, "I don't deserve you."

"What do you mean?" He gently replied, brushing some hair out of her face.

"You deserve a better girl than me, Makoto," she continued, just as quietly. "Not someone who falls into despair the moment she's faced with ghosts of her past."

Frowning in puzzlement, he shook his head. "But (y/n), you're wrong. You deserve to be happy."

She closed her eyes, and the tears spilled over, trickling down her cheeks.

He observed her red-hot face, the dark bags underneath her eyes, and the sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead. Letting out a tiny sigh, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise, and he smiled down at her.

"You're wrong," he repeated tenderly. "You wanna know how I know?"

She didn't say anything in reply, so he continued. "It's because I know you, (y/n). I look at you and you know what I see? I see a spirited, dedicated girl who makes people smile."

He smoothed down her hair and continued. "I see a girl who makes friends faster than anyone I've ever known. I see a girl who treasures those friends dearly, even when her own life is on the line."

He leaned in closer, his breath fanning her face. "I see a girl who doesn't give up on hope. I see a girl who believed in me when no one else did."

She was blinking rapidly now, and he couldn't tell if it was because she was trying not to cry or if she was about to try and kiss him. "And most of all... when I look at you, I see a pretty girl who I wouldn't mind putting everything on the line for again."

His fingertips traced her face, and he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips. They were rough to the touch -- had she been biting off the skin there?

As soon as he pulled away, she was staring up at him, dumbfounded. Her cheeks were flushed, both from embarrassment and from her earlier tears, and she stammered, "I-- I-- Makoto, I don't-- I--"

"Please tell me I haven't read the signs wrong," he urged, desperately searching her face. "Do you like me?"

Her mouth opened and closed, faltering. She stared at him for a second before she closed her eyes, leaning in to rest her head against his collar.

"M-- Makoto..." she breathed, gripping his sweater. "Please don't do this to me. Don't give me hope."

"That's what I do," he gently chastised, holding her closer. "I'll always be here for you to stand against when you feel like you'll fall. I'll always be here to pick you up again."

Her back shuddered, and he heard her whimper. "Please, stop... I... I don't deserve this..."

"You do," he insisted.

"I don't," she argued, raising her head to stare him in the face, tears falling down her cheeks again. "I... I voted against you in the trial! I condemned you to death with the rest of them, even though I knew better! I'm a coward and a traitor!"

His eyes softened, and he cupped her cheeks. "That was then, (y/n). I've already forgiven you for that."

She let out a sob and collapsed against him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He gently looped an arm underneath her knees and hoisted her up against him, walking the both of them through the apartment to her living room. As soon as the couch came into view he sat down on it, hugging her to his chest as she cried. He ran a soothing hand across her back, mindful of her tangled hair.

When she began to calm, several minutes had passed and he was beginning to feel sleepy. She peeked almost shyly up at him and he smiled kindly. "Feel better?"

"Yeah..." she mumbled, looking down again. "'m sorry."

"I'm glad you got it out." He replied, resting his chin atop her head. "Do you feel sleepy?"

"A little." She yawned into her hand. "Can you stay? I've got a spare futon..."

"If you want."

She nodded, contemplating for a moment. Then she took a breath and looked up again. "I... I'm sorry for pushing you away, Makoto... I just... I don't want to be in the way."

"You're never in my way, (y/n)," he soothed. "I promise."

"I really, really like you, and I guess I just..." she bit her lip. "... I don't know what I was thinking..."

"We'll sleep on it, and then we can go for breakfast tomorrow." Makoto offered. "Does that sound okay?"

She nodded mutely, getting up off of his lap so that he could stand. She shyly grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers through his, a blush pinking her cheeks. "... thank you for checking on me..."

He smiled tenderly at her. "I'd do anything for you, (y/n). Remember that."

With a kiss to her temple and a soft grin in return, she led him to her hallway closet, where they got out the spare bedding.

--

A/N: Holy cow, I guess you can tell that I've been pushing myself to write longer chapters (thank AO3 for that). I really hope you enjoyed!

Please tell me what you thought, feel free to request more, and I'll see you... sometime!