Work Text:
•
‘Hikaru’ was loud. Louder than Yoshiki’s had ever been.
His every word blared through his mind, throwing into motion a plethora of dark thoughts and feelings that circled his head and threatened to pull him down into the land of no return. Where he was.
Where his Hikaru was waiting for him.
Even now, with ‘Hikaru’ sitting criss-crossed on Yoshiki’s bed, his copy of Hunter x Hunter in his hands and grey eyes focused on the pages, Yoshiki could not bring himself to relax. There was nothing wrong with the image. His Hikaru had loved the manga, and loved sitting in Yoshiki’s space like he owned it.
But he couldn’t bring his heart to submit to what his eyes claimed to see, or the voice his ears claimed to hear.
That same voice was babbling on and on, about things that had nothing to do with what he was reading. Yoshiki was only half-listening. Really, not listening at all. Because the more he looked at ‘Hikaru’, the more he felt his heart tear to pieces.
And it felt like something a little too similar to guilt.
“Hey, Yoshiki?”
Somehow, the way his name rolled off of ‘Hikaru’’s lips was the exact same but also vastly different from how his Hikaru said it. Whoever this was, sitting in his bed, could never replace him. He sounded too hesitant to speak, to reach out to Yoshiki using the voice of another. He sounded like he didn’t know how Yoshiki would reply, or take the questions. How could he have every one of his memories and still not know Yoshiki like the back of his hand?
“Man. You must’ve really loved him.”
Or maybe he did.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Yoshiki snapped, almost too quickly. Yet, the words still sounded meek and small coming from his mouth. His lip trembled, and it felt almost impossible to meet the intense gaze ‘Hikaru’ always carried.
“Sorry,” ‘Hikaru’ apologized a little quieter, “it’s just… you know. You don’t seem to be listening to me. But the second I bring up Hikaru, you’re all ears.”
Yoshiki mentally scolded himself for the warmth on his cheeks and the pink he knew was sprouting on the very tips of his ears by now. He peeked up at the imposter boy, letting his bangs hide his true line of vision. “I was listening. Keep talking.” Maybe if I listen to you long enough, you’ll actually start to sound like him.
‘Hikaru’ didn’t believe him for one second and he knew that. He finally put down his manga. “What even is love?”
What kind of a question was that?
“Huh?”
“I mean… It seems like it should be easy to identify. I mean, I can tell Hikaru had lots of love for ya. His memories of the two of y’all are very fond. I tried so hard to brighten your—“
“He. He tried so hard,” Yoshiki said, startled at his own bluntness. He allowed himself a second to calm down before opening his mouth again. “You aren’t him,” he whispered simply. The thought alone caused bile to churn deep inside him. But the feeling was short-lived. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been as dominant lately.
‘Hikaru’ didn’t reply at first. At that moment, it was probably the most stumped Yoshiki had ever seen him. He watched the rejection flood his face, and considered taking it back and reassuring him. But for some reason, he wanted— no, craved the confrontation.
And then ‘Hikaru’ began to cry.
It started with a slight twitch of the lips, a scrunch of the nose, and before long, he was a sobbing mess. He turned his face away from Yoshiki, arms wrapping around his own waist.
As much as Yoshiki harbored unresolved animosity towards ‘Hikaru’, it still broke something in him to watch him cry. His Hikaru had never cried. There had maybe been at most two exceptions. But for ‘Hikaru’ the tears seemed to flow freely, nothing more than a default expression of the emotions he didn’t know how to navigate.
Yoshiki stood from the floor and shuffled onto his bed, a hand ever so hesitantly reaching out to cup ‘Hikaru’’s face. He had never touched his Hikaru like that before. Not like this.
He wasn’t sure what to say, if he should say anything at all. Instead, he let the calloused fingers of his right hand brush repeatedly over ‘Hikaru’’s cheek, brushing away the tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Hik—“
“No,” he protested, shaking his head. “You meant it. You meant every word. I-I’m stupid for thinking I could mean to you what he did.”
Yoshiki did not know how to respond. Because he knew he was right.
