Archive of Our Own ^beta

I begin to feel a new tenderness toward you, very raw and unfamiliar, like what I remember of love when I was young — love that was so often foolish in its objectives but never in its choices, its intensities.

— “Crossroads”, by Louise Glücke

Hikaru felt fascinated with humans. Their customs, their feelings, the way they hid so much about themselves to fit in with their peers. 

Humans seemed quite fixated with love, too. Cried for it, died for it, lived for it.

Killed for it. This knowledge resonated deep within him, a pleased understanding behind the red glow of his pupils.

As Hikaru skimmed through the pages of an old teen magazine over his lap, his grey eyes fell on the topic below: “How to tell your crush you love them: best recipes for this upcoming Valentine’s Day!”.

So, to love was to gift sweets? With a hum, he leafed within his own memories of Hikaru being on the receiving end of several chocolates — mountains of them, in fact. Did all those girls truly “love” him? But— that would mean…

A quick memory came and went, of burnt chocolate pieces thrown into a trash can as his mother patted him on the head. Who were they for?

Hikaru thumbed at his bottom lip, deep in thought, and his line of sight easily went towards Yoshiki, like a sunflower following the Sun wherever it sauntered. Dear, sweet Yoshiki, who was currently doing homework a few feet ahead. Hikaru must’ve made some sort of noise from his place at the foot of Yoshiki’s bed since his friend suddenly stopped writing and returned the stare— or, well, whatever the equivalent was. Ever since they came back from the beach, it felt like Yoshiki wouldn’t dare to look him straight in the eyes, often redirecting his gaze to somewhere far away on his shoulder or right at the bridge of his nose. 

Hikaru pretended not to notice as he cocked his head to the side, snaggletooth shining ominously. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Yer staring at me”, Yoshiki mumbled, cheeks flushed and pretty under the summer light that cascaded through the curtains of his small room. “It’s… distracting”

It was Hikaru’s turn to blush, not dissimilar to a fox caught red-handed while stealing sheep. He often pondered if their mixing could be enhancing Yoshiki’s senses in some way.

He couldn’t know that Yoshiki didn’t need a sixth sense to feel the heaviness of his stare. 

“I was just wondering”, came the cheerful voice from the mouth he called his, “Why is it that only girls can give stuff during Valentine’s Day?”

When his curiosity was met with an awkward shoulder shrug, Hikaru pouted. The reaction seemed to spur something inside his friend, judging from the deep sigh that followed as Yoshiki’s face went back to his math book. 

“It’s the way it’s always been”, Yoshiki quietly replied, his calmness betraying the way his fingers gripped the mechanical pen. “Besides, uh, the guys can reciprocate on White Day, so…”

A frown made residence on the shorter boy’s features — whether from thinking too hard or from recalling how Hikaru did indeed reciprocate girls’ chocolates, he couldn’t say. Hikaru couldn’t imagine himself giving stuff to other people.

“Did you ever give a gift to someone?”, Hikaru suddenly asked, clutching the long-forgotten magazine as grey eyes zeroed in on Yoshiki’s profile. He recalled feeling as if he wouldn’t really mind Yoshiki being with someone else — and yet, he still felt something curling from within his insides, cold and angry and sad, so much so that Hikaru felt the need to breathe as his view followed the saunter of a drop of sweat down the other boy’s neck.

He wouldn’t mind it, he really wouldn’t; he just wanted to see Yoshiki happy and fulfilled. Didn’t mean it didn’t make Hikaru feel off about it.

Perhaps it was his weakening, but the monster inside of him appeared to quiet down to a low purr only when he saw the minute shake of his friend’s head, sad as it was. 

“Why not?”

The pen in Yoshiki’s hand fell limp, then, and the dark blue irises that held a soul so blinding finally crossed his own, as if searching for something hidden deep in Hikaru’s face. Or was it his face? Hikaru felt himself smiling again, extreme satisfaction crossing him under the scrutiny of the other’s stare. 

“Just ‘cause”, Yoshiki said at last, though his voice teetered on melancholy and annoyance. “Why are ya’ bringing this up anyway? It’s just a stupid tradition.”

“Because,” Hikaru brightened then, holding the magazine open with the same care one would with a treasured possession. “It says right here! Gifting is an act of love, right? Something you humans like?”

“Hikaru, that’s— You can’t put all humans in a single label—” 

“What about you?”, he kept going, his inherited impatience from Hikaru shining through as his body stood up and hurried towards Yoshiki. Unphased by the widened expression looking up at him, Hikaru dropped the thin papers on top of their homework, pointing at the pretty red and pink heart-shaped chocolate boxes. “Would ya’ like it? If someone gave you something like this? Do ya’ want this kinda’ romance too?”

Yoshiki’s mouth opened and closed comically, almost like a fish out of the water, too torn between deciding whether he should feel embarrassed or mortified. 

“I— I guess? No, wait, Hikaru—”, Yoshiki sighed, pressing a palm against his forehead as if his impending headache could sense where this line of thinking was heading. “It’s not about the gift, it’s—”

When Yoshiki stared up again, he felt his cheeks flushing warm against all the ringing alarms in his head. Hikaru looked so, so terribly earnest and intrigued that he could practically see gears turning behind the vibrant red pupils, looking at him with so much palpable affection that Yoshiki could feel it through their bond, could feel it burning on the marks in his right forearm. It pulsed rhythmically, and soon it spread everywhere on his body, drifting up his shoulder blades, neck, and clavicles, warming the small bone piece he kept close to his heart. When Hikaru’s smile turned tender with patience, the sweltering heat gave rise to diminute, shimmering dots in his vision, and the longer he gazed into those red eyes, the more scorching the fire consuming him became.

Oh. Oh no. 

“I wanted— want this kind of romance”, Yoshiki confessed in a shy voice, turning away to let his bangs fall over his eyes again. Hikaru vibrated at his side. “But I— Ya’ wouldn’t understand anyway, and that’s okay. You ain’t supposed to”

“But I want to get it, Yoshikiiii!”, Hikaru groaned, sitting atop Yoshiki’s desk (much to his despair). Untamed legs freely enclosed the taller boy’s knees between them, rubbing at his right thigh with one of his toes. A hushed gasp escaped Yoshiki’s throat, a sound that sparked a playful glint in Hikaru’s eyes. He lingered on its meaning for but a moment before curiosity overcame him and, with a teasing touch against his friend’s concealed face, he leaned in, closing the distance between them until he could feel the mingling of their breath. 

This close, he could almost taste his soul. Hikaru grinned once more, enthralled by how Yoshiki’s eyes didn’t seem to show fear, only— shame? Doubt? Anger? Or… Something else entirely? Nameless, lurking beneath? Even with his recently sharpened understanding of human emotions, the proper words kept eluding him. So Hikaru, as ever, relied on sensations.

And right now, with Yoshiki’s fingers tightly grasping the front of his wrinkled shirt, Hikaru couldn’t help but blink at the shiver coursing down his spine. He always felt cold, ill-fitted in his own skin, as though trapped in garments one size too small. But this — this stare, these dark eyes fixed wholly upon him— it made his insides twist, purr, and spasm with a torment so sharp it bordered on ecstasy. Was this how prey felt, poised on the edge of surrender? How deliciously exhilarating!

“I might feel it differently, but I wanna understand”, he repeated between their tiny shared space, “I wanna get it to make you happy, Yoshiki.” 

“...Because of Hikaru’s wish?”, came the choked sound of Yoshiki’s voice, dark blue eyes squinting.

“No”, Hikaru easily replied, “These aren’t Hikaru’s feelings. It’s mine. The monster’s feelings.”

Yoshiki’s eyes softened at that, even if his trembling hand kept Hikaru at bay. Vermillion flourished from the tips of his ears down to the curve of his neck, punctuated by the crystalline tears that began pooling on his lower lashes as his lips moved with no sound. It made the monster inhabiting Hikaru’s body coil unpleasantly in panic, wrongwrongwrongwrong he’s sad, I made him sad again— 

“Yoshiki”, Hikaru tried somberly, anxiety erupting through his veins. Distressed, he cupped both sides of Yoshiki’s face; he could sense his left pupil distorting as it was wont to do when shaken, and it took all of him to maintain it inside. “Why are you crying? I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Ya’ already… Make me happy”, Yoshiki sniffled, closing his eyes before taking a deep inhale, like the confession took all of his energy. At their opening, he pressed his hand against Hikaru’s chest with purpose, right above his heart— or, rather, where it should be. Hikaru knew he couldn’t feel a heartbeat there, but— if it made him happy, then maybe— “Don’t. You don’t have to make it beat.”

