Chapter Text
Yoshiki visibly recoiled as a large glob of tears fell down Hikaru's chin and burst like a bubble once it hit the table beneath. He blinked; once, twice, thinking the room is dark— the only source of light is coming from the movie projector behind them— so his eyes must be playing tricks on him, or his bangs really are too long and are making him see things now, but nothing changed when things came into focus again. Hikaru still cried, large drops gathering and clumping up his eyelashes before falling down in the same spot and forming a salty puddle.
Yoshiki brought his hands up to his mouth, clutching his face in fear of making a sound.
None of this made sense. None of it has been making any sense since Hikaru came back from the mountain.
He doesn't know what happened there, but he is absolutely sure he saw him. Saw him lying there, in the damp grass, cold and lifeless. He grabbed his face, muttered and whimpered at him to come back and then vomited in the same damned grass he lay in. He stared at Hikaru's bloody head until the sight imprinted itself on the back of his eyelids, lay next to him until he began to shiver from the cold.
When his throat opened up again, his skin numb and hurting, but still warmer than the body he held, he made his way home.
He couldn't bring himself to wash his face or brush his teeth, much less do anything else. His parents fought in the kitchen because of it. The kitchen, where everything uttered bounces off tiles and sinks into the walls of the house to slowly gnaw at the brick and wear it down.
They came up with a solution to knock on his door in intervals; his mom in the morning before work, his dad during lunch, then he also went to work which left Yoshiki with hours of time alone, before they both checked in on him, one before and one after dinner. They didn't do more than that.
The countless hours alone or with them home didn't matter. It made no difference as he never left his bed in those days, instead alternating between staring at the ceiling, the walls in his room and into nothing at all when he put his face on the pillow and breathed into it, hoping to suffocate and finally stop the incessant throbbing of his head. He lost count of the hours, then days as his stomach turned and his eyes produced liquid that he wasn't even sure were tears anymore— his throat stopped burning every time they made their way down his face— but maybe there simply wasn't anything left to burn.
Then, the new semester began.
Then, Hikaru came back.
Then, the horrible throbbing of his head returned at full force, and he couldn't make sense of anything. Not the way Hikaru(?) grinned at him, not the way anything he said wasn't him at all anymore and certainly not the way his body didn't radiate any of the warmth that it once did.
Hikaru ran hot and Yoshiki ran cold. That was always the way it was, and now it simply wasn't. Hikaru's body was as cold as he had found it in the grass.
Hikaru bumped their shoulders, touched Yoshiki's sweaty fingers, curled his arm around Yoshiki's shoulders or slapped his whole palm on Yoshiki's back; and a cold passed through Yoshiki's skin so sharp that he shuddered, goosebumps raking his skin from neck to toe each time it happened.
It has been a month since he came back.
Yesterday he asked Yoshiki for the manga he's read numerous times already— and now he's crying, eyes glued to the projector screen in the very front of the classroom, showing a movie they had seen more than five times now.
Yoshiki lets his own face go and blinks a couple of times before reaching out to tug on Hikaru's sleeve. He feels like throwing up.
"Hey. What's wrong?" His mouth wobbles as he speaks. Hikaru's big, watery eyes flit down to look for a quarter of a second before he's laughing quietly and using the collar of his uniform to wipe at his face.
"Nothin’, the movie's just... It's really sad, y’know..."
Hikaru's eyes go back and forth between the screen and Yoshiki. He hiccups.
"We've seen it five times already, though."
"Yeah, but—"
"Quiet down, Indou-kun," the teacher shushes them both from behind and they turn away from each other.
Hikaru doesn't stop crying.
𖦹꩜๑
On their way home, Hikaru bumps shoulders with Yoshiki as they walk. Yoshiki tries not to shiver.
“Man, I really like that manga ya give me. I can't wait fer the new number," Hikaru says. His breath comes out of his mouth in puffs as he speaks, even though his body is cold.
"I'll bring it tomorrow."
"Thanks, Yoshiki. I really like the main character. He feels a lot like ya, right? He's cool like that. Though he's kinda shining and all that, so he looks nothing like ya..." Hikaru continues on. He talks as if he's reading it for the first time. A hook pulls at Yoshiki's insides— it gets caught on his liver, ripping the flesh apart with every step further he takes and ignores the questions that weigh the hook itself.
"I still can't believe ya got eleven copies of volume one, ya know? It's insane to think about!"