But he was also, in a way, wrong.
By now, Yoshiki had realized for himself that he did not want ‘Hikaru’ to truly replace his. But it’s not like he wanted him to… go. His presence was just as comforting as it was off-putting. Just as healing as it was hurting.
“Hikaru, stop. Please,” Yoshiki pleaded under his breath. He still couldn’t handle the sight of Hikaru crying, tears falling down that perfectly tan skin. “I don’t need you to be what he was to me.”
‘Hikaru’ finally stared back into Yoshiki’s eyes, gaze vulnerable and open. The vulnerability made Yoshiki want to take off at a sprint and never come back to this godforsaken town. Maybe he could go somewhere where the beat of his heart in this very moment could still be considered normal.
“Really?”
Yoshiki regretted his words now. Who knew how ‘Hikaru’ would take them? Hell, maybe he’d get up and leave him alone, decide that he wanted to go live his own life and not Hikaru’s.
But something told Yoshiki that he wouldn’t do that; that he was right where he wanted to be.
Yoshiki wasn’t sure he could say the same.
“…Yeah, really. Honestly, I’d prefer it if you weren’t.” He couldn’t tell if the words coming out of his own mouth were true or not. His brain was working at a rapid pace to say something, anything that would make sure ‘Hikaru’ stayed stable and didn’t do anything that would make Yoshiki throw up for real this time. He couldn’t even handle the feeling of his cool skin against his palm.
Even less knowing Hikaru’s skin was always warm.
Except for when he died.
A lopsided smile spread across ‘Hikaru’’s face. “I love you, Yoshiki,” he said confidently. He wasn’t sure about it. In fact, it would’ve been more accurate to say he was trying out the words.
But to Yoshiki, it didn’t feel like that. How many times had Hikaru said he loved him? Had he ever uttered those words?
It was those same words that rang through Yoshiki’s mine every time he and Hikaru had been in the same room. Every time they were alone eating ice cream. Every time he would make a face that would have Yoshiki doubling over in laughter, and then admiring the bright, proud smile in front of him. Every time he would stop by Hikaru’s house to find him asleep, features full of grace and youth.
So badly, he’d wished to hear those words come out of Hikaru’s mouth one day. He knew it would never happen, no, could never happen, but he found himself imaging that situation countless times.
The thought disgusted him. The thought captivated him. The thought brought him to his knees and tears to his eyes and warmth to his cheeks and sickness to his stomach.
All because if anyone could say it and mean it, it would be Yoshiki himself.
“You idiot,” Yoshiki uttered. His hand finally fell from the other boy’s face. Instead, he brought it up to hide his own. Maybe because he was about to cry, but also maybe because he was now blushing. Nobody could see him like this, not when he was unintentionally spilling out his own disgusting parts of himself.
“I don’t know, that one rolled right off the tongue—“
“Go home, Hikaru.” The command left Yoshiki’s mouth a little harsher than he intended it to.
‘Hikaru’’s brows furrowed in confusion, but even then, he threw one leg off of the bed. “I thought you would’ve liked to hear—“
“Just go home, man! You can take the manga with you, I don’t care. I just want to be alone,” Yoshiki explained sharply, turning his head to the side and letting his bangs cover his face again, shielding his own monster from being recognized.
‘Hikaru’ did not go without leaving a thick layer of tension in Yoshiki’s room. He mumbled a goodbye and before Yoshiki knew it, he was back to being miserably alone. He curled himself into his bed sheets, and pulled his knees up and his body into a tight ball. It was now his turn to cry.
And not for any reason but the fact that ‘Hikaru’ had left in his bed his scent.
Yoshiki was lulled to sleep by the faint, sweet smell of watermelon, mint, and the subtle sweat of an average teenage boy.
A very dead boy, indeed.
•••
“Did I tell you what happened after lunch today?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, the next day, grinning from ear to ear as he and Yoshiki rode their bikes slowly along the bumpy road.
I love you, Yoshiki.
“Naw. What did?” Yoshiki asked, compelling himself to do as he did every other day since that night: act normal.
