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In his own dreams, Yoshiki is often the one that is dead. Without a sound, he stares at Hikaru finding his own dead body – and Hikaru screams so loud, the whole forest seems to hear him. No one comes; no one ever finds him. Hikaru goes home, and life goes on, while Yoshiki’s body rots there, eaten by animals. By summer, only bones are left there.
The other version was seeing Hikaru’s dead body once again – he’s cold, and blood on his face stains Yoshiki’s fingers. Sometimes, Yoshiki stays there; in other dreams, Hikaru’s body morphs in his eyes, and the boy stands up, looking like a freaky monster that is ready to kill Yoshiki. He does, sometimes; in the other version of this dream, he reaches over and presses his lips to Yoshiki, smearing old blood on both of them. They kiss like the world is ending. They kiss, and they lie down, and Yoshiki always wakes up holding his chest and gasping for air.
But all that is just a dream, and it doesn't mean anything more than that.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Hm?” Yoshiki mutters, and his gaze goes to Hikaru.
The boy is sitting there, a little pout appearing on his face as he realizes that Yoshiki was not, in fact, listening to him. He sighs and shakes his head.
“Never mind.”
The old god, or a demon, or whatever Hikaru truly is, is also now being upset about Yoshiki not listening to his weird ramblings about alien movies. When Yoshiki moves closer, looking over Hikaru’s shoulder, the boy hides his screen.
“Not for you anymore,” he says, still pouting.
“I couldn’t sleep today,” Yoshiki sheepishly explains himself.
Today, he got one of those worse dreams – one that made him wake up sweaty, feeling more tired than before he went to sleep, breathing like he just ran a marathon.
“Nightmares?” Hikaru asks, suddenly a bit more empathetic.
“Yes.”
“I can’t eat nightmares,” Hikaru says, “but tea before bed can maybe help.”
Yoshiki takes it with a forced smile.
“I don’t think it will help,” he says honestly.
“What do you dream about?”
Yoshiki tries to keep it together.
“Past,” he answers simply.
This Hikaru is, somehow, a bit brighter with people – even if that doesn’t sound too nice to say. Yoshiki always worry that he will figure out something that he shouldn’t.
“Bad stuff?” Hikaru whispers.
Yoshiki nods.
Sure, let’s say that. Yoshiki is actually not too sure about that. Morbid? Maybe. Scary? For sure. Bad? Hard to say.
“Maybe calming tea then,” Hikaru says, and pats Yoshiki on his knee.
They are sitting in Hikaru’s room, and were supposed to study – instead, Hikaru was scrolling on his phone, and Yoshiki, well… was doing the same.
“I don’t think tea will help at all,” Yoshiki answers.
Only sedation could help him. Or death – dead don’t dream, Yoshiki hopes, cruel as it feels. His best friend is dead, and Yoshiki would just sit here, hoping that nothing really comes after death – just silence.
Hikaru doesn’t look convinced. He thinks about it for a moment, and then snaps his fingers, his eyes snapping towards Yoshiki in a scary manner.
“I read some stuff,” he says slyly, and Yoshiki just stares at him, afraid. “That can help.”
“No,” Yoshiki answers.
“You don’t even know what I’m about to say!”
“I know,” Yoshiki says. “And I don’t want to hear those things from your mouth.”
It is enough to dream about it – there is no need to deal with it in awake world too. Honestly, Yoshiki would rather to listen to anything else than some of those stupid things coming from a body of his friend where the old, demonic thing resided.
To his total horror, Hikaru gets on all fours and comes closer to Yoshiki, staring at him.
“Then what was it?”
Yoshiki swallows hard, and doesn’t answer. Hikaru finally sighs, and smiles politely to Yoshiki.
“I was just thinking about listening to some white noise before sleep.”
“You were not.”
“Then what were you thinking about?” Hikaru groans and sits down. “I truly just thought something like this could work.”
Yoshiki can feel his cheeks burning. Honestly, explaining things like this to Hikaru sounded like a nightmare. After all those weeks that they had spent together, Yoshiki already learnt that Hikaru had crazy reactions to some concepts of human life.
With a cheeky smile, Hikaru tilts his head, staring at Yoshiki.
“Why are you blushing?” he asks. “Where did your mind went, Yoshiki?”
“Nowhere,” Yoshiki lies. “Stop bothering me.”
“You have dirty thoughts?” Hikaru asks so innocently, that Yoshiki for a moment fights the urge to punch him in the arm. “I think it’s the normal age for them.”
“We are not gonna talk about it,” Yoshiki just mutters.
“Hikaru had a lot of dirty thoughts,” Hikaru says, rubbing his chin. “Are they normal at this age?” he asks, like he’s suddenly unsure about it.