“...Okay”

Silence filled their bubble. Yoshiki’s sniffles slowly faded into nothingness while his hand moved across Hikaru’s covered chest, laying its final place down his sternum. Hikaru froze, his eyes sliding from Yoshiki’s face to the hand daring to rest upon the vulnerable hollow of his epigastrium. With nothing but a thought, he could have split himself open, spilled his warped existence and feasted on the beautiful soul that lay within his friend — and this imagery terrified him. It came as no surprise, really; nevertheless, it still managed to bring a blush to his cheeks that he did not quite understand. 

Hikaru had no concerns about death: it was, after all, a mere shift in one’s shape. Your soul remained drifting across the infinite expanse of the universe, waiting for its cycle of rebirth. Death wasn’t the end, just as birth wasn’t the beginning. 

Why was it, then, that it caused such unbearable sorrow to imagine losing Yoshiki’s physical presence? He already knew it, of course — Thought about it plenty on their way home from the beach during summer vacation: his soul alone would not be able to pet his head, to hold his hand, or dry his tears. He wouldn’t be able to hold him close and smell his herbal scent. As fulfilling as it would be to consume him entirely, Hikaru had no doubt he’d regret it for all eternity. 

Unable to endure the thought, Hikaru’s hands — resting upon the warmth of Yoshiki’s face — tightened with fragile caution, his fingers gently tracing over the birthmark just beneath the boy’s right eye, causing him to flutter his eyelashes slightly. Yoshiki wet his lips then, staring up at Hikaru with a sudden, albeit timid decisiveness.  

“Ya’ can do whatever you want”, Yoshiki murmured at last, the ghost of a smile tempting his lips after Hikaru’s wide, wide grin greeted him. “I know I told ya’ you don’t have to be human, and I meant it. But I also know you’re curious, so… It’s fine. It ain’t like I own you, anyway.”

Oh, Yoshiki could not be more wrong. Hikaru giggled at that and, enamoured, took Yoshiki’s hand between his own, pulling it up towards his own face to nuzzle against his palm. He didn’t miss how the taller one’s heartbeat skipped painfully, just as he didn’t miss his wet laugh — internally, he couldn’t help but wonder what Yoshiki would do if he knew just how much of Hikaru belonged to him. How he would tear this world and all the stars to fulfill any wish of his.

If he needed to learn how to be human to do so, then so be it, even if Yoshiki was strangely insistent on preserving his instincts.

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Thus began Hikaru’s mission to give Yoshiki a proper Valentine’s Day, no matter that it was the middle of June.

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“What would I give someone on Valentine’s Day…?” Asako pondered, rubbing her chin. Yuuki, who sat beside her, suddenly raised her head from the manga she was reading. As she kept thinking, Asako’s cheeks burned brightly. “Gosh, I don’t know! Chocolates are pretty standard, right? I’d probably like to make them myself, but I ain’t very good at cooking…”

“It’s the thought that counts”, Yuuki countered with a faint blush. When her friend nodded, her eyes shone with newfound interest in the topic. Hikaru tilted his head at the scene, humming thoughtfully. “Besides, doesn’t have to be sweets. Doesn’t have to be romantic either, you can gift stuff to your friends too.”

“Right! Ya’ gave me a muffin last Valentine’s Day!” Asako smiled, cuddling the smaller girl’s arm, who, in turn, seemed to blush harder despite the cocky grin she wore. “Well, I think it’s better if you make the gift yourself. Doesn’t it show yer intentions more clearly?”

“My intentions…”, Hikaru mused, staring at the girls’ linked arms. He would also like to do that with Yoshiki. There was so much he’d like to do with him, if only Yoshiki didn’t seem like he’d break down into tears whenever they touched. “Then, ya’ think that showing love through actions is better?”

At his words, Asako and Yuuki appeared to be momentarily stunned. Yuuki closed her eyes deeply in thought, but something in Asako’s shone with understanding. With a gentle expression, she reached for Hikaru’s hand over their school table and gave it a tender squeeze, capturing his attention. 

“Sometimes we have a hard time believing what we hear”, she said. “So we need to see to get it.” Then, after but a moment, Asako’s grin grew larger. “Who are ya’ gonna give something to?”

“Yoshiki”, Hikaru answered flatly. So matter-of-factly, indeed, as if there wasn’t any other possible answer, that Yuuki’s eyes violently opened and her flush increased tenfold with his honesty. “I wanna give him something that’ll make him happy.”

“Well”, Yuuki exhaled, trying her best to school down her smirk, “then I reckon anything will do.”

Asako wore a complicated expression, eyes fixed on the tanned hand of her friend’s body, before giving it another squeeze and sighing. Hikaru could only imagine what went through her head when, suddenly, her gaze’s intensity robbed him of his breath. A special kind of understanding lay there, cut open and bloody, one which made his insides buzz with affection.

“I think you should give him something honest”, Asako mumbled, lacking her usual cheerfulness. Her eyes went to the back of the classroom, where the subject of their conversation listened to Maki rambling on. “Ya’ know him best, so you probably already know what he’d like.”

As if summoned, Yoshiki turned his head just as Hikaru’s pale grey eyes fixed upon him. The instant their gazes locked, a smile curved unbidden across Hikaru’s lips, and he lifted a hand in greeting. Though Yoshiki’s face was flushed and shadowed by fatigue, Hikaru exhaled with deep satisfaction — for in this strange new life, almost nothing fed him as completely as Yoshiki’s nearness. A single glance into those eyes and into the constellation of moles scattered across his pale skin, and the entity sleeping within him writhed hungrily, tightening and uncoiling as if it could taste his warmth from such distance.

He hadn’t been sure about what kind of “love” this was — and perhaps he still wasn’t. But he knew he liked Yoshiki’s touch, liked how good and kind he was to a monster such as him. He loved feeling protected by his friend, even if they both knew Hikaru didn’t truly need a human’s shield. He— loved Yoshiki. Hikaru was as sure of this as he was sure a new dawn would arrive and that cicadas would buzz at night. Despite everything; or rather, because of everything, Hikaru knew he would love him until his very being burned into ashes. So, perhaps he didn’t need to put a human definition on his love.

Hikaru’s eyes widened, a familiar burning sensation rising unannounced up his throat before his body could control it.

“Oh”, Hikaru gasped as a sharp pain hit the soft place where his xiphoid process would be, grasping his uniform as some sort of epiphany washed over him and blooming red dahlias painted his cheeks. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the brightest soul of all, who momentarily looked at his own scarred arm in confusion, as if it flared. “I get it…”

To love was to accept. To love was to be changed. 

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It was Sunday morning. The Sun set high in the sky, unforgiving in its heat, while cicadas flew and buzzed around the sunflower fields. Yoshiki was tidying up his bedroom when hurrying footsteps entered downstairs and, soon enough, came the sound of a well-known rhythmic knock. He didn’t have to ask to know who it was, but it still managed to surprise him — Hikaru never woke up this early. 

Yoshiki bit his lip. He knew they couldn’t be more different, and yet—

“Come in”, he found himself saying before his thoughts took him somewhere unpleasant, smoothing down his black cotton shirt.

The door opened, and with it came the refreshing smell of flowers and the loud, warm presence of his best friend. Stunned, Yoshiki stared dumbfounded at the bouquet of red carnations and daisies that were nearly shoved into his face.

“Morning!” Hikaru exclaimed gleefully, snaggletooth shining from its place in his— shy grin? “Uhm, these are for ya’… I-If you’d like.”

Hikaru stood at his doorway in what might have been the finest attire Yoshiki had ever seen upon him: a white linen shirt, buttoned only to the hollow of his chest, sleeves pushed carelessly to the crook of his forearms. His legs were clad in simple off-white shorts, giving him the air of some uncanny angel— one whose brilliance only sharpened the unnatural crimson of his eyes, so similar to an albino python. The sight stole Yoshiki’s breath, strangling his words before they could form. Hikaru’s usually wild hair had, at some forgotten moment between the Indou household and his own, been combed back, though already it seemed to rebel, falling into disarray again. It was so different from his usually bright colors, as if he had spent hours picking the pieces apart, and— 

Yoshiki could not have found him more unbearably endearing.

“What are you doing?”, Yoshiki cleared his throat after a moment of silence, struggling to get any words out. He felt his face flush in hellfire, unable to look away from the creature wearing his friend’s features. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, like a rabbit about to be eaten by a stalking wolf. “Do— Do ya’ even know what this looks like?”

Hikaru seemed a bit confused at his reaction and cocked a white eyebrow, looking at the taller boy as if he had grown a second head.