“There’s this girl. I can’t really remember her name, I guess Hikaru didn’t know her that well anyway. It was like Fujikawa… or maybe Fujiwara… I dunno. But anyway, she pulled me aside when you went to the bathroom and—“
Yoshiki stopped listening. But not by choice, this time. This time his brain short circuited as memories flooded into his mind, almost dizzying him and making him swerve on his bike.
There was always a girl with his Hikaru. More reason to believe that he could and would never think about Yoshiki in that way. Good for him.
Regardless, now, all Yoshiki could think about was how many times he’d had such a similar conversation with his Hikaru. How he’d always listen and offer his best insight, despite the gnawing at his chest he felt whenever Hikaru talked about girls.
Yoshiki never saw the appeal. Girls never saw Hikaru the way Yoshiki did. To them, he wasn’t as special. If he forgot to say hi to them in the halls, they’d probably find another guy’s arm to hold onto and Hikaru would sulk, groaning face down in the grass while Yoshiki finished his ice cream for ‘im.
So now this was passing on even after his death. Great.
“She told me she loves me.”
Yoshiki blinked. Oh?
“Ha! You should see your face right now!” ‘Hikaru’ beamed, chuckling to himself. He kept going even as Yoshiki huffed in embarrassment. “She said that she’d always admired Hikaru from afar, and she was so worried when he went missing. Honestly, I only remember her being in his memories once. She’d dropped a pencil or something.”
Oh. So he didn’t like her. “What did you say?” Yoshiki asked, careful not to say anything that would revive last night’s conversation.
“I told her I was already in love,” ‘Hikaru’ replied like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Yoshiki’s bike flipped after swerving over a rock on the road. He ended up crumpled on the ground, feeling paralyzed from head to toe.
“Dude! Did I throw ya off that bad?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, stopping his own bike to help Yoshiki up.
Yoshiki stared up at those red pupils. He couldn’t catch his breath. His left ankle stung. His bangs had flown out of place.
“Let’s just— let’s just keep going. To your house.” The words tumbled out of Yoshiki to make up for his current lack of composure. He couldn’t handle this anymore. He couldn’t sit here and pretend that his feelings, the ones he was plagued with, weren’t somehow getting even worse now that his Hikaru was gone. How much more suffering could he take?
With a shrug of his shoulders, ‘Hikaru’ agreed and they both continued their bike ride to his house. He still wasn’t sure if he made the right decision, telling Yoshiki that he was in love. Because if it was the wrong one, he might’ve ended up with another knife in his stolen chest.
•••
It was ‘Hikaru’’s turn to be the flustered one.
In what world would Yoshiki Tsujinaka be on top of him and not the other way around?
Apparently, this one.
It started off simply, or at least he thought. Yoshiki had been too startled over the topic of love. It only made ‘Hikaru’ want to dive deeper into it, find out more.
He wanted to figure out what Yoshiki’s limits were. He wanted to know why Yoshiki would immediately avert his eyes when he’d unbutton his shirt or inch a little too close. He wanted to understand love a little bit more, and what better way to do it by receiving it from someone else?
The first thing he noticed was the warmth that spread throughout his body, starting deep in his heart and concentrating around his neck and face. “Ya wanna know what this reminds me of?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, lying on his back on his own bed, hands tucked underneath his head while Yoshiki was just a couple centimeters too close, on his side with his head propped up by a fist. His other hand traveled along the lines of ‘Hikaru’’s face. Yoshiki really seemed to like his face.
“What?” Yoshiki asked, the words seeming to come out strained, as if they had been stuck in his throat before being tossed out. His hand was still trembling as he touched his skin. ‘Hikaru’ knew this was supposed to feel… intimate in a way he didn’t quite understand. But he wanted to.
With a cheeky smile, ‘Hikaru’ said, “Like the romance movies. I watched a couple with my mom. This would typically be the part where the main characters…,” he paused for suspense, and then grinned, “…kiss!”
Yoshiki froze. Uh oh. He’d hit a nerve.
