Chapter Text
Listen to the Soundtrack by Smokingbomber here.
“It's literally the year thirty forty three, how is this still even an issue?!”
Fernando stepped out of the bathroom - naked and moist from the shower, a foamy toothbrush slack in his jaw - so he could better get his point across. “Becaush, you're de one who’b making dis a problem in de first plate by blowing it out of brobortion.” Having conveyed his argument to his satisfaction, he headed back in to continue with his oral hygiene routine.
“Y-” Makoto had to physically bite her bottom lip to stop herself from answering him in a way that was surely going to escalate what was currently a mildly heated discussion into a full-blown argument. “You didn't just say that.”
He gargled and spat before answering. “Look, I already said I was sorry. The fuck more do you want, babe?”
She scoffed at his audacity. “What I want , you giant ass, is for you not to do these kind of things in the first place!”
“I’m sorry I’m not completely infallible. I make mistakes just like the rest of the goddamn human race does,” he popped his head out and pointed his razor at her, “including you.”
“It wasn’t about the screw up. It’s about you doing stuff like this all the time . It wouldn’t matter if we were still naive, broken kids with a boat load of issues,” she said, “but we’re literally the oldest, most powerful beings on the planet! Grow the hell up. You’ve had a thousand years, that’s plenty of time to learn not to do these stupid kinds of things.”
“We were asleep for most of that,” he called out as he tapped the shaving cream out of the blade.
“Stop being pedantic, you know what I mean.”
“Whatever, and it wasn’t stupid. Reckless? Sure. Rude? Maybe a little, but-”
“Reckless?! How about completely disrespectful and childish?” She tossed her eye pencil on the counter, unable to concentrate on not poking herself blind with it when she was so angry. “Why aren’t you taking what I’m saying seriously?”
“How can I when you’re asking me to do the impossible?” He walked into the bedroom and pulled on his boxer-briefs. “I’ve already apologised, what more can I physically do? You want me to break the laws of the universe and sneak into the time gate so I can go back t-”
“Your apology doesn’t mean shit, Nando,” she interrupted, “when you’re just going to do it again at some point.”
He ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair. “ How, ” he asked dramatically, “can I guarantee that something will never happen? We’re practically immortal. Probability dictates that in all freaking likelihood it will happen again. What? You want me to lie?!”
That was the last straw. She was done. They’d been at it all morning and she was not going to let him get her angrier than she already was. He knew exactly what she wanted from him and he was deliberately not giving it to her. His apology wasn't enough because he didn’t mean it, not really. He’d said it himself, faced with a similar situation in the future, he was making no guarantees that he wouldn’t do the same thing again.
Jerk.
Staunchly refusing to make eye contact with him through the vanity mirror, she took in a deep breath, calming the rage coursing through her. Despite being the less stubborn of the two of them, she had the quicker temper and was thus usually the one to say something that she would almost immediately regret, which normally meant she was the one to apologise first. Not this time - she was not going to let him have this one. Today, she was going to take the high road. Pleased with her planned course of action, she leaned forward and began applying her black pencil to the other eye.
Having not received a reply to his last comment, Nando was mistakenly under the impression that their argument was over and that he had come out of it the victor. “Babe, where’s the shirt I was going to wear today?” There was no harm being decent about it and simply moving on without gloating.
She ignored him as he began hunting in the adjoining wardrobe-room for clothing. “Babe?” he prompted.
Makoto moved onto a top coat of lip gloss.
He let out a loud and exaggerated groan. “Seriously?! The actual silent treatment?”
She got up, walked past him and began dressing without so much as sparing him a glance.
“Ok, fine. I’ll play this game, but know this, babe: when I play, I play to win. ”
Makoto didn’t even bother to roll her eyes. Instead, she slipped on her nude pumps and chose a matching handbag before gliding out the room.
It was already driving him to distraction. “Come oooooooon, will you just talk to me?!”
She slammed the door shut behind her.
“I’ll take that as a no, then.” He sighed and flopped himself backwards onto the bed. “Shit.”