“Of course”, Hikaru said simply, sincerity dripping like honey. Then, as if to mark his point further, he extended the arm holding the bouquet deeper into Yoshiki's space, walking closer until they were less than two steps apart. God, he smells good. “I'm taking ya’ out on a date! Scandalous, right?”

Yoshiki's eyes kept exchanging places between the red and white flowers and the soft vermillion blossoms on Hikaru's face. He briefly recalled how Hikaru often forgot to perform basic human functions such as making his heart beat; so, he couldn't help but wonder if he was purposely making his body blush. And if so— if this meant Hikaru was doing everything on purpose— Why with him, of all people— 

‘I've only ever been acting in line with what I wanted’, Hikaru had told him before. Back then, it seemed preposterous to believe him. But— Hikaru had no human morals tying him, no human shame to intercede in the way of his desires. He had never been anything but honest, hadn’t he?

“Yoshiki…?”, Hikaru's soft voice called him, bringing forth more and more red tulips until no pale spot remained on Yoshiki's face, competing with his moles the further he recalled their previous conversation this week about Valentine’s Day. Even though he felt unable to answer, he didn't miss the way Hikaru's breath hitched.

“Okay”, Yoshiki giggled a bit deliriously, feeling as though he were floating even if the bouquet now in his hands felt heavier than life. This can't be happening. “T-Thank you, I— How d-did ya’ even pick these up…?”

“Mom had a book about the language of flowers!”, Hikaru preened, slight dimples being born with the force of his grin. “Humans are so cute, you always find meaning in the smallest of things. Do ya’ like them?”

I love them. I love everything. How can you be everything I’ve ever wanted? Yoshiki's right arm tingled and, suddenly, he found the marks more beautiful than ever. The force of this realization nearly made him sob. 

“They're… pretty”, he settled for, bringing them closer to smell them as a way to mask the burning tears threatening their fall. Yoshiki exhaled through his nose, looking up in time to see Hikaru staring at him with that unblinking gaze of his — light grey eyes marked by their red pupils, shining impossibly brighter after his response despite the dim light of his bedroom. He gulped again, hands shaking once he realised that it meant that Hikaru had handpicked the flowers based on their meaning.

He didn’t think he could ask him about it outright. Perhaps he was afraid of what answer he would get. 

“Whew, I’m glad! Should we get a vase for them? I don’t want them to die too quickly…”

Yoshiki tried not to think of the irony in his words and simply nodded before going downstairs, Hikaru trutting cheerfully behind him at all times. 

The red and white bouquet ended on a previously broken ceramic vase, which was glued back together by him and Kaoru a while ago. Although a bit hesitant at first, he decided that the windowsill by the living room was the most inconspicuous choice — and, after leaving Hikaru to coo at the colorful petals, Yoshiki feverishly went back to his bedroom to get changed. This wasn’t happening, was it? Surely Hikaru didn’t know what a date meant, never mind the implications of what he’s been doing so far.

They went out together all the time; so, maybe Yoshiki could survive today by thinking of it under the same judgment. 

Something within decided that, even if this wasn’t a romantic date, he couldn’t let Hikaru, of all people, try harder than him: so, he got changed into a navy blue linen shirt with a button-down collar and a simple pair of cream-colored pants — and, before going back, figured he should brush his hair; about as well dressed as one could be on this kind of town, he pondered. He really made a fair attempt at not trying too hard; yet it still managed to create a funny expression on Hikaru’s face, who currently stared at him with eyes big enough to look like a newborn kit. 

“W-What is it?”, then, a thought— “Do I look weird?”

“You look…”, Hikaru gulped, bringing his hands to cover his own mouth. It flustered Yoshiki endlessly. “Ya’ look so good! What is this…”

“Please stop talking”, Yoshiki gagged, feeling himself get even warmer when the other boy got closer again, giggling. Hikaru went to grab one of his hands, only to tilt his head to the side in confusion when Yoshiki slapped it away. “That’s—! We can’t do that outside, Hikaru!”

“Oh”, the boy mumbled, pouting. “But… The magazine said we should hold hands on a date…”

This couldn’t be happening. “That’s stuff for a boy and a girl, we— we can’t…”, Yoshiki turned his head away, clutching anxiously at his arm. “I’m sorry. I can’t. They’ll— They’ll talk…”

Hikaru’s gaze lingered on him with unsettling thoughtfulness, his insides writhing viciously, souring his tongue with the urge to consume anyone who dared cast those doubts across Yoshiki’s face. Instead, he forced the tendrils back, his fingers catching at the hem of Yoshiki’s sleeve as he looked up with a disarming, almost childlike plea. “Then… can I just hold onto yer sleeve? Please, Yoshiki?”

Oh, this boy would be the end of him. He knew, with a certainty that hollowed his chest, that agreeing was a mistake— a cruel indulgence that was unfair to them both. Yet how could he refuse when those crimson spirals ensnared him like a curse, pulling him underwater with their terrible beauty?

Sometimes, he wondered what Hikaru truly saw when he looked at him. Other times— like now, with that gaze fixed upon him as though he were the sole axis of creation, as though he were both sanctuary and universe — Yoshiki realised he did not need to imagine. And the weight of that knowledge shook him to the marrow, cursing a shiver through his spine and a forest fire through the picture of their mixing. 

Yoshiki looked away, but let himself be pulled further into Hikaru’s space. 

“Alright. Where are we going?”

The force of Hikaru’s smile nearly blinded him.

To his surprise, Hikaru had apparently done his research on human dates. After spending a couple of hours at the arcade and successfully catching a Master + Master figurine for him at the claw machine, Yoshiki was surprised to see a medium-sized, dragonfly-shaped plush being carefully put into his hands in exchange. When Hikaru told him, with a proud grin and sparkly eyes, that he got it for him at the water gun game, Yoshiki had to breathe deeply to not scream about how cute it was — not that he would ever tell Hikaru that. Or that he needed to, if the way his eyes shone said anything.

Yoshiki tried not to fixate too much on the way Hikaru walked so closely to him, rubbing their shoulders together and keeping tight to his request of holding his sleeve. And, if Yoshiki eventually decided to intertwine their hands at some point, Hikaru was kind enough not to comment on it until they had to separate to ride his bike. Furthermore, if Yoshiki had to hold Hikaru’s waist a little tighter to not fall during the ride, who could blame him?

Afterwards, Hikaru took them to a new cat café by the train station and, despite being distracted by all the fat cats sleeping around the space, still managed to maintain his attention mostly on Yoshiki. It was — a bittersweet experience, if he were to be honest. This used to be all that he ever wanted back when Hikaru was alive: to have his first date with his first love. Yet, as he stared at the heart-shaped foam floating on his cup of coffee and heard Hikaru’s camera go off with a low giggle, Yoshiki found his eyes roaming the other boy’s face.

Same white eyebrows, same light grey eyes, shadowed by those long, light colored lashes. Same straight nose, same protruding snaggletooth. Same short, wavy hair. Same white skin, easily tanned and sun-kissed, unblemished and pretty.

Same voice, except now he could tell how his pitch seemed off — Hikaru was so often playful in his manners and, even though he seemed sincere, mostly felt like a closed book. A mature child, forced to grow too quickly. Hikaru was as open and honest as he could be, unruled by the shackles of human shame and loving willingly and willingly loving. Hikaru seemed to feel fulfilled and satisfied just by being at his side.

His smile wasn’t mocking. His touch, freely unbidden and inviting. And his eyes—

They were terrifying. They made him feel safe, welcoming his adoring presence, so much so that it scared Yoshiki endlessly. It made him long for the Frankenstein mimicry in front of him: this strange, cruel mixture of the one he couldn't have and of the one he shouldn't want.

“I’m glad, you know”, Hikaru’s voice turned small, almost shy, and it stunned Yoshiki out of his daydreams. Hikaru was poking at a cat-shaped watermelon-flavored jelly with a fork as he talked. The dragonfly plush stared at them from its place by Yoshiki’s open bag. “That ya’ came here with me. Ever since I tried going back to the mountain, ya’ haven’t been looking at my eyes… I thought ya’ were mad.”

Yoshiki flushed, though mostly out of shame. In truth, he was. He was mad at himself for letting things get so out of hand, for letting Hikaru feel as though he wasn’t wanted even after he had found a home at last. But— it wasn’t normal, looking at the naked expense of his neck and wanting to sink his teeth into it. It wasn’t normal, starting to be used to the cold feel of his insides. It was dangerous, and this god forsaken town preyed on unholy desires.

“…Sorry”, Yoshiki mumbled, finally staring up at him. “Ya’ didn’t do anything wrong, I… I just had a bunch of stuff on my mind.” Then, before he could hold himself back, Yoshiki brought his hand to rest against the top of Hikaru’s head, petting it gently. “Thanks for taking me out, Hikaru. This was fun.”

