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Yoshiki stood in the wet mountain the rain had poured a few hours earlier, his pants and boots covered in mud, trees surrounded him like it was a horror film. Hikaru was gone and Yoshiki had a pit in his stomach; he had to find Hikaru, he didn't want him to be dead. Yoshiki didn't want to find a cold dead body, his bright smile and eyes dull like they were never there. Yoshiki had seen him only a few days ago but it felt like an eternity without Hikaru, they were always together, what would Yoshiki possibly be without him? The pit grew and his ache for his best friend deepened in his heart, dragging him down.
He traveled further up, his surroundings mocking him as his steps got heavier, the mud sinking him in slightly but he persisted, pulling his legs up and he kept looking for Hikaru and his orange coat, he looked everywhere for it but he still hadn't seen it. Hikaru was like the sun, he was so open, wild, carefree, the opposite of Yoshiki and all Yoshiki could do was pray that he was alive, that he wouldn't be cold, that he'd have blood flowing through his veins and his heart beating with the passion he felt for life. Yoshiki had remembered flashes of Hikaru’s father, a kind man who went to the mountain and never returned. Yoshiki would beg the gods that never listened to his other prayers to keep Hikaru around.
He doubted that they'd respond. He stepped forward, the rain began trickling down again, Yoshiki dropped his flashlight and pulled his hood up further covering his head as he grabbed the wet flashlight and stepped forward, the rain pattering onto the trees that flung the water down, pouring a soft stream. Every time Yoshiki closed his eyes he imagined a cold, dead eyed, scared Hikaru lying in the mountain, almost serene in that uncanny way, Hikaru hated horror movies. He imagined Kouhei’s watch on Hikaru's wrist, the glass cracked, father like son. He pushed that thought away and continued, he couldn't lose hope but he felt the water pouring, was it his tears or the rain pattering down? His gut hurt, he knew what he was going to find but refused to believe it, he felt like puking, everything suddenly reminded him of Hikaru, his eyes stung.
Yoshiki took a deep breath, his flashlight flickered for a moment, he wanted to scream, to cry to see his best friend smiling and teasing him, to see the friend who could never cry, that always smiled and made the box Yoshiki lived in liveable. He didn't feel alone for once when he was with Hikaru, he felt free from his rural town, the crosses were gone and it was just them. He breathed out his breath as he wiped his face with his free hand. He hated whatever feeling he felt. He hated the feeling of loss he already got, that everything keeping him happy was going to be lost, Yoshiki hurt, like his soul was being pulled out of his body, he sobbed and sobbed, he gagged, his mucus sliding down his throat. He spit it out, he tapped his flashlight.
No. His stomach dropped as far as it could. He dropped the flashlight, his knees gave out like they were jelly, god please be a joke, keep him with me. He begged silently, the pain hit him, he couldn't move, tears racked his body as he saw Hikaru in that goddamn orange jacket and the crushed watch on his wrist, it was too big. It was too big. He needed to live. Yoshiki slapped his hand against his nose and gagged, trying not to puke as he was mere feet away from his best friend. His face was wet and had dirt on it. Why? Why him? He wanted to scream that it should've been him not Hikaru, Hikaru was the protagonist, like in a manga, he was the one who had something sad happen to him but he always got back up, Yoshiki was meant to be the one to die. No. It should've been him. He pulled his body closer to Hikaru, he brought himself onto his knees.
Hikaru looked so…peaceful. Like he finally felt some kind of freedom but Yoshiki couldn't bear it, he brought his hands to Hikaru's face, Yoshiki's hands felt so warm in comparison to Hikaru, Hikaru was almost clammy, wet, and cold like a dead fish. “Hikaru.” Yoshiki noticed the blood on his left side, he had thought it was dirt at first, it was dry, his eye and the left side of his head had been bleeding. He had to have fallen. Goddamn you. He thought as he held the boy's face, he was so young, too young to die. Nobody like him was the type to die, it was the ones like Yoshiki the side character, it was never supposed to be Hikaru.
Yoshiki's forehead almost touched Hikaru's clammy, and freezing face. Yoshiki had always seen Hikaru as the sun, always bright, warm, so warm. He burned so brightly, Yoshiki loved him for it, he was so beautiful in the way he never changed, soft, carefree, invincible. Hikaru's eyes were dead, there was a different look in them Yoshiki had never seen, they looked dead. Almost alive. Yoshiki would never get to hold Hikaru like this ever again, he wouldn't have if he lived but as his knees were digging into the dirt and he begged anything to keep the dead boy alive he knew it was over, but Yoshiki couldn't even know if he could live without the sun, all plants and animals would die without it and his sun was Hikaru
He'd commit any sin to stick with him, he'd beg the devil to bring him back, he'd sell his soul, he couldn't do it without Hikaru, Yoshiki would keep company with a doppelganger if he still saw the boy he loved, he would lose any humanity he had left, being a monster had already made him farther from a human, he would go farther for Hikaru, he'd give all his air flow for him, die for him; break any rule for his heart to keep beating, a hammer against his glass.
Yoshiki sobbed, his head against Hikaru's soft, empty chest. He had to leave but he couldn't, not yet. Hikaru deserved someone to feel lost, empty without him. Maybe he begged the right gods and he would come back.
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Yoshiki had gotten home, he discarded his boots and Jacket quickly, he was curled into a ball in his room sobbing as he remembered every little detail between them, how Hikaru would never cry, how he would always fall asleep in that movie that they always had to see, how he was so goddamn oblivious, how he never noticed Yoshiki, how he could never face him properly. He remembered how Hikaru loved watermelon, how he was so childish, Yoshiki wanted to pull his soul out so he couldn't feel the pain he felt, his head pounded and his chest ached with the pain of Hikaru being gone. Yoshiki hated the cold, he hated Orange. He felt like puking every time he closed his eyes, he hated every god that made Hikaru die, that made Yoshiki a monster. Yoshiki hated winter, he hated that watch. He missed everything about Hikaru like it was a part of him. Like they were so connected they were telepathic. Yoshiki missed Hikaru; he'd never stop.