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Hikaru’s pupils gleam red in the low light like he’s been caught mid-photograph.
Yoshiki remembers a presentation from the photography club about this. The light of a camera flash reflects off the blood vessels in the eyes, which shows as red in the picture. To prevent it, you have to make sure there’s adequate lighting already in the room.
Except the flash coupled with quick capturing of the image is what reveals the phenomenon; human eyes shouldn’t be able to detect it. He tilts his head, but even as the angle changes, they still gleam: cutting through the darkness, not through producing light of their own but by simply being unaffected by the lack of it. Had Yoshiki’s vision been damaged at some point?
Before he can ponder that possibility, his staring is interrupted by a vulpine grin.
“Gettin’ lost in my eyes?” Hikaru teases. They’re stretched out on Yoshiki’s bed together, Yoshiki at one end and Hikaru at the other. His belly and cheek are pressed against the mattress, and normally, that position would be enough to make Yoshiki’s gaze follow the lithe lines of his body, daringly allowing it to linger in a few spots it shouldn’t so he’s forced to turn away completely to avoid being caught, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Hikaru’s. Not even the shift of his hips is enough. It’s tempting though.
Recognizing that Yoshiki isn’t going to look away, Hikaru must assume this is a game because his eyes widen dramatically like Hikaru used to when he was trying to make Yoshiki laugh during a staring contest. It doesn’t have the intended effect; instead, it only allows Yoshiki a clearer look. His irises, pale gray like the mountains viewed on a misty morning, haven’t changed at all. No, it’s the red that stands out. Loud, impossible to miss, that same misty morning and the sun is rising above the mountains but not the clouds, obscured into an ominous red circle as it crawls over the horizon.
He blinks, remembering suddenly that Hikaru had asked a question. “Somethin’ like that. It’s just… they look different.”
Hikaru’s playfulness ebbs away as he rubs his eye testingly. “I ain’t upset so I dunno why they would be... What exactly are ya seeing?”
“Your pupils are red.”
“Oh? Ain’t that strange?” Hikaru props up his face with a hand. If he’s hiding something, his tone doesn’t betray him. “Well, y’know what they say, ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’.”
Yoshiki doesn’t think it’s a soul he’s seeing, more like the lack of one. With nothing to abstract it, he can see through the hollow opening and at the blood and muscle that compose Hikaru’s body.
“So…?”
“So what?”
Hikaru bats his lashes. “Are my eyes pretty?”
He chuckles. “Naw… they’re kinda freaky.” Whether it’s the novelty or something akin to the hypnotizing effect of his insides, they ensnare his attention entirely. Hikaru’s didn’t look like that, and he’s not sure which he prefers. There’s an uncanniness to the inhuman color, and yet—
He startles. He was staring again.
Hikaru scoffs with mock offense. “See, that’s why you’ll never get a girlfriend. You were supposed to lie.”
“Oh- lie,” he drags out the word like he’s never heard it before, as if he doesn’t lie every day of his life. His lips twitch up slyly. “Lemme try again. Why yes, Hikaru, your eyes are pretty. In fact, you’re a beaut from the tips of yer toes to that rat’s nest atop yer head.”
“You ass!” Hikaru pounces on him to wrestle him into the mattress. The springs squeal beneath their writhing bodies as Yoshiki boxes back against the pinning hands. Half-flattened, Yoshiki’s knees do most of the work of keeping Hikaru away until Hikaru wrenches them apart to slip through and slide atop him. An accidental elbow to his ribs makes him grunt. “I’ll have ya know I style my hair every day,” growls Hikaru playfully, his grinning face much too close for comfort.
Yoshiki wraps his legs around Hikaru’s torso to keep him in place for when he taunts, “With what? A wagon wheel?” Hikaru tries to break free, and Yoshiki holds tighter, shoving his fingers into Hikaru’s hair and ruffling it until the locks stick out at every angle like dandelion fuzz.
“Urgh, no—! How do you like it?!” Hikaru ruffles Yoshiki’s hair as well. It falls right back into place once Hikaru pulls away, but Hikaru crows victoriously nonetheless.
By now, Yoshiki would usually tap. They’re pressed so close; it’d only take one rogue touch for questions (and something else) to spring up, but blood rushes warm and quick under his skin and pushes him to keep going. Yoshiki rolls them over and admires how Hikaru looks under him for a few moments. The glisten of sweat on his forehead, the tousled hair that’s settled into a bedhead, and the flush snaking up from his neck all perfectly complement the flaming-dawn of his eyes.
He can’t stare for long though as a hand grabs at his face, dragging back into their impromptu wrestling match. He fights off the hand easily and drops his full body weight onto Hikaru in retaliation. He chuckles at the soft umph that’s pulled from Hikaru’s chest.
“Did I finally beat you?” He teases only a few centimeters from his ear.
“No way,” Hikaru grits out. “I’m lyin’ in wait, conservin’ my energy like a uh… um… a thing that conserves energy…” he finishes lamely but quickly recovers, “You let yer guard down fer just a second and wham—!” Hikaru tries to surge up. Yoshiki keeps him down with two hands on his shoulders until the struggling ends. Hikaru falls back with a frown. “Well, it’d’ve been like that, but I woulda pinned ya and you’d been all surprised…”
“Oh I’m sure I woulda.” His cheeks ache from the width of his smile. He lays flat on Hikaru. The scent of shampoo mixed with what he can only call Hikaru’s natural scent makes his mind feel floaty.
“Hey now- don’t you be fallin’ asleep on me. You’re heavy.”
“If you want me off, you gotta make me.”
“You think I can’t get you off?”
“Phrasin’.”
“I meant what I said.”
He laughs, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. It’s times like these where he remembers why he’s doing all this in the first place, why he has to stay with Hikaru. These little breaks of sunshine after long stretches of rain warm him to his bones, tearing through skin and muscle to touch the nostalgia curled deep within him. It may make him a horrible person, but he enjoys spending time with Hikaru, and he can’t help his feelings any more than he can help anything else he does.
”I’m serious, Yoshiki. My leg is startin’ to tingle.”
“Shhh, pillows don’t talk…”
He closes his eyes as Hikaru whines beneath him. Eventually he’ll get thrown off, but until then, he’ll enjoy the press of their bodies, and if he can catch up on some lost sleep while he’s at it, that’ll be all the better.