Hikaru smiled so brightly that it wrinkled his eyes, a peachy rosiness colouring the round cheeks. Yoshiki snorted at the sight, caressing the white locks by his temple— this movement made Hikaru’s mouth open slightly, clearly enjoying it greatly. He seemed to want to say something, so Yoshiki paused his ministrations while a faint blush spread over his own face.

“I had fun too! Oh, uhm…”, Hikaru stuttered as something crossed his mind. He rummaged inside his own backpack and, with a flourish, provided another singular red carnation, laying it gently at Yoshiki’s lap as discreetly as he could manage. “Uhm, happy Valentine’s Day! I had forgotten to say it, sorry…”

Yoshiki stared at the flower, flabbergasted, before his lips tipped in a fair attempt at holding his laughter. Hikaru made a whimpering, confused sound at the reaction.

“Wha—”

“Y-Ya’ know it’s not even Valentine’s Day, right?”, Yoshiki snickered, face flushed and content, too entertained by the display to feel embarrassed. Hikaru’s cheeks became impossibly redder, furrowing his nose and moving his head away.

“Of course I know that!” Hikaru protested, his voice cracking. “B-But— ya’ never got to celebrate it, did you? I just—” The words faltered, smothered beneath a sudden seriousness that drowned out Yoshiki’s laughter. Hikaru looked away then, fingers knotting restlessly together. “I know I can’t replace him… but you always make me so happy, Yoshiki. Even when you look so unbearably sad. I just wanted— to give ya’ a little of that happiness back, I guess…”

When Hikaru’s eyes lifted to his again, the crimson glow seemed dimmed by tears that refused to fall. Guilt struck heavy in Yoshiki’s chest, a hollow throb that made it difficult to breathe.

“You did!” Yoshiki blurted, reaching across the table to seize his hand with sudden urgency. The flower trembled in his other palm, its petals fluttering as if to shield it. “Y-You do, Hikaru! I… I don’t even see ya’ as him anymore, I told you so!”

“But…” Hikaru frowned, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Then why—” Why do you look so sad?

Silence descended, broken only by the droning of cicadas outside the window and the lonely drip of water in one of the cat fountains.

Yoshiki had no answer. If he confessed the monstrous longing gnawing at him, would the adoration in Hikaru’s gaze curdle into revulsion? He bit down on his lip, eyes shuttering as he failed to keep the smaller hand from slipping away. He heard a soft sigh, followed by the telltale sound of feet standing up.

“…We should go back.” Hikaru murmured, forcing a tight smile. Yoshiki could only nod, closing his bag with a soft snap as his fingers lingered to caress the velvet wings of the stuffed dragonfly.

Before they sat on Hikaru's bike, Yoshiki grabbed his hand. He kept the red carnation tightly grasped against his chest, eyes lowered to the ground, seemingly trying to gather courage from whatever God remained at Kubitachi as he breathed through his nose. 

Yoshiki aligned the claw just right, moving the joystick with proficiency and— there it was, another small figurine of Ron, from Master+Master. He heard ‘Hikaru’ screech happily and latch onto him, hugging him at the waist. There, with a smile as big as the Sun and dressed in white like a fallen angel, how could he not find him the epitome of love?

“Let's— let's go to yer house”, he stuttered. For a moment, he thought that Hikaru either didn’t hear him or decided to ignore him; however, as he looked up, he saw Hikaru’s pout give way to something akin to acceptance. The marks on his right forearm buzzed in alarm.

“Okay”, the boy answered, squeezing his fingers back. “But no one is there.” Will you feel safe being alone with me?, came the whispered question carried by the wind. 

Yoshiki exhaled, letting his fringe fall over his darker eyes. “It’s fine. I don’t wanna go home yet.”

I never felt as safe as when I’m with you.

The wood panels of the Indou’s porch felt cool against their feet under the unforgiving afternoon summer Sun. They had ridden the bike in silence and, upon reaching his house, Hikaru excused himself to grab a pair of icy pops while Yoshiki sat in the living room. He held the dragonfly plush in his hands, red carnation flower sleeping inside his front pocket, its soft perfume filling the air. 

Yoshiki’s eyes lingered on the stuffed animal — soft, yes, but far too realistic, its stitched body unsettling in its precision. The velvet wings fluttered beneath the slow current of the veranda fan, their shimmer making the crimson and turquoise of its body glow with unnatural brightness. It was beautiful, almost hypnotic, the way the gentle reds bled into blacks, blues and greens along its long frame, colors too vivid, too familiar. 

His breath caught as the realization crept in, enchanted.

Ah. They looked just like Hikaru’s colors.

“You sure like insects”, Hikaru’s voice resounded from behind, causing the older boy to direct his neck upwards. Even though his voice acquired a cheerful shift once more, his eyes didn’t quite match, forming a distressing picture when added to the tight-lipped smile.  

“I do.” Yoshiki nodded, accepting the freezing popsicle. He waited for Hikaru to sit beside him, icy pop dangling from his mouth. “It’s… cute”, he commented at last, promptly redirecting his gaze towards the rocky pathway giving entrance to the Indou’s back garden. 

There were very few things weirder than not hearing Hikaru’s rambles. With his peripheral vision, he could see his friend’s fingers twisting the seam of his thigh-length shorts, clearly thinking about how to fix the strange mood that afflicted them. It pulled at Yoshiki’s heartstrings, how Hikaru always seemed to feel guilty over all and every misery in Yoshiki’s life, even when it was no one’s fault but his own. 

“I might feel it differently, but I wanna understand”, he repeated between their tiny shared space, “I wanna get it to make you happy, Yoshiki.”

Yoshiki exhaled. Oh, what a fool he had been, hadn’t he? The word sorry brushed against his lips only to be swallowed back; how many times had he uttered it already today? And still, it never seemed enough. It could never be enough.

The popsicle in his left hand had begun to bleed down his fingers, a sticky sweetness trailing like veins of melting ice.

“I enjoyed it, Hikaru”, Yoshiki said softly, tasting the cold sugar against his tongue. Hikaru straightened, almost expectant. “The plush, the café… I don’t think I ever did anything like this before, so… It was fun.”, A fragile smile curved his lips as his gaze fell into those pale grey eyes, so near, so consuming. “You were amazing. Thanks.”

“It was a date.”, Hikaru corrected, his wet lips parting around a smile that was at once innocent and disquietingly alluring. The sight burned dangerously in Yoshiki’s chest. “I wanna take ya’ out on another one on the next Valentine’s Day, too!”

Yoshiki’s chest, already fevered with warmth, seemed to splinter into a thousand shards at Hikaru’s confession. His mouth opened and closed, helpless, as though any word spoken aloud might shatter the fragile dream taking shape on the porch. A nervous laugh escaped him instead, cheeks flushed, and in his clumsy grasp the popsicle slipped free, falling to the dirt at his feet.

“Shit, the icy pop!”

Then the buzzing came, like a cicada flying by his ears. Low at first, then searing, a resonance that filled his ears until it drowned everything else. Yoshiki staggered to his feet, pulse hammering. From its place on the minka floor, the dragonfly plush seemed to watch with glassy stillness, its velvet wings catching the faintest stir of air.

This was wrong. How disgusting.

“Uhm, t-thank you, Hikaru. But, when ya’ say date— uhm, two men can’t… do stuff like that…”

The words tasted bitter even as he spoke them. Yoshiki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly heavy with self-consciousness, his mood darkening. Hikaru had clearly researched, thought, planned — and it made Yoshiki feel cruel to crush those fragile expectations. However, when the older boy dared to look at him again, the vision he was met with strangled his words once more.

Hikaru’s sun-kissed cheeks colored with tender pinks and reds — colors that tugged at Yoshiki’s memory, heart-shaped chocolate boxes spilling into his thoughts. The younger boy pouted faintly, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt as his eyes darted between the wooden floorboards and Yoshiki himself. In that moment, he seemed less like the cosmic, dangerous being Yoshiki knew lurked within, and more like a blushing youth on the cusp of confessing his love.

“They can, though. That… ‘ell jee bee tee’ stuff, yeah? I saw it through his memories.” Hikaru said, lifting a hand to brush his white hair back while he bit off the leftover icy pop. Yoshiki paled. “I love ya’, Yoshiki. I— I wouldn’t dream of forgetting my place again, but— if that makes me gay in your human words, then…”

“Hikaru”, Yoshiki mumbled with embarrassment, clutching his shirt’s front pocket where the flower slept. Despite the neglect leaving his mouth, his posture looked tired and resigned, as if it bordered on hopeful acceptance. “It’s wrong. B-Besides, you said it yourself, ya’ don’t feel love like humans do and— Y-You’re just attached to me ‘cause of Hikaru’s wish, and we—”

The Princess and the Monster. Changing yourself for someone else, being transformed to the point of unrecognition by trivial things such as love — those and other human-like things — Hikaru didn’t need to know about them, Yoshiki thought. Such ugly things had no place in his naive, pure existence. He didn’t want him to know about the ugly cacophony of humankind; if he did, he risked turning into a disgusting creature like himself.