But see?
The hook grows lighter and Yoshiki can confidently step further and further, without worrying about the tear in his liver. It has been a long time since Hikaru saw the eleven copies piled on his shelf. Only Hikaru from before the mountain saw them, and only he knows about them, so—
"Yoshiki?" Hikaru pulls him out.
"Yeah?"
"Yer not angry at me, are ya?" Hikaru's small eyebrows pinch together. He looks at Yoshiki sincerely, the edge of his mouth pulled down.
"I'm not, Hikaru."
"Oh, good. I was worried ya were. Yer my favorite, ya know that?" He pauses for a moment, his smile slanted and teeth crooked. Yoshiki's always liked the way it made him feel. "I don't know what I'd do if ya were." He continues quieter than before, eyes drifting from Yoshiki's face to the pavement below. A red glint flickers on his pupils as he does.
It must be the setting sun.
"I'm not," Yoshiki repeats and stops walking when they approach his house.
Hikaru nods. "I'm glad."
He smiles, softer now. No teeth in sight. His eyebrows form a small crease between them, like he feels sorry for Yoshiki. Like this hurts him.
He wants to know why.
But he'd rather Hikaru stays this time. So he keeps quiet and nods.
"See ya, Hikaru."
"Bye-bye, Yoshiki."
They wave each other goodbye and within a moment, Yoshiki is back in his damp room, alone.
The walls soaked up his parents yelling, the punctual knocks on his door, and his wet whimpers muffled by the worn-down pillow that lost shape long ago and now sits in a pathetic lump against the headboard. He puts his bag down, takes his jacket off and shivers because of the cold. No one is home yet, and the sounds echo in the room, or maybe in his head, but he heads for the door as fast as he entered.
When he pulls the door to his room open though, a pair of feet awaits in front.
He stumbles back, taking in the whole sight and the whole sight is Hikaru, but not the Hikaru he bid goodbye two minutes ago, no— the Hikaru he saw on the mountain with blood smeared across his forehead, dirt in his hair and on his face, eyes wide, soaked in blood and sorry— as if he did not expect Yoshiki to come out of his room any time soon.
His hand is raised in a gesture that appears to be preparing for a knock and Yoshiki sucks in a startled breath, lungs suddenly void of air—
"Did it leave?" Hikaru asks, but Yoshiki's heart is in his feet and it's pounding, screaming at him to run, but he can't even bring himself to look away from the clotted blood on Hikaru's face.
"Huh?"
He thinks the back of his eyes might be pounding too, as he takes in the ragged appearance before him, but ultimately trails back to his forehead. Wishing to reach out and inspect the extent of the wound, he curses at himself inwardly and finally looks away.
"That thing, Yoshiki! Did it leave?"
"What thing?"
"The— The other me! He was just in front!"
"Oh." Yoshiki feels like vomiting again. His head is so heavy and his legs so weak. He grips the doorframe. "Yeah, he uh, he left. Just now."
"Okay. Can I come in?"
"Uh– yeah. Yeah." Yoshiki steps aside to let him in.
The fact that his sheets haven't been changed since he came back from the mountain nags quietly at the back of his head. The air still feels stale and the walls creak as if they could tumble down any moment now, but Yoshiki still nods and watches Hikaru walk in.
Hikaru doesn't sit on the bed, even though his ragged appearance couldn't make it dirtier than it already is. Still, it isn't like he knows it's dirty, so Yoshiki motions awkwardly for him to sit down. Maybe this will get him to finally change those sheets.
His fingers tremble, so he clutches them and looks up at the collar of Hikaru's shirt.
"Uh, this must be even weirder for ya. Sorry. It's jus'... I saw it. Him. In my house. When I came back, so I didn't know where to go. Only ya came to mind, Yoshiki, so I'm... here." Hikaru goes on, explaining, but not really explaining anything.
Yoshiki's palms grow sweaty, even though the house is freezing. He didn't turn the heating on yet.
And he distinctly remembers the cold, lifeless Hikaru on the mountain.
"Ya died."
"Huh?"
"I saw ya. I— Ya were dead, Hikaru. Ya died. None of this makes sense— What do ya mean ya came back??? Ya weren't breathin', ya were cold— dead, Hikaru, dead!" His vision is blurry no matter how many times he blinks, so he keeps his head down. His nails dig into the fingers he's clutching. It doesn't stop them from shaking. "And now yer here, sayin' there's another one of ya in yer house, and yer head is still the mess I saw a month ago and— Hikaru, I—"
Small, pearly tears drop from his eyelashes and dot his pants, but before he even has the chance to realise he's crying, one lanky arm envelops his shoulders and pulls him closer to Hikaru.
