Work Text:
Your eyes drift from one corner of the classroom to another. They swirl alongside the delicate movement of your hands when you write. Fingers feel the paper, and I want to know if you would touch my skin the same way.
You bite your lip, and your teeth flash white. You bite it until it looks pink, as if you’re holding out a scream. And I, I, I… wouldn’t know, would I? I want your teeth on my lips, I want your hands scraping my back, and your body beside me, warm.
And I feel the summer gliding in my back, the start of the long bright days, and I want your body, beside mine. I want to catch your eyes like dandelion seeds; but you’re the wind, and your silhouette feels cold, even when the sun shines the most.
I want your body, beside mine.
I come home to myself. There’s no one here but me and the you I so desire. The you that I take by the hand when you look away from my eyes. There’s you to fill the spaces between the lagoons of my brain. You burn away in my veins, so it boils softly when I see you, and your ashes cling themselves to my nostrils, so I don’t forget your scent.
You burn away softly in the candles of the school altar, like a saint and a demon, like the paradise we’ll never see. And when I sleep, your hands travel to my face, and your lips touch my neck.
And I wish you’d bite, I want to see my blood on your lips, staining your marble face red. I wish you’d scratched, so my blood stained your nails and my skin combined with yours.
Ghost-like devil, rose red saint. Your scent claws its way to my throat, and I beg. I beg for more, I beg of you to pierce my chest, to get on your knees. I beg for you to swallow my remains where God is watching, and for him to tear my insides apart when I sleep within your specter embrace.
But my mind can only lie so much, and I wake up alone, wanting your body beside mine.
This morning your eyes wander about, they find me, and they call my name. I go over to you. When I’m next to you there’s no air to breathe, there’s only you. You fade away and honey mixes with blood. And I want it to fill my mouth, I want to swallow the pieces of you that drift in the air.
And I’m hungry, and I want your body beside mine.
And I’m hungry.
And there’s honey and blood polluting the air.
And I want to swallow what you leave behind.
And I’m hungry.
And I want your body beside mine.
The day after, I kiss someone. She’s not you, by any means. There’s no scent to her, and she laughs when we pull away. Merely an agreement, she’s a vulture that caught me off guard.
In her name I find an excuse and redemption. She’s all leftovers of other lovers, and I’m a cadaver with a half-eaten heart. We’re both shadows of someone else, with tasteless lips and tasteless kisses.
We part, and I try to miss her. But she’s mist to my eyes and I’m hungry.
And I want your body beside mine.
I’m hungry again.
The lights went off, your silhouette kisses me.
I’m hungry.
“I’ll feed you”.
I want your body; I want it beside mine.
And where are your eyes drifting to? Your hands aren’t moving, where is your voice? Your scent traps my body and I swallow.
But recently I’ve noticed you’re no longer alone. There’s another shadow lurking, wanting. His name is Tetsuo. When he’s near you the air is sharper, thinner. Your presence is whisked away by his eyes.
I swallow his name. It tastes bitter and prickles my tongue. Tastes like antiseptic and defeat.
Ah, I’m still hungry. Maybe I was made to be hungry. To forever drift in emptiness, to be a carcass of greediness, maybe I was made to sin.
Is God watching? Right now, as I yearn for you, as my mouth salivates at the sight of your pinkish tongue, the sight of the skin tensing before your collarbones, your neck, is he watching? Is he laughing?
Your hands move in a slow tempo. I want those hands on me. On my skin. I want them to travel slowly, from my chest to my navel. I want those fingers on my mouth, feeling as they press down my tongue, as they kiss my lips.
I want your body caressing mine, moving in the slow tempo you live in. Your skin will stretch, and tense, and your insides will be red. I’ll draw blood, I’ll bite, I’ll feed from you.
“Mita, this information will be on the exam”. I laugh and scratch my neck. The teacher huffs and returns to the front of the classroom. Someone laughs with me, others poke fun in silence.
Your eyes don’t waver.
I’m still hungry.
When I look for you, you’re gone. You’ve vanished with the name of Tetsuo written all over your steps. You leave smoke and the scent on the corridor. I stay in the classroom, so I can absorb your scent.
Won’t you come to me? Won’t I feed from you?
Am I nothing to you?
Ah, I’m hungry again.
The next day, it rains. Your scent is dampened in your empty seat.
It’s been four days.
