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It tore him apart. From the inside out. Like he was made up of a tangled ball of yarn, and they roughly pulled at every thread until it was just like they wanted.
Perfectly beautiful. Perfectly prepped for use.
For what was Yuu if not just that? An amalgamation of every single thread he’s ever encountered, tightly woven right into his core. His heart. And they flow out, attaching themselves to all the people who love him. Who he loves, too.
Guren. Shinoa. Yoichi. Mitsuba. Kimizuki.
Mika.
All threads he once held tightly in his hands, close to his chest to keep them safe. Going as far as tying the ends to each of his fingers, trying ever so desperately to make sure these threads don’t snap this time.
This time. Not like last time. When they were yanked away, dragging him along as the knife cut cut cut through every single one, until all that was left on his fingers were the knots. Until all that he could do was watch as the strings were ripped and sliced out of his life; until all that dangled from his fingers were the remnants.
And even those, he didn’t remove. No matter how much they hurt, how numb his fingers got, he kept them on.
Going to bed, he’d glance at them and see their mangled ends under his eyelids every time they closed. He couldn’t escape them. It felt like they fused into his skin, like if someone tried to tug at them again, it would reopen the wound all over again. And the skin would break and crack. And the blood seep out.
Burn.
Ache.
Scar.
Heal.
Tug.
Repeat.
It didn’t matter that the threads had lost color by then. That whenever they got caught on something, it would slice at his flesh and everything would start over again. It didn’t matter if he began to struggle to remember their faces, when he became scared that he would forget. When that was what everyone called healing.
How could forgetting be healing? How could memories be so torturous?
Pain was something Yuu was used to. The pain of remembering their faces, their cries, their blood. It soothed his soul. Gave him comfort that at some point, people loved him, and he loved them too. That at some point, it had been possible for that to exist.
The threads dug into his skin whenever others approached him. Cackling in his ears that how dare he try to move on, how dare he try to forget what happened? Did he really want to risk going through all of that again?
And he listened. He always listened. So he made sure he never stopped fearing. He carried the sin of what happened on his hands, in the form of these ripped threads.
The only time he gained a new thread, it was sudden. Carefully woven around his neck, and tied just loose enough so he could breathe with the promise of ‘family’. And Yuu knew. That a tug too harsh, and it would close around his esophagus. That it would suffocate him. But, since when hasn’t family been suffocating? Painful?
And yet, he never thought about cutting it off. How could he? Yuu had no reason to live. No energy left in him to bother to cut everything else off. He’d rather cut his short.
But the thread persisted. For four years, Guren Ichinose’s thread sat snugly around Yuu’s neck. Getting tighter, and tighter, every year. And still, Yuu could not break it. Even if he knew it was coming, he told himself it wasn’t. That it was fine.
Yuu had accepted it. If it was to survive, it would be by his right hand. If it was to die, it would be by his left hand. He had no reason to be against this.
Slowly, Guren weaved new threads into his life. They tangled around his fingers, just above the older ones. And Yuu was forced to make the terrifying realization that he had threads again. So beautiful, so vibrant. So fragile.
The old ones still ached. They burned and cried in his ears. But the new ones cheered. They laughed and pulled him forward, along and along.
Don’t get him wrong, Yuuichirou Hyakuya still wanted to die. But now, he had more reasons not to. More reasons besides kill kill kill.
For as much as Yuu wanted to die, he now also found he had a few more reasons he didn’t want to yet.
And then, he came.
Mikaela Hyakuya.
The one thread that never stopped aching. That loved him like a star, burning bright when alive, and collapsing into a singularity when it became unstable. Mika’s thread wrapped around his heart, thick and strong, unbreakable. Picked right back up from where Yuu had kept it safe.
Oh, how easily Mika ruins him. Oh, how easily Mika fixes him.
And, once again, Yuu’s body was full of threads.
And, once again, it became vulnerable.
Tear.
Rip.
Shred.
It echoed out throughout his body, searing through his heart as Mika’s thread attempted to sever itself. Violating his entire body with pain. Until the only thing his mind could comprehend from the flustered and overworked electrical signals in his brain was just…
Pain.
A never ending wound. Leaving him gasping for air, clawing at the walls with his bare nails until they chipped and bled. Eyes blurry from the seemingly infinite tears streaming down his cheeks.
Reconnect.
Restore.
Regenerate.
Resuscitate.
Revive.
comebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomeback-
Hope.
Like a small, shimmering light at the end of a tunnel. One you swear you remember being in before. Like a butterfly landing on your veil on the day of your wedding. Like the scenery of a beautiful sunrise, promising you that despite it all, you’ve made it to the next day.
Mika was all of these. Blonde hair bright like the sun, blue eyes which reflected the sky Yuu looked into often. Even as a vampire, what became the sky was then a sunset.
Mika reflected himself in everything within Yuu’s life. In every mirror he passed, in every puddle on the floor, in every flutter of lashes and pumping of hearts.
You have always been my goal, Mika. Always. If not you, then who else?
It didn’t matter how he existed – human, vampire, or demon – because as Yuu looked at him, into the very depths of his soul, it was always the same Mika.
It doesn’t matter how much this thread hurts. How much it digs into his heart, how much it fuses into his soul. Or how it went from symbiotic to parasitic within his mind.
More than that, Mika was liberating.
Thread so compactly tight around his heart, that it might as well be it. So significant, so important.
Yuuichirou Hyakuya never liked threads. They always brought with them the innate fear and paranoia that one day it would snap.
But this one, it was different. Colored so vibrantly to the rest, never wavering nor leaving. Red. As the stars tugged them together again and again.
The strings of fate have cursed them both, but Yuu found that he didn’t mind it at all.
It put him back together. Picking up the leftover pieces. Untangling the ball of yarn, gently braiding each and every thread until he was him again.
Terrifyingly beautiful. But loved.
And that’s all he’s ever wanted.