Yoshiki sucks in a breath through his teeth and looks up through his bangs, but Hikaru is looking the other way, over his shoulder, as he holds him. The arm around his shoulders is the only point of contact between them, even though Hikaru pulled him close. There is a small gap between their thighs and Yoshiki releases his trembling hand to fist it in the hem of Hikaru's shirt. When Hikaru whirls around at the pull of his clothes, Yoshiki turns his head away.
Hikaru clears his throat.
"Sorry. I knew ya musta been confused, yet I acted like alla this was nothin' out of the ordinary." His hand grips Yoshiki's shoulder and starts rubbing up and down roughly. "I don't know what happened, Yoshiki. I shoulda died, I know, and yet I woke up hungry, and dirty, and wet, and freezin', and when I got home and saw another me there I jus’— I didn't know what to do. Ya were the only one I could trust, Yoshiki." His voice is quieter and his grip lighter. The air in the room feels suffocating.
"Ah..." Yoshiki lets out. The back of his neck heats up. He rubs his palm on his thigh and tries to gather himself. Clumsily, he continues, "Yeah. Yeah, uh. Yer still cold, yeah? Let me. Let me turn the heating on, Hikaru."
It seems to take a moment for Hikaru to comprehend the words, but he flings himself off and rips his shirt from Yoshiki's hold as soon as he does. He laughs awkwardly and nods to himself. Yoshiki glances at him before he stands up and walks to the door. He hears a soft thump on it, like the endless knocking of his parents, but when he opens the door no one is on the other side.
He goes to the living room fairly quickly, although his feet drag on the floor the way his mom always chastised him for. When he returns, Hikaru is rubbing the dent in his bedframe that they made as kids. Hikaru used to tickle him to death then, but Yoshiki's leg kicked out once and tipped his lamp over so it fell and left a permanent mark on the wood.
His breath stutters when Hikaru's dirty nail catches on the dent.
"Is yer mom still mad over this?" Hikaru looks up with a grin. He doesn't look apologetic at all.
"No," Yoshiki mumbles and closes the door. His heart squeezes. This sounds like his Hikaru.
"Good." The smile on his face is audible even with his back turned.
"The other, uh, Hikaru is going to school too. As ya."
Hikaru's eyebrows pinch together. They have this in common, Yoshiki thinks.
"He acts normal. Says weird things sometimes. Cries during that movie they're playing for the tenth time during study hall. He's readin' yer manga... Why’d ya even go to the mountain?" Yoshiki tries to form a sort of prelude as he talks about the other Hikaru, but the question slips out without his meaning to. It's obvious, it's reserved, and Yoshiki looks down when Hikaru winces.
“Uh… Our village has this sorta curse, y’know, and my family is responsible for it. So we go up there every generation to apologise.”
“Apologise?”
Hikaru’s mouth twists downward.
“Yeah, ‘cause the whole village suffered fer somethin’ my ancestors did. That's why it's my family that's gotta—do a sort of ritual. It's —” He laughs awkwardly. He briefly looks up with his bloody eye and Yoshiki can't help the way his eyes flit down to his collar, before Hikaru turns sideways. Clearing his throat, he speaks up with a new determination, “It's actually a real long story, Yoshiki. Could we do this later?”
He's running away from this, Yoshiki thinks, just like he does with everything. The hue of his sclera reminds him of the way the other Hikaru's eye glints in the sun. Would that Hikaru run from Yoshiki too?
A sharp sound stabs through their quiet, damp bubble, and they both jump when the front door opens. Yoshiki looks around frantically, meeting Hikaru's wide eyes for a brief second before he swivels on his feet and opens the door to his wardrobe.
"I'll uh. Hide there," Hikaru says on his own and steps inside in two long strides before they hear footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. Yoshiki closes the wardrobe door and sits on his bed, pretending to go through his bag.
A knock wreaks through the wood and his mom opens the door.
"Yoshiki, there's mud on the floor all the way to your room. How did you manage to make such a mess? It's cold in the house, too. Did you just get home?"
He looks up. He didn't notice anything when he went downstairs, but it's not like he actively tried to. Every inch of his skin already feels dirty. Maybe that's the reason why.