Shironuma Tetsuo. Sounds like a bad omen, or an earthquake. There’s a bizarre undertone when I taste his name, and I know, you’re not here because of him. You’re afraid of what he could do to you. He’s pushing himself from the creeks between you and I, while staring at me with those dead eyes of his.
I can feel his presence all over your disappearance. His name is engraved in your skin.
He’s pushing himself from the distance, with that high head of his, demanding with his eyes for you. Silently I see how close he is to you.
You feel like an ocean when he’s nearby. You morph into a thunderstorm, into the rain. You turn blue, you’ve been blue since the day you fainted, at the entrance ceremony.
Blue is not the color for you. But you breathe in it, and I sway with the heaviness of honey in the air. It’s you and I. But while you’re the sea, I’m just a drowning rock. Softly, you fade from my view.
Tetsuo goes behind you, erasing the traces that your scent left of you.
Something inside me jerks away. In his face, those dead eyes stare. He pushes himself amidst the creeks of you and me. And I bleed away, crumbling amongst your scent, and the reluctant glances that you throw to the wind.
It rains again.
He leaves early, he’s delivering prints for you. Or so I heard.
Did I ever tell you, how Shironuma really is?
Poor you, poor, poor, poor you.
Have you been caught on his web already? Poor, poor, poor you.
You unlock the door. His voice is like a spiderweb, and he gives you a long glance. You scream, he turns away, leaving a bag behind.
I stare at your closed door, hoping you’d feel my presence, hoping that you’d feel as if I’m calling out to you, like you do to me. Your locked door leads to you, your secrets, the place where your scent sleeps.
The rain travels my body like serpents with their cold skin, falling to the ground in a watery symphony. My knuckles are in front of the door.
I’m cold. The rain hasn’t stopped. Shironuma’s scent lingers while poisoning yours. I lower my hand.
Shironuma.
Poison. A spider. The air is sharper, thinner.
He left a bag on your door. A plastic bag.
Is he mocking me? Is this his way of saying you chose him?
Why him?
But what about me? Did my hunger displease you? Were your lips not looking for mine?
So, your fingers held my being and broke it apart? And now, we’ve come to an end?
He slipped from the creeks between you and I. He painted you blue and left me to die.
Am I supposed to bid you farewell and forget? Go back to the empty house of human carcasses, go back to my hunger, to the you who is already ashes? I burnt you, with my lips and mouth.
This is where we part? Where I go back to the rain and disappear, and then what? I’ll fade away, I’ll die if I wait for you more. And if you slip from under my fingers too, what am I to do? Watch you evaporate right before my eyes; watch you fall under the gaze of someone like him?
I’ll die. I’ll die I tell you. I’ll vanish, I’ll crack like the old buildings and break like glass. Weren’t you looking at me this whole time? Wasn’t your scent reaching out to me, so I would stay?
I’ll die. I’ll die. Maybe I was already dying, maybe I’m just rotting from the inside.
Love me, love me please.
Even if I’m unsightly, a corpse with a half-eaten heart, love me.
I’ll get on my knees, I’ll be good. I’ll kiss your hands, your fingers. I’ll eat away your pain.
I’ll love you when you’re red, when you’re blue. I’ll love you when my hunger dissipates, I promise to you.
But what do promises even mean to you?
What am I? An entertainment that you can spit out when you’re bored?
I’ve abandoned everything. I’m already halfway to hell. I’m engulfed by my hunger, by myself, by God. The prayers, the tears, mercies and punishments, I’ve eaten them all. I’ve swallowed my faith.
But I’m still hungry.
So, so very hungry.
Feed me. Feed from me.
I’ll be good. I’ll beg, I’ll say please.
The next day, you come back. Your eyes look at the ground, and at him.
Have you gotten distracted?
I’m right here.
I’m here, with my arms open. With my heart torn for you.
With the flames on my back. I’m not afraid of hell.
I move before you.
“Can’t you tell that Youji doesn’t like you? Back off already”. My voice has its own mind. And I speak harshly.
His eyes are made of ice, but I’m not afraid. I’m born from shadows; I was born to sin. To be hungry.
“Makoto, stop, it’s okay”. You put your hand on my shoulder, and smile.
You haven’t chosen yet. Please, not yet. Not yet. Not yet. Please, not yet.
I can do better; I can be better. I’ll be better.
My fist connects with his right cheek.
I want his blood to stain the floors. I want it to be a reminder, for him to back away.
But nothing ever goes my way, does it?
I get scolded.
I was never this way, that’s what the teacher’s telling me.