He moved quickly, sitting straight up and beginning to breathe a little heavier. ‘Hikaru’ watched as a singular bead of sweat ran down his temple.
“Did I say something wrong, Yoshiki?”
Yoshiki erupted. “Yes! Hell, yes. We can’t… I can’t… Hikaru wouldn’t… two guys can’t—“
“Why not? Is that not what people do when they love eachother?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, not a singular cell of hesitation in his body. He could feel that he was close. Close to understanding a key part of love. Physical connection.
Yoshiki was shaking now, his emotions getting the best of him. He’d let this go way too far. He’d grown selfish, desperate, even.
His Hikaru was dead. He died last winter. He had not loved Yoshiki, and most definitely would not even think about kissing him of all things.
I love you, Yoshiki.
“It is,” Yoshiki whispered. “When two people love eachother, they’d typically kiss.”
‘Hikaru’ snickered. “We ain’t anything typical.”
Yoshiki stopped breathing. His heart sunk down to his feet, and that nauseous feeling rose again. “I wish— I wish we were,” he admitted.
“Yeah,” said the voice of Yoshiki’s beloved. “I know you do.”
The same lips that had once uttered of killing Yoshiki were now pressed against his.
The first thing that rolled through Yoshiki’s mind was one word and one sensation: gross.
His mind blanked, all of his senses poured into analyzing and processing this new sensation. He hasn’t kissed anyone since elementary school, when he and Asako had pretended to get married on the playground. Hikaru had been the priest. He’d abandoned his character to cackle when Yoshiki pulled away from Asako in disgust and Asako cried in embarrassment. It’s not that she’d had bad breath or anything— Yoshiki was just disgusted by the fact that her lips were on his.
And so that gross reaction when ‘Hikaru’’s slightly chapped lips touched his quickly turned into something else when his brain realized this was nothing like Asako.
This felt undeniably good.
Yoshiki felt like he was defying himself, his family, and everything he’d ever known as his left hand raised to grab ‘Hikaru’’s hip and then return the ever so soft kiss. Now, ‘Hikaru’’s skin felt warm as Yoshiki’s hand sat just under his button-up and on the skin of his hip.
He took matters into his own hands, deciding to make the most out of his already made mistake. He let the darkness flood his mind, and let the knot form in his core while he indulged in one of his most secret desires. Again and again, his lips captured ‘Hikaru’’s, as if to guide him on what to do even if he didn’t really know what he was doing himself.
He decided to go based off of what felt right, when this felt nothing but terribly wrong.
‘Hikaru’ made a soft sound when Yoshiki’s tongue grazed his bottom lip. The low whimper sent shivers up his own spine, shooting life through his veins. This was exciting. This was addicting. This was nothing like he’d ever experienced before.
He never wanted this to end. He wanted to mash his lips against Yoshiki’s for the rest of his damned life, to express his love in countless ways he couldn’t wait for Yoshiki to teach him about.
It wasn’t until Yoshiki made a slight gurgling sound that he realized he’d taken things too far.
Yoshiki was choking on him. His essence, his true form, had snuck out of the borrowed body and forced itself down Yoshiki’s throat, down his nostrils, even crawling into his ears. Tears formed in the corners of Yoshiki’s rolled back eyes.
‘Hikaru’ did not feel sorry at that moment. He almost felt proud to see the boy that loved him receive his love in return. It was refreshing, rejuvenating, and powerful.
At least until he was shoved off of his own bed and thrown onto his wooden bedroom floor, startled by the impact but void of pain.
Yoshiki remained on the bed, panting heavily, tears flowing freely now. He hicced and sobbed, fear and regret swimming in the pools of his dark eyes. But he didn’t say a word.
“Yoshiki, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go overboard,” ‘Hikaru’ lied through his teeth. He wished he had done more. He wanted Yoshiki all to himself.
The black haired boy shook his head quickly, disappointment weighing down his soft features. ‘Hikaru’ thought he could see a glare past the veil of Yoshiki’s bangs.
Then he remembered.
He was a monster. And the Hikaru Yoshiki really loved was one that did not love him back.
And was dead.