"Sorry, mom.”
His mom doesn't seem particularly angry, but the sharp knock makes him think otherwise. His ears twitch and head pounds as he takes in all the sounds in the room, which are none, save for three pairs of breathing mouths. Stale air flows back into the room through the open mouth of the door. It's suffocating.
"Alright. Be more careful next time. I'll get started on dinner," she says and turns. Yoshiki's heart leaps out of his chest when her eyes run over the room for a brief second, but she closes the door with no further comments of any kind.
He breathes out.
"Yoshiki?" Hikaru whispers from the wardrobe, reluctant to open the door on his own.
"Yeah, yeah." He walks over, opens the door and peers in.
"Sorry fer leavin' dirt all over," he says, face twisted in a frown. Yoshiki swallows down the wish to laugh. This is his Hikaru. Every worry throbbing in his head seems to subside for a moment. It's easier to breathe.
He looks down.
"Don't worry 'bout it." Yoshiki turns away and goes back to his bag. He fished out a snack while his mother climbed up the stairs, so he hands it to Hikaru. "Eat somethin'. Ya need to take a bath, and then I'll take some dinner up so ya can eat more."
"Yoshiki..." Hikaru's eyes twinkle while he grabs the milk bread from Yoshiki's hand. He rips the packaging open like a man starved and starts shoving the food in his mouth.
"We, uh... The bath. We'll have ta do it together. I mean, one right after the other. So my mom doesn't come in." Yoshiki says bluntly to get it over with.
A stuffy silence spreads throughout the room, before Hikaru giggles with his mouth full.
"Heheh, are ya shy?" He asks and doesn't wait for the answer. He drops down on the bed and continues eating and talking at the same time. "It's not like this is the first time. We've done it a buncha times as kids!"
Yoshiki hopes his bangs hide the blotchy redness on his face.
"Shut up."
Hikaru laughs loudly before slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Shit, I forgot. D'ya think she heard?"
Yoshiki stays quiet and listens. "I don't think so."
𖦹꩜๑
Yoshiki opens the door quietly and peers out of his room. He holds his palm out as a sign for Hikaru not to follow yet.
He slinks down the hall and checks the bathroom. Empty. He turns the faucet on, checks the temperature of the water and leaves it running, just to save some time. Sure that he can't be heard downstairs under the sound of the water running, he whisper-yells down the hall, "Hikaru!"
Hikaru pokes his head out the door and seeing that the coast is clear, he scurries down the hall and bumps into Yoshiki as he closes the door in a hurry.
He flings his thumb up. "We're good!"
Yoshiki smiles and huffs. He looks through drawers and pulls out towels.
"Go in first. Scrub all that dirt off," Yoshiki says when the bath is full.
"Ya got it, boss."
Yoshiki watches and tries not to watch at the same time as Hikaru rubs himself clean in the shower. When he steps in the bath and gets comfortable, he dunks his head into the water first.
His hair sticks to his forehead and makes it look longer than it really is.
"Ahhh. So warm, Yoshiki. I could stay in here forever." A drop of water trails down the tip of his nose, the perkiest part of his upper lip and disappears into his mouth. His eyelashes clump together and look thicker and darker under the yellow light.
Yoshiki is reminded of the other Hikaru and the way he cried with no care for his surroundings. A lump forms in his throat. That is the first time he's seen Hikaru cry in years.
He keeps his head down as he waits for Hikaru to finish up. He keeps his head down while he himself strips, gets in the bath and washes up. He only hopes his bangs can hide the blotchy embarrassment covering his face.
He keeps his head down when Hikaru hands him a towel to cover himself as soon as he gets out, too.
They repeat the process again; Yoshiki pokes his head out, shimmies down the hall, checks his room, whisper-yells for Hikaru to follow, and they're both back in his room, safe and sound, within seconds.
Yoshiki instructs Hikaru to hide in the wardrobe while he grabs a mop, cleans the house and has dinner with his family.
The floor is not as dirty as his mom made it out to be, but the dinner is worse. The living room is stuffy and uncomfortable, the heat too spread-out and all-consuming. Even if the food were not bland and undercooked, the unrelenting clinks of chopsticks are deafening in the silence.
His father doesn't attempt conversation. He never did. His sister sits by his side, eating quietly and quickly— no doubt with the goal of returning to her room as fast as possible. His mother's jaw seems to tense on each clink of his father's chopsticks, but he isn't entirely sure as she is chewing.