He says he knows I can be better.
But I’m as good as can be. I’m already what I’m supposed to be.
Hunger lurks.
I see you leave with him.
My hunger lingers.
The day after there’s no rain. It’s bright out, I haven’t slept.
In the classroom everything is muddled together. Sounds of pencils, sounds of whispers.
You spare me glance, a small one. So shy, so soft. You turn away to observe the way his hands move, and you touch your lips.
Oh.
It’s fine.
Even if he bleeds you out, even if he leaves you to die, I’ll still love you.
After all, I’m still hungry.
Didn’t you say you’ll feed me?
I haven’t slept.
Honey travels through the air, sweeter and denser. It drowns my lungs. Like yesterday, today is also bright.
A small metallic sound marks my steps.
A few minutes later, you arrive. You sit and stare at the wall, waiting for the class to start.
The keys to the chemistry room feel heavy on my pocket.
“Oh Youji, good morning!” I say as I approach you.
You flinch slightly.
“Makoto! Are you okay? You didn’t catch a cold, did you?” Your eyes scan my face. I smile to you.
That day I begged for you. I was at your doorstep, and I wept and thrashed around. I screamed, spiders coming out of my mouth. You denied, you tried to reach me, but the tips of your fingers had already touched him.
“Yeah, I’m okay now. By the way Kamiya told me to tell you to go to the old chemistry room after classes”. You nod, I slip away.
It’ll be over soon. Everything will be over soon.
The chemistry room is dark. Dim and a tad dusty.
My lips touch yours. They’re soft, sweet. I move my lips against yours, pleading. I’ve waited long enough; I’ve hesitated long enough.
I bite your bottom lip; I kiss it and nibble at it.
You taste like honey, like a cold spring morning. You feel like a first love, you taste like one.
Will you break like one?
My hands grasp your waist, and I squeeze. My saliva glistens in your neck, and I bite. My teeth sink in your skin, just like a puzzle piece fits with another.
I bite harder, your nails scratch my forearms, and your voice tenses. Finally, your skin gives in. It’s metallic, salty. While the honey of your scent drowns my lungs, your blood fills my mouth.
How much can I take from you until your eyes die out?
It’s warm. The room is simmering with your warm blood. Your arms grasp my back, and scratch. My hands bruise your waist, as I move quicker each time. As my hips connect with yours.
Your voice ties me back to you. And you’re begging and crying and moaning.
It’s not enough.
I chant your name. I bite your neck. I draw columns of blood on your abdomen with the razorblade.
It’s not enough.
I give in. I finish inside of you. Your breathing evens out, but I’m not satisfied just yet.
“Youji”. I kiss you; you don’t respond.
I hold the razorblade with both of my hands. And the razor pierces your chest.
Your voice reaches its highest point while I sink the razorblade over and over in your chest.
There’s blood leaking from your wrists, from the wounds I just made. From my mouth.
You don’t close your eyes. I kiss you again.
Flesh falls from your arm, and I swallow. I swallow your blood and your dried tears.
I love you. I’ll always love you the most.
I feed. An arm, your heart, your eyes.
They’re all inside of me, breathing, barely alive.
The remains of your body, lie beside mine.
Summer shines the brightest when I’m aching. Flashes of black always catch my eyes, your face follows my steps, my dreams. You grow, you bloom inside of my veins, of my ribcage.
Every day feels like the end of the world. Where I’ll close my eyes and look for you. Do I have a soul? Will I find you where they tell us star-crossed lover come to burn?
Is the world ending?
I hope so.
I harvested your body like a garden, like the Eden you once were. But, somehow, I’m still hungry, I still want and salivate.
The way back from school was shaky, turbulent. Summer glides on my back, brewing my being with its heat. I open your door.
“I’m home”. I say, while I close the door behind me.
Your house brings me memories that I wish would flash before my eyes. As a sign that you lie asleep in me.
It’s dark. It’s dim and a little dusty. What does this remind you of?
There’s a bandage on my arm.
You see, I have a half-eaten heart and a half-eaten body.
But I’ve already eaten my whole world, I can’t bring myself to swallow more.
And I find myself thinking of you in this room. Sometimes I think that I was wrong. But I’d rather not, because I’ll go mad, and I want to die here.
I tear the bandages. The razor shines like it did before.
Bone flashes white. I bite until it looks red, until it gives in, as if I’m holding out a scream. I want your hands on me, your lips against mine.
And I want your body, beside mine.