Before he could notice, Hikaru was already on his feet and standing in front of him, white lashes fluttering as they looked up at him with an unique sort of curiosity. Soft hands cradled his face; nervous, long fingers lingered on the moles on his cheek and cut down his train of thought.

Hikaru was touching his face, drawing his features with that feather-soft touch of his and brushing his bangs aside. A face he hated, being cradled so gently that a lovely spark set alight throughout his body — Yoshiki knew it wasn’t him, and how could it be when they were as different as the desert and the ocean? Guilt washed over him when his heart began blazing again; at how, recently, it seemed to also beat for the creature in front of him.

Had he and I ever been this close? Had he ever been this affectionate with me?

There, with the sun setting and the monster’s— with Hikaru’s lips pressed gently against the upper mole of his left cheek, so fervently and spilling holy reverence with his touch— Yoshiki wanted. He wanted so badly. 

“What do you want?”, Hikaru asked against his skin, as if he had read his mind. It wasn’t so inconceivable to believe he could.

I just want you.

You.

You.

You. Say it.

“I don’t know”, Yoshiki confided in a whimper, fluttering his eyes closed. Red petals fell from his hands as he kept clutching the delicate plant, letting his arms descend. Did that make him more of a monster than him? “I don’t know what I want.”

Hikaru pressed their foreheads together as he tiptoed, inhaling their mixed scents. He let Yoshiki’s breathing pattern relax in the quiet space and, when he felt like his whimpers wouldn’t turn into tears, opened his eyes to press another kiss to his skin, this time into the mole right beside his mouth corner. He could feel a heart thumping loudly — but whose?

“Can I tell ya’ about flowers?”

“...Yeah”, Yoshiki stared at him, face flushed, unable to pretend that he didn’t want to stay right where he was. Not when Hikaru’s knees were just barely brushing his, not when he wanted nothing more than to melt into the palms cupping his face and into the cold lips drawing stars into his jawline.

Hikaru trembled with emotions too big for his human body, the thing inside uncoiling and purring and crying. It twisted until it reached his left pupil, breaking the precise limits of his cornea and starting to extend outwards in an innate desire to touch Yoshiki with all of his being. The taller boy closed his eyes, letting it caress his skin and welcoming its familiarity.

“Red carnations mean ‘my heart aches for you’”, a gasp from someone, Hikaru’s voice pitch turning into deep static inside his brain. “Whatever I have in its place— if I have a soul, it aches for you, Yoshiki.”, he mumbled, lips reaching closer to Yoshiki’s mouth corner as his right thumb pressed the plump skin there. The undefinable mass of his existence flew around them, hugging the human wherever Hikaru’s hands couldn’t reach.

It felt different this time. The scent of sunflowers, daisies and carnations lingered in the summer air, the sun catching in Hikaru’s hair as it tickled against Yoshiki’s nose, the sweetness of the icy pops mingling from their touch. Tears pricked at his lashes — not from grief or pain, but from the tender adoration that poured uncompelled and unbidden from their bond, from the way the dark, iridescent tendrils grazed his skin with almost reverent care.

He was not being hunted. He was being… worshipped? The realization was too much and yet not enough; and, overwhelmed, Yoshiki found his knees surrendering to the wooden floor, held fast by the strength of Hikaru’s arms.

When he lifted his gaze, tears traced their quiet descent down his cheeks at the sight of the same expression mirrored in Hikaru’s face, half of it twisted in disarray. 

He despised seeing him cry. Hikaru rarely — if ever — did, and the sight only deepened the truth of how utterly, impossibly different they were. 

Yoshiki wanted. He wanted so badly. 

“And— daisies?”, Yoshiki asked shakily, risking a quivering hand to lay itself against the swirling side of his face — he paused briefly when Hikaru turned it away, eyes wide and afraid. After a beat, Yoshiki insisted on his journey and cradled his left cheek despite the lingering fear, turning it once more to face him. He gasped when tendrils curled around his wrist, wishing to bask in their inviting coldness, which contrasted so lovely with the raging fire of Hikaru’s shuddering smile against his palm.

“They mean ‘I love you truly’”, Hikaru’s voice buzzed and, with it, arrived a million, infinite explosions of light within the back of Yoshiki’s eyelids. He felt like fainting. “When are ya’ gonna believe me, Yoshiki…? What more can I say?” a sob, and Yoshiki’s chest wouldn’t stop hurting. 

“I-I do—”

“You don’t”, Hikaru gave a hollow, wet laugh that did not quite reach his remaining eye, “Maybe my love isn’t like yours. But it’s love all the same, so isn’t it enough? Can’t it be enough?”

Desperation blossomed on every nerve of Yoshiki’s body. He wanted, he wanted so badly— but how could he look at himself in the mirror if he did this to his best friend’s body? How could he live with himself with the knowledge that not only did he lust after Hikaru, but that this feeling didn’t disappear once he knew of the monster parading as him? How it increased once he felt this monster’s freeing affections towards him? What right did he have to keep this when he already carried so many sins? He was sick, twisted, unworthy of receiving such a selfless love from someone who simply didn’t know better— 

However. 

In the narrow confines of this world, Yoshiki couldn’t find a place to belong until Hikaru built him their crooked garden.

In truth, the love Hikaru bore could never be the same kind of love Yoshiki carried. How could it, when he was not even human to begin with? Whether some fragment of the original Hikaru’s feelings lingered within, Yoshiki would never know. But that uncertainty did not make the boy’s devotion any less real — especially as, with each passing day, he seemed more and more like his own being, drawing ever further from the body he had borrowed. He never asked Yoshiki for his answer in return, and yet— 

Yoshiki wanted Hikaru in so many ways. As his friend, as his salvation, as his predator. As skins and lips and teeth and fangs and claws. As a hitched breathless moan in the darkness or a lazy embrace in the sunrise. He wanted to consume him and to be consumed in turn, wanted to mix their souls until his old, pathetic self burned to ashes.

Oh.

Oh.

“Hikaru”, Yoshiki gasped, tightly embracing his arms around Hikaru’s waist and back with an urgency not dissimilar to a man holding a lifeboat by the open sea. He felt the open sobs as though they were his own, tears staining his shirt as the iridescent tendrils ascended his arms. When he opened his mouth, the words felt heavy and cutting, like he was one slicing open his heart. “It’s enough, Hikaru. You’re enough to me.”

“Y-Yer just saying that—”

“I’m not”, he countered, cradling Hikaru’s distorted face in the crook of his neck for a moment before he joined their foreheads again. Hikaru and his tendrils stilled, open eye red and puffy with tears, while his hands remained at Yoshiki’s hip, seemingly unwilling to part. Suddenly, however, he hid his face in the other’s neck again. “Look at me, Hikaru”

“I can’t”, Hikaru whimpered, voice slightly distorted and shaky, formless black mass attempting escape through the scar in his cervical. “I’m— I look disgusting now…”

Yoshiki furrowed his brow, eyes burning with such a response after recalling his own impression of his real shape not so long ago. It was terrifying, yes, but— How could someone so gentle be disgusting? As he stared up at the tendrils surrounding them, at the twirling black mass leaving through Hikaru’s left eye, Yoshiki found that his initial fear gave way to familiarity. And, as he felt the swirls grazing his sides, something warm and pleasurable electrified him from wherever they touched. 

“That’s not true”, Yoshiki whispered, slipping his hand beneath Hikaru’s chin to tilt his face upward. This time, he yielded without resistance, hope softening the disguise he wore. Yoshiki’s smile came unbidden, tender in its gentleness, as he brushed away the tears. “Don’t put human values on yerself, you could never be disgusting to me.”

“But— Yoshiki, I’m a monster!”, Hikaru cried openly, breath staggering when Yoshiki’s thumb reached the tear that dropped over his lips.

I don’t want ya’ to think of yourself like I think of me, he reflected, heart lurching forward painfully as his vision blurred. As a small tendril passed by his cheek, Yoshiki found himself nuzzling into it as he stared at the distorted face below, which momentarily seemed to shift quickly, torn between its human reflection and the truer form underneath. 

Yoshiki inhaled. As much as he denied it or looked away, Hikaru was a monster. It did not mean he wasn’t deserving of love.