Each time his mom raises her head to look at the other occupants of the table, Yoshiki looks down at his own plate and chews quietly.
The blinding silence is interrupted by the blaring sound of his father's ringtone.
He picks up with a tired Yes? and Yoshiki winces.
"Do you have to answer the phone while all of us are eating together?" His mom interrupts.
The plate has never looked more alluring in his whole life.
His father excuses himself and moves to get up and talk in another room, but his mother follows.
"Not only are you disrespecting the food on our table, but also the kids! What will they think— how will they act if this is the example they're served?"
The door slams behind them.
God seems to have cast their gaze upon Yoshiki.
He gets up, trying not to act so rash that it could alarm Kaoru, grabs a bowl and stuffs his leftover rice and vegetables in it. Kaoru watches him silently, so he walks to the kitchen to grab some meat directly from the pot.
"I'll eat the rest in my room, Kaoru. I have something to do." She raises her eyebrow, but doesn't say anything as she shoves her last bite into her mouth and does the same.
When he opens the door to his room, Hikaru is dutifully nowhere to be seen. He knocks on the wardrobe and puts the bowl of food on his study table.
"Wahhh Yoshiki! Are ya for real?" He drools over the food after running out of the closet.
"Yeah. Eat all of it," Yoshiki mumbles, stripping the bed of its sheets.
"Ahh... Yer the best, man."
While Hikaru wolfs down his food, Yoshiki spreads and tucks in new, fresh sheets in a desperate attempt to rid this room of the dirty atmosphere it carries.
"I'm gonna lock the door while we sleep. Jus' ta be safe. But I don't think it's smart to spread the futon out fer ya..." Yoshiki puts the pillows against the headboard and waits for Hikaru to fill out the rest himself. There is no way he's spelling this out for him.
"So ya mean, we should sleep together?" Hikaru asks.
Yoshiki doesn't reply.
"Well, that's no problem! We're both men, so it doesn't matter, right?"
Yoshiki hums.
"I'd like ta brush my teeth, Yoshiki... This is horrible," Hikaru whines, but Yoshiki has no power here.
"I can get ya a toothbrush tomorrow. Sorry."
"Nah, thanks fer helpin' me out, Yoshiki. Although yer clothes are a bit big on me..." He mumbles and trudges over to the bed. Yoshiki elbows him and goes to lock the door.
The bed is tiny, but both parties make sure there is at least a sliver of space between them. Yoshiki sighs as his head settles on the pillow. They stare at the ceiling. Silence drags on for so long that Yoshiki would be sure Hikaru has long fallen asleep had he not known that he snores when sleeping.
Dim moonlight filters through the curtain on his window.
"Yoshiki... I actually have no idea what ta do..." Hikaru whispers. His voice cracks as he continues, "I don't know what that thing is, or what it wants, or how ta get back home with it bein' in my place. I look like the fake next ta that... Yoshiki, what do I do?"
Yoshiki can feel him pulling the blanket. He might be fisting it, or covering his face with it, but it's hard to tell in the dark. If he looks over, he might see pearly tears dotting this Hikaru's eyelashes. His head starts to thrum with pressure.
"Just stay here for now. We'll figure it out, Hikaru."
Hikaru huffs a laugh and Yoshiki's head turns on its own. How did he bury himself so quickly?
"Yeah. Yer right. Yer always right, Yoshiki." The pulling of the blanket ceases, and Hikaru's forearm brushes Yoshiki's. He sighs and turns his back to Yoshiki, leaving a void between them. "G'night."
"...Night."
Two minutes don't pass and Hikaru's soft snoring ruptures the quiet. He sleeps like a log. Wind beats at his window, and Yoshiki finally turns his head back to the ceiling.
In the quiet of the room, void of any sensory input, the warmth emanating from Hikaru's body turns head-splitting. It's an enormous contrast from the Hikaru he's been seeing every day, and an even bigger contrast to the body in the mountain.
He shivers next to the size of it.
Turning onto his side, he breathes in deeply. He can almost feel the smell of his own shampoo on his tongue. His head pounds with shame.
He reaches out and places the very tips of his fingers on the knobs of Hikaru's spine. Hikaru doesn't stir.
Delirious from the warmth, he manages to fall asleep with the void between them ruptured by his very fingertips.