Five Years #2: Boxed Memories
Makoto: Sou. Sou, I can’t. I’m all talked out. I have nothing else to add to the conversation. You were tired to begin with, how are you even still able to form words?
Sousuke: Mako used SEXY; it was super effective.
Makoto: Sou, I hate you. I hate you and your smug face.
Sousuke: You’re not even looking at me.
Makoto: You think I don’t know what your face is doing right now?
Sousuke: It’s like that, huh? Alright. Do you know what my hand is doing right now?
Makoto: No, but if it finds its way under the sheet and onto me, it and the body it’s attached to won’t be holding any conversations for a while.
Sousuke: Who taught you to talk like that?
Makoto: I’m serious, Sou; I am all talked out.
Sousuke: Oh, you’re serious? What about how serious I was when I told you I just wanted to talk about the weather? But no, Mako just had to have it his way. So, like the doting boyfriend I am, I let him have it. Now he’s lying here, supremely exhausted and satisfied, but what did I get out of it? I got all worked up, so much so that I can't even go to sleep even though I’m dead tired. And now I still have things to say, but no one to say them to...and...I really don't want to talk to myself.
Makoto: ...You know I would if I could, but, really...
Sousuke: I know, Ma, I'm just trying to make you feel bad.
Makoto: ...
Sousuke: Well, how about we change the topic, then?
Makoto: Eh?
Sousuke: What’s in the box?