“When I was a kid,” he started, doing small circles on Hikaru’s right mouth corner, “I liked monsters better. That didn’t change.”

The words seemed to strike somewhere deep. A tremor of air slipped past Hikaru’s lips, so heavy it dragged at his shoulders. And with it, the rippling iridescent waves washed back across his eye, remaking the contours of his borrowed face. For a moment the shimmer clung there, neither flesh nor light, a beauty unsettling in its fragility. Yoshiki let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, smile widening despite himself.

“...Do you mean it, Yoshiki?”, Hikaru said at last, grabbing Yoshiki’s hand to set it against his heart— there, he felt it thumping rapidly, so fast it seemed close to jumping out of his body. Hikaru’s eyes were sincere and hurt and, when his quivering hand came to rest upon the side of Yoshiki’s neck, bringing them closer all while a tendril circled his waist, Yoshiki was so stunned by the sight of Hikaru’s flushed face and vibrant irises that he could do nothing but hold his breath. For an instant, words failed him.

“I do”, he muttered, feeling a little breathless when Hikaru’s lips reached one of his moles again, almost as if the awkward, feather-light kiss culminated into hellfire. Vermillion colored his paleness unabashedly, hands trembling at their place over the back of the other’s white linen shirt. “Hikaru—”

“Thank you,” he smiled against his skin, sniffling. “Your moles are so beautiful…”, Hikaru mumbled then, pupils shining ever so brightly in red. He seemed concurrently dazed and utterly fixated, continuing with a trail of kisses following the watermelon seeds planted on his face. “I want to kiss them all, Yoshiki… Can I? Please?”

Yoshiki swallowed hard, a gasp breaking from his lips as Hikaru suddenly lowered himself onto his lap, long legs encircling his hips, trapping him in place. “Wait— What are ya—”

“I don’t know”, he admitted with a breathless giggle. Hikaru pulled apart a bit, only to lightly press a finger against Yoshiki’s lips, who parted them unforced. There, upon the tender inner ridge of his lower lip, a small, shadowed speck revealed itself — hidden until that moment of surrender. Hikaru’s voice fell to a hush.  “...Oh. Ya’ have a beauty mark right here, Yoshiki.”

For a couple of seconds, the only sounds between them were those of their mingling breaths and of the evening cicadas, singing loudly as night approached. Yoshiki could tell from their unspoken bond, from the way the boy stilled above him — ever since learning about human control, Hikaru would do nothing he did not want. This knowledge burned through him like a shooting star and, perhaps precisely because of this, fire coursed through his veins, a not-so-unfamiliar burn coiling in his belly. The thought that he could have such an infinite entity willingly at his disposal— it made him shudder and lick his lips, lightly grazing at the tanned fingertips. Sweetness filled every inch of his tongue and, darkly, he wondered what else he could taste.

“This is… wrong”, Yoshiki whispered half-heartedly, looking up at the white-haired youth with lidded eyes. Hikaru smiled softly at this, twirling his fingers across the back of his black hair with the tenderness of a benevolent God.

“I can’t use human values, remember?”, he laughed faintly. “But… Ya’ once told me that you’d shoulder every sin with me”, Hikaru muttered, inching himself closer enough to rub their noses together. The gesture’s tenderness stole the breath from Yoshiki who, overcome with emotion, at last shed the crystalline drops that were just teetering on the edge. Black waves of tendrils reached forward to dry them away, caressing his cheek with their freezing warmth. “So blame it all on me if ya’ want to. Please? Yoshiki?”

It seemed to be all the comfort he needed. 

“Please”, Yoshiki all but sobbed, grasping at his waist with the strength of a dying man, “Just kiss me already, Hikaru”

Hikaru preened at the permission and, after embracing Yoshiki’s shoulders entirely, locked their lips together with virginal softness.

All that Hikaru knew about romance came from the romance mangás he began reading a while ago and, even though this time he couldn’t go by from Hikaru’s experiences, the creature within appeared to simply be following his whims. It was no surprise, then, when even the smallest and purest of kisses caused this shape to disform, red pupils dilating and tendrils waving madly around him. Hikaru was simply pecking his mouth over and over again, yet it still provoked the uncurling of his insides; It purred, pleased and wanting, swallowing the gasps from Yoshiki’s throat, wondering how it would feel to once again set itself against his cartilages. 

Hikaru chastised himself. Then— as a fox biting down into a squirrel’s neck— decided to press harder at Yoshiki’s lips, carefully prying him open and slotting them together in a way that made the older boy’s toes curl and his hands search for Hikaru’s naked stomach under his shirt. He tasted like coffee and ice cream and happiness, his soul shining so brightly and warm and wonderful that Hikaru couldn’t possibly desire to be anywhere else, unable to forbid a giggle from escaping.

“Yoshiki”, Hikaru half-laughed, half-moaned, pitch failing when one of Yoshiki’s hands started to press itself against his belly. The skin below wavered, threatening to open, which only seemed to spur the other further into action. “I-I don’t think this is a good idea—”

The cicadas buzzed and screamed outside, the chilling breeze of night wrapping around them just as Hikaru’s essence coiled around their bodies.

“Ya’ like it, right? I wanna— touch ya’ the way you enjoy more”, Yoshiki nearly growled between each kiss, delirious, capturing Hikaru’s tongue and sucking at it with unnatural hungriness while he urgently unbuttoned his white shirt. It made Hikaru whine and seize his lower lip, biting hard at it to the point of breaking skin right when Yoshiki’s index and middle fingers breached the infinite, cold space beneath. They shuddered in unison, gasps silenced by their mouths.

Whether the raging fire below burned even hotter from the thick and sweet metallic taste in his tongue, or from the way Hikaru’s insides immediately reached forward to capture the entirety of his right forearm, Yoshiki couldn’t know or care. He swallowed Hikaru’s shaky voice with his lips, pushing his hand further in and exploring the strange sensation — it felt like passing through thick fibers of muscle, not unlike playing the strings of a fleshy harp. Sometimes, whenever his pads traced a hardened swirl of flesh, he could feel Hikaru going taut against his body and a warped noise leave his throat as he, perhaps unknowingly, ground his hips down to where they lay against Yoshiki’s own sensitivity, shooting a matching spark.

Breathless, Yoshiki pulled away from Hikaru’s flushed lips and exhaled against them, sighing with a tremble when Hikaru decided to grind down again against the already wet area of his crotch, heart slamming loudly the moment hands wrapped themselves snuggly around his neck, white thumbs holding his jaw up. Feverish and mortified, he saw his own eyes snapping open once a particular angle hit him just right, his voice cracking under the weight of Hikaru’s holy and broken chuckle. 

“I do like it”, Hikaru whispered, gulping down. “I like ya’ very much, ya’ know?”

There, staring down at him once more, he was convinced that lay the face of damnation. Hikaru’s skin was flushed bright like a bouquet of roses, from his temples all the way to his chest; pupils blown wide and red and threatening further distortion the more that Yoshiki’s fingers moved inside of him, red-kissed mouth slightly open and awaiting with a curved smile as an iridescent black wave cradled down his left cheek. Yoshiki felt dazed, burning, wanting and wanting and wanting— 

Yoshiki’s hand felt a pulsing, fiber-like something as it went upwards inside his opening, now reaching where his sternum would be — when he caressed it, his eyes zoomed into the way Hikaru’s eyelids fluttered close, lashes wet with tears, and the sentiment that lanced through him was like no other: this couldn’t be disgusting, right? Not when it made him look so pretty and open and his; this entity, this monster— this Deity above him, disfiguring himself as he delved deeper into sensations only Yoshiki could bring. 

“Is— is this okay?”, Yoshiki asked in a frenzy, curling his hand around the flesh inside, gasping deeply as he felt the other’s body shiver uncontrollably. “Hikaru—”

“Yes”, A deep voice sparked from somewhere inside his head, alarming and alluring. Tendrils hugged his arms and tugged at his mouth, gently intruding into the willing crevice and fondling the softness inside. Yoshiki tried not to gag at the sensation and relaxed his throat, breathing through his nose. “Anything ya’ do to me is so— wonderful—”, Hikaru sighed, opening his unmatching grey eyes and swinging forward to press their foreheads together, lips as close as they could be, colorful ripples shared between. Yoshiki groaned as one of his hands went to the slender waist above, clutching the fat by his hips until his nails left moon-shaped marks on it. “I love you, Yoshiki— I love ya’ so frigging much—”

With a sob torn open from his bleeding heart, Yoshiki pulled hard against the fleshy string as he locked their lips together, chasing away the tendrils — a kiss so chaste, feather-like and sweet and salty from tears, betraying all the thoughts he felt unable to profess but could only hope to transmit. With hands claiming and scratching Yoshiki’s back, a loud, deep whine of his name left Hikaru’s mouth, partly silenced by their proximity before his body stilled suddenly, black mass bursting and turning into a starry sky of a myriad of colors as the rest of the world faded into nothingness.