Yoshiki swallows hard, and looks away from Hikaru. They were; but not in a way that Yoshiki has them. And not in a way that Hikaru probably remembered that Hikaru memories. Without saying anything else, Yoshiki groans and lies down on the floor with a deep sigh.
As he closes his eyes, he once again goes back to his dreams. Hikaru’s dead, cold body was not something he could ever forget; and his nightmares probably won’t ever leave him alone. Maybe he is just fucked up, and that’s all there was to it.
When he opens his eyes, Hikaru is leaning over him, staring into Yoshiki’s eyes. He doesn’t look too concerned; more like he is close to giggling.
“So dramatic,” Hikaru says, and brushes Yoshiki’s hair from the boy’s eyes. “Are nightmares that bad?”
Yoshiki stares into Hikaru’s eyes. With a soft sigh, Yoshiki’s brain runs to his dreams again; in those, he would reach towards Hikaru, pull him closer. They would kiss – and Hikaru would be Hikaru, and he would push his tongue into Yoshiki’s mouth, making the boy taste the metallic and bitter taste of blood.
They would roll around in the wet, cold grass. Hikaru would rip his clothes off, and touch him like no one else before did. Sometimes, Hikaru would change into this Hikaru – and Yoshiki would push his hand inside Hikaru’s insides, making the boy grip onto him, moan, whisper Yoshiki’s name like he was thanking God.
“Yes,” Yoshiki whispers. “Really bad.”
“Damn. That must suck.”
“It does,” Yoshiki agrees, as Hikaru softly brushes Yoshiki’s hair from his face. “I don’t think they will ever pass.”
Hikaru presses his lips together, as he stares into Yoshiki’s eyes.
“Do you dream about Hikaru’s death?”
Yoshiki feels his lips tremble, and he tries to hide it with a soft sigh.
“I do,” he confesses after a moment. “I—it’s a lot,” he whispers, and Hikaru just nods his head.
Yoshiki knows he doesn’t feel the sympathy. He knows that, in a way, Hikaru will never truly understand it all, and all this sympathy that he shows is just all for pretend. And he pretends like this only for Yoshiki; and this, in some weird way, should be enough. This is probably all that Yoshiki deserves anyway.
The life supposed to be different. Maybe if Yoshiki was never here to begin with; if his mother stayed in Tokyo. Or, if he’s father moved to Tokyo to her – maybe Yoshiki would never have to deal with all those sinister feelings and thoughts.
“I cannot eat your dreams,” Hikaru says softly. “There are no demons nor ghost that attached to you, beside me.”
“I know,” Yoshiki answers. “Humans deal with nightmares. I had those long before… all that.”
Hikaru sighs and tilts his head slightly, still staring at Yoshiki.
“Are they weird?”
“Yes.”
“How weird?”
“... very?” Yoshiki answers. “I’m not telling you my dreams, if this is what you are asking about.”
Hikaru pouts.
“Aww, man,” he mutters. “I’m curious.”
“Well, you not gonna know,” Yoshiki says and sits down, his body uncomfortably close to Hikaru. They were closer before, many times; not today, it was awkward. “Stop asking.”
“Aww.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Oh, Yoshiki, c’mon.”
“No.”
“Pleaseeee.”
“Noooo.”
Hikaru groans and tilts his head back. Then, he smiles slyly and looks at Yoshiki again.
“I can read your mind, you know?”
Yoshiki leans towards him.
“You cannot,” he says softly. “If you did, you would not be here.”
Hikaru’s eyebrows raise slightly. Yoshiki fells his heart beating in his chest so hard that it makes him afraid Hikaru could hear it; but he still goes for it, and stares into Hikaru’s eyes. The boy maybe gets the hint, maybe he doesn’t – maybe it comes naturally to him to frown his eyebrows slightly, and lean towards Yoshiki too.
“Test me,” he says quietly. “You are here through it all. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t know many things about humans yet,” Yoshiki answers. “They are scary.”
“Like what?”
Hikaru didn’t understand death. What it leaves, and how horrific the act in itself could be; he could not yet to understand other concepts. Love was difficult, as was empathy and loneliness, attraction, sex and what comes with it. Yoshiki himself not yet grasp it all; he is barely seventeen, after all.
With a soft sigh, Yoshiki looks away from Hikaru and stares into the corner of the room. In another lifetime, maybe Yoshiki could be more selfish. Cheeky with it. Pull Hikaru close, just for his simple likeness to the boy that he once loved.
But he’s not that selfish nor brave.
“Like my nightmares,” Yoshiki explains gently. “When you understand more, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Hikaru pouts.