How beautiful, Yoshiki thought with a shuddering smile, his own moan of the syllables of Hikaru constricted and shy, pants way too tight and wet for comfort, hellfire coming and coming and coming as he stared up at the haunting image of the object of his longing, torn between humanity and otherworldly immensity. How ethereal. The most beautiful thing he ever had the luck to see and it was right there, looking at him as if he had just given him the entire world.

Hikaru’s body regained function the instant it heard Yoshiki’s soft sobs increasing in volume, tendrils violently retreating into his left iris. Apprehensive hands snaked towards his cheeks, cradling the taller one’s red face as he scrunched his eyes, sobbing openly. 

“Yoshiki”, Hikaru called, snuggling himself impossibly closer once he felt trembling fingers leaving the opening in his chest and moving towards his back for a hug; he exhaled with certain relief when Yoshiki pressed his face against his sternum, a deep, saddened awareness coursing through his veins.

“I’m sorry—”

“Shhh”, Hikaru said as they cuddled, curling his body all around him as protectively as he could manage. Yoshiki cried loudly once he whispered, splattering the crown of his black hair with kisses, “It’s okay… Ya’ did nothing wrong, Yoshiki…”

It was too much, and yet not enough. Tears fell freely like erupting waterfalls and, for once, he was reminded of whenever he used to cry as a child— He wanted this, wanted him so much, and yet— Looking at Hikaru’s content expression, his halved body trusting him enough to open itself like that despite everything— 

It felt daunting. The spilled warmth in his boxers, how he came untouched and still dared to want more right here in the open, how he wished he could consume and map all of Hikaru’s skin, filling it with dark blemishes to match the one on his right arm — he could already feel the eyes of everyone in this village on his back, could already feel the isolation. They’ll know I’m disgusting. How I’m choosing him over them, over his memory— they’ll know that I’m— 

“I’m tainting you”, he wept, sniffling against the cold naked skin, yet unable to keep himself from pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the place where his xiphoid process would be. “I love you and I’m tainting you—”

Ah. There it was. 

He loved Hikaru. He loves Hikaru. Loved how he made him feel so safe and wanted, like nothing else mattered but their connection. Was it truly so absurd to wish to run away with him, go somewhere where they could find a home together?

Soft hands pulled his chin up and, before he could blink, even softer, blood-tinted lips touched his own. He gasped in surprise, tears stunned into silence. When he blinked them away, a vividly blushing expression stared at him, decorated with a smile so bright it lit up the whole ambience. 

“You said ya’ loved me”, Hikaru sighed with what could only be described as veneration, causing his heart to further break into tiny pieces like a porcelain vase, only to be glued together by the kindness of this monster’s arms, who kept cradling him with such tenderness it barely registered. “I feel so… full, Yoshiki!”, he laughed with glee, leaning in to lick at the insulting tears framing widening eyes. “I feel as though I took a piece of ya! How can it be…? Here, let me taste ya again, yeah?”

The absurdity of the situation dazed Yoshiki, who felt the start of a snicker make its way through the dying sobs. “W-What are ya— Hikaru!”, he stuttered, pulling his hands up to try and keep the tongue away while his bubbling laugh further detonated.

When Hikaru kept licking, kissing and gently biting his face, giggling through it all, Yoshiki pushed him to the ground, watery droplets forgotten amidst the contagious screeching laughter. Hikaru ensnared his hips with his strong legs, pulling Yoshiki towards him as he tried to put his mouth on whatever skin he could find like a rabid animal.

Perhaps Yoshiki would not notice the reason why the other would do such a thing — although, chances were high he would, with how transparent Hikaru always was. The black ripples of their mixing, wrapped around the length of his forearm, buzzed pleasantly whenever they touched, whenever Hikaru’s beautifully rough laugh singed a little bit too close to his ears, causing a mass of affection to wash over him. He was distracting him, grounding him, and the unexpected empathy left him floorless for but a moment.

They wrestled for a bit and, ultimately, Yoshiki managed to pin both of Hikaru’s hands atop his head, gasping heavily from the exertion. They were flushed, faces content and relaxed as sweat drops rolled down their bodies, and— abruptly, nothing else mattered in this moment. Yoshiki stared dumbfounded at Hikaru, heart thumping loudly in his chest, when a smile slowly carved itself onto his plump lips once Hikaru craned his neck up to nuzzle against his chin.

“Yoshiki”, Hikaru whispered, wiggling his hands until release so that he could circle them around the other’s neck, pulling him down to rest on top of his body. His voice was soft and tired, but carried such finality that it made Yoshiki shiver.

“Hm?”, he went with ease, laying his head against Hikaru’s chest as he felt arms coming around him. Fingers pushed his sweaty bangs away from his eyes, swiping at them to dry any leftover tears. His heart pleasantly tugged at the intimacy of it all, despite how awkward it felt — like he didn’t deserve to be hugged so lovingly and willingly.

“If tainting me makes me feel like this,” Hikaru hummed, pursing his lips in thought. Yoshiki stared at him, taking in all of his little wrinkles and expressions — so unique to the creature itself, so strikingly different from the owner of that body. “then I don’t think it’s a bad thing, ya’ know…”

Changing yourself for someone else, being transformed to the point of unrecognition by trivial things such as love — those and other human-like things — Hikaru didn’t need to know about them.

Yoshiki’s whole face scorched, so heavily he feared he might set Hikaru’s palms ablaze. “What do ya’ mean?”

“Whenever I eat a soul”, The boy tried, hugging Yoshiki tightly as he decided to plaster his moles with kisses if only to be able to hear his creamy chuckles. Hikaru preened with joy before continuing, “I feel full. I guess it’s kinda like when yer super hungry and eat something good, yeah? I don’t feel hunger, especifically, but I still eat ‘cause it’s nice, and—”

Silence followed as Hikaru tried to put heavy thoughts into words. And Yoshiki, ever so patient, stood still, one of his hands descending to hold Hikaru’s thigh closely to his waist, tattooing small circles into the skin over the hipbone. 

“I think I might’ve— licked your soul, maybe? Grazed at it? When we, uhm, joined”, Hikaru reddened, shivering slightly from Yoshiki’s ministrations; but when he stared back, he looked apologetic. “‘m sorry… I didn’t eat it, though! I was just—”

“Overwhelmed”, Yoshiki finished for him, gently smiling. When the other one nodded bashfully, he laughed — open and rough, sheepish when he saw Hikaru’s expression softening. “It’s fine. I felt… good. Real good, actually.”

“Really?”, Hikaru brightened, sitting up slightly. With a cocked eyebrow, his curious fingers opted to explore underneath Yoshiki’s collar, pulling it down until he could see his clavicles — and, right there in the hollow of it, he nosed at the skin decorated by a lonely mole, caressing it with his mouth in reverence and bringing forward a tremble. Noticing Yoshiki’s pliable manner, Hikaru snaked his other hand down his body, going under his shirt and caressing his lower back before settling over his hip, just barely grazing the naked skin underneath the pants’ waistband. The other stilled with a gasp. “But I didn’t touch you there, Yoshiki… The human way— And ya’ made me feel amazing! That’s unfair, ain’t it?”

“No, I—”, Yoshiki looked to the side, mortified, hand going down to clasp over Hikaru’s lithe fingers. If he already climaxed just from the sight of his open pleasure alone, he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he actually let him touch his bare skin; no, no, it would be too much, he would definitely die. His face set ablaze, red all over like Hikaru’s pupils, mouth uncertain and nervous, “I don’t need to—”

“Are ya’ afraid of me touching you?”, The smaller boy mumbled, pitch calm but unmistakable in the hurt coloring it before a curt chuckle attempted coverage. “Ah, well, it makes sense—”

“That’s not it!”, Yoshiki exclaimed with urgency, shaking his head. He gulped and lifted himself gently, sitting with his knees up on the wooden floorboard and hiding his face. He could sense Hikaru sitting fully and crawling to him, a calming exhale brushing past his lips once familiar hands rested atop his crossed arms. 

Hikaru stayed silent, simply making his presence known. 

“I already came,” he muttered quickly and lowly, risking opening a single eye to gauge the other’s reaction. When he expressed nothing but a tilt of his head, he started feeling a little silly.

“Oh! Is that… bad? I thought that was the purpose of sex?”, Hikaru probed, sudden discerning hitting him with the force of a thunderstorm. Yoshiki didn’t try correcting him, flustered as he was. “Wait, but I didn’t even—”

“Yeah”, Yoshiki snickered in horror, heavy sickness in his stomach. Coming untouched from seeing an Eldritch horror grinding on my lap. “I guess I’m a freak.”

To his surprise, however, Hikaru's face went through a myriad of phases, very nearly glitching itself — initial shock dissolved into bashfulness, which mutated into— Joy? Elation? From the way his pupils grew twice in size and pink blossomed, one could even argue it was the face of someone utterly lost in lust; except it was Hikaru, so that couldn't possibly be the reason. If anything, Yoshiki pondered, he felt like a dragonfly about to be devoured by a chameleon.

“So… Ya’ like me so much that you came just by looking at me?”

Oh God, he was about to be insufferable about it, wasn't he?

“Wh— Well, I— Ugh!"

“Heheh! Yer so adorable, Yoshiki!”

“Shut up!”, he stuttered, screeching in mortification when Hikaru’s slender arms grabbed at him from behind in a crushing embrace, a bit too overwhelmed to be able to calmly handle his hands so close to his hips. His skin burned everywhere the other caressed, tingling in sensitivity. “Ugh, Hikaru—”

“Yer sooo cute! I could just eat ya’ up”, Hikaru giggled teasingly, nosing at one of the watermelon seeds by the side of his neck and laying a soft kiss over it. His red eyes shone even brighter over the sound of Yoshiki’s rushed breath turning airy, an infectious smile spreading over him. He didn’t miss the way that it invaded Yoshiki’s face as well, despite him trying to appear irritated. “Can I, Yoshiki? Pretty please? Can I eat ya’?”

“If ya’ eat me, we won’t do this again, dumbass.”, The older boy rolled his eyes, turning his hands to intertwine their fingers over his stomach. He could practically feel Hikaru perking up at the idea, unable to resist a deep laugh as he leaned against his body. Yoshiki was rewarded with more pecks over his shoulder, closing his eyes in unexpected comfort once long, pale legs encircled over his waist to fully entrapt him. Sighing contentedly, Yoshiki reached up a hand to lazily pet Hikaru’s white crown, which rested on the crook of his neck as the other leisurely nibbled at the skin there, unhurting and gentle. He swore he heard purring.

Yoshiki could tell Hikaru was mostly exploring this newfound ability of human connection, latching onto his skin at any given opportunity. Even though Hikaru didn’t feel specific human things as lust or desire, he always seemed to greatly enjoy being touched by him, and getting to touch Yoshiki in return — knowing him, he probably found it fun, which he correctly concluded after seeing a small, iridescent tendril currently hugging his arm. 

“What are ya’ doing?”, Yoshiki asked with genuine curiosity, simply watching the black swirl move around. He felt Hikaru still behind him and suddenly his chin leaned over his shoulder, cheeks red.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s—”, Hikaru flushed, tightening his hold on their intertwined fingers. “It just… comes out, I guess…” a sigh followed, “Ya’ make me feel so happy that I forget myself, sorry… I’ll bring it back—”

Oh dear God from above. 

Many thoughts spiraled through Yoshiki’s head, and none of them were exactly holy or pure. Yoshiki exhaled and nodded, being careful to mold his mouth into an affable smile as he pulled at Hikaru’s hand to get his attention. “It’s okay, I don’t mind it. It’s—” He licked at his lips, suddenly self-conscious despite all that transpired. “It’s yer real form, right? So it’s fine. I like all of you.”

Hikaru looked at him funny, almost as if he wasn’t sure how he should be feeling after such an admission, before ultimately falling on sparkling irises and a smile so big it wrinkled his eyes. “Yeah?”

Yoshiki matched his expression, albeit timidly, and circled his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “Yeah”

As if he were a blushing maiden, Hikaru giggled sweetly and hugged him so tightly they fell back down to the floor on a colorful mix of laughter and limbs. Sending all care to Hell with a heavenly surge of courage, Yoshiki turned around and grabbed his warm cheeks before pressing a wet kiss to his lips, smiling against them once he felt Hikaru practically swoon. 

“I like all of ya’ too, Yoshiki”, Hikaru whispered, pushing his bangs back to lay a kiss against his forehead. It took all of his diminished energy not to weep; so, instead, he silenced him another way.

After a few minutes of lazy pecks and kisses as he rested on top of Hikaru, it took the accidental brush of the smaller one’s knee against his loins for him to remember quite an important detail.

“Hikaru, wait, we should—” Yoshiki mumbled, listlessly grabbing the boy’s jaw with a bit more force, though it only seemed to spur him on from the way he purred at his lips. “Hng, Hikaru—”

“Not listenin’”, came the sung answer, as Hikaru pulled impatiently at the hem of his blue shirt. “Hey, dontcha’ wanna take his off?”

“God, yes— I mean— Wait!”, Yoshiki pushed his face away, panting as he stared down at the toothy grin. He was getting flustered again and that wouldn’t do, not out in the open as they were; and, well, one of them had to be at least a little rational about it — so, pulling self-control from the Heavens and below, Yoshiki moved his hips away from the menacing legs. “W-We should go upstairs.”

“Ah”, Hikaru breathed out, inquisitive eyes descending his body until they locked in on the wet, elevated patch on Yoshiki’s crotch. His smile grew, as one was wont to do when at last figuring out a solution. “I see! I forgot bodies did that!”

Yoshiki wanted to bury himself. 

“Yeah, well—”, he stuttered, getting up as if lightning struck him. “I gotta change, so…” Yoshiki paused for a moment as he took in all of Hikaru’s figure — linen shirt wrinkled and open, belt half undone and his body’s entrance laying just a sliver wide, face filled with blooming dahlias matching kiss-swollen lips. His multicolored eyes stared up at him as if he held the universe in his hands, dangerous and alluring swirls in reach.

“Like what ya’ see?”, Hikaru taunted, cocking his head. Yoshiki snickered, embarrassment momentarily forgotten, before reaching down to pull him up by his hand — and, when the white-haired youth stood up, he got close enough to bite his cheek.

“Yeah”, Yoshiki replied in amusement against his warmth, grinning when Hikaru’s face fell in shock. “So show me to yer bathroom.”

Later that night, as Yoshiki texted his mom to tell her he would sleep over at the Indou household, Hikaru’s ever-analytical fingers played with the dark freckles on his left arm, ghosting over them as a soft hum breached his lips. 

“Ya’ have so many moles, Yoshiki”, Hikaru whispered in the middle of the darkness, curled up against the taller one’s body. Yoshiki blocked his cellphone and put it away before turning towards him, an uneasy expression on his face that soon turned bashful after the next words, “I like ‘em. They look like watermelon seeds.”

Yoshiki flushed, curling an arm around Hikaru’s back to let him repose comfortably against his shoulders. It was so new, this intimacy, and it scared him endlessly. But— “Ya’ give the strangest compliments”, he complained, despite the affection shown through the light caresses he laid on Hikaru’s naked back. 

“Maybe,” Hikaru chuckled, vermillion glow all the more prevalent in the dead of the night. “I know ya’ don’t really dig them, so I figured I’ll like them for you. Not like it’s a chore anyway. I like everythin’ about ya.”

If Yoshiki’s heart grew even larger than it already had, he was sure it would bleed and burst open. Overpowered with the urge to cry, he hid his face on the top of Hikaru’s head, smelling his citric shampoo scent. Hikaru appeared to — despite liking it — sense that something was off, so he moved his fingers down towards Yoshiki’s hand to grasp it.

“Are ya’ okay?”

“Hm.” 

A pause, as Hikaru’s voice shift turned low and soft. He intertwined their legs together.

“Want me to let you go?”

Yoshiki held his hand tightly over his beating heart, snugging their bodies closer.

“Never.”

Hikaru’s breath hitched at the response. Yoshiki felt the slight wobbling of the smaller body and hugged him steadily, encircling and covering him completely with his scent.

“Is that— a wish?”, a sniffle. 

“It’s my wish to you”, Yoshiki mumbled, feeling a light burning sensation on his blemished arm, their promise locked and carried by the summer wind.

Images flew through his sleep-dazed mind; of them, not many years from now, eating baked sweets at a pink bakery right in the center of Tokyo. Hikaru looked taller, hair wavy and pierced ears and red eyes, mouth stained with chocolate as he tried stuffing a swiss roll in Yoshiki’s mouth — who, in turn, even taller than his companion, opened his dark-painted lips without resistance despite his dislike of the overbearing sweetness, licking Hikaru’s finger pads as he put his hand away for the simple pleasure of hearing him giggle; light, airy and refreshing, like watermelon seeds on a summer day.