Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hikaru likes being human.

He likes the feeling of the sun on his skin, likes the way it hurts if he stays out too long. The pain is distant, only there because he allows it, but it’s still there. Something to analyze. Hikaru loves the way his skin burns, the way Yoshiki scolds him to wear sunscreen on long summer days.

He likes pretending to be human.

School is something endlessly fascinating. Hikaru watches his classmates, the many writhing human bodies, as they all push and poke each other. They love to strain against school, to work around the edges of the order their little society has made. And yet they never break it, just push. They jeer at teachers and yet still quiet down when it’s time to learn. They trip their classmates but only when nobody is looking, or only when someone approving is.

Hikaru loves it all, because he gets to be a part of it.

He laughs at a teacher when she comes in late to class, her hair pulled up messily and face red from rage. The note that’d been stuck to her back yesterday is absent, though clearly not absent from her memory. She glares at him, clearly thinking he was the one to write it.

(He wasn’t, but he watched it happen. The whole class let her walk around with it, solidarity keeping even the least inclined of them quiet.)

He watches when one of his classmates is tripped during gym, the girl who did it giggling playfully. They start chasing each other across the whole field until the teacher finally scolds them.

He watches when a classmate is tripped, this time just in time for her to slam into the corner of a desk. Hikaru takes in the blood that starts to seep into her hair, watching as she lies to the teacher. ‘It was my fault.’ She says. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

The girl sitting behind her stifles giggles as she’s told to go to the nurses’ office.

Hikaru watches it all. He loves it all.

There’s a thrill, a primal one, that thrums under his human skin every time one of them looks him in the eyes and fails to see him for what he is. He has to hold back a hum of contentment every time he’s included in class, called on or made a part of a group or… anything, really.

Because it means the humans are naive. It means they’ve accepted him as one of them.

He loves it for the thrill of it all, but there’s an even bigger reason that keeps him from shedding his human shell. One that’s always at his side, burning into his thoughts like a parasite. One he won’t run from, one he’ll chase like a wolf on the hunt.

Yoshiki.

Yoshiki, Yoshiki, Yoshiki.

Yoshiki is the reason for everything.

His reason.

Hikaru loves school because Yoshiki is there, nudging him when he thinks he’s not paying attention. Hikaru loves the sun because Yoshiki warns him against it, rubbing sunscreen onto his arms when he deems his own efforts hopeless. Hikaru loves being human because it means Yoshiki stays.

Being human means Yoshiki looks at him. Stays with him.

Being human is something he has to be.

Being human is impossible.

Hikaru learns this after the stabbing, after the tears. He learns this when he wrenches half of himself out of his own chest and presses it into Yoshiki’s palms. He is not human and never will be.

Things are strange after that.

He wants to be human so badly. To feel Yoshiki’s eyes upon him with something other than fear. And yet another more primal part of him loves it, loves the agonized and horrified way Yoshiki looks his way. It’s a dichotomy that burns in his chest, makes his self underneath the human skin writhe and push up against it.

Hikaru acts normal. He acts as he always has, and always will. He follows Yoshiki like a dog on a leash, one that’s muzzled itself. One that’s handed its leash to its owner far too willingly.

He acts normal but the burning need under his skin doesn’t stop. It doesn’t go away with the halving of himself, if anything it gets worse. Hikaru no longer has control, not fully. He’s writhing inside of himself, unable to stop it.

He wants to be human. He is anything but.

Those truths burn under his skin even worse than Yoshiki’s knowing eyes do. The way he looks at him and sees him and fears. Hikaru wants to take that fear inside of himself forever, he wants to shove it away and make him happy instead.

He doesn’t know anymore. He just wants.

He wants and burns with it and splits at the seams and-

And one day something breaks.

———

They’re in the library. Everyone is gone.

It’s just them and their research and the buzzing beneath Hikaru’s skin.

Hikaru closes his eyes, playing with his pen as a way to distract himself from how small he feels. How the skin of ‘Hikaru’ is pulling tight. He can feel Yoshiki’s eyes on him, watching.

Always watching.

Hikaru is weak now. Different. It’s his own fault, he’d been the one to give himself to Yoshiki.

Even so, it still burns.

His nature is to consume. To take other beings within himself. Even now as they talk Hikaru watches Yoshiki’s soul, watches as it flickers. It looks so good. So delicious.

He can’t have it. He wants it, he wants it so badly his skin stretches over the monster he hides beneath to hold it back. The writhing mass that is ‘him’ churns as it’s denied its fill.

His gut churns and Yoshiki’s gaze only makes it worse.

There’s a moment of silence as Hikaru wrangles himself under control, the seem at his neck threatening to split.

Then-

“…I’m givin’ this back,” Yoshiki murmurs, holding Hikaru in his palm. “Take it.”

Take it.

Hikaru freezes, bile and something otherworldly gathering at his throat. His teeth feel sharp, his back oddly pained.

As if it were that simple, as if- As if Hikaru could ever reverse what he’s done to himself. He’s Yoshiki’s dog, can’t he see that? A consumer being consumed.

Why would Yoshiki reject him in this way? Why? What had Hikaru done to deserve it? He’d given up half of himself only for it to be offered back out of- what? Pity? Anger? Annoyance that he was too weak? But Yoshiki wanted him weak. Wanted him human.

He wanted him docile. Human. Human, human, hum—

Hot white anger burns in his gut as Hikaru shakes his head, smiling as docilely as ever. He plans to reject the offer. To hide how it makes his teeth ache, how it makes his lungs gasp for air.

But when he opens his mouth to respond, to reject the offer as if it hadn’t carved something deep out of his chest, Hikaru chokes. There’s something pushing against his back. Prodding experimentally, pushing until a lance of pain jolts up his spine. He blinks, confused for a moment at his own pain.

Pain. Something he’s only felt properly recently. Before it’d always been something he’d allowed. Something faint.

This- This is nothing faint.

His own body is- what is it? It’s moving. He feels himself move, his true body writhing beneath his human shell. It pushes angrily at it, at his back. The side of him facing away from Yoshiki, because Yoshiki shouldn’t see this.

Oh god, Yoshiki shouldn’t see this.

Yoshiki. Yoshiki doesn’t like him like this. Yoshiki doesn’t like him.

Yoshiki gave him his half back, as if it’d been worth nothing to him. As if the thing that’d ruined him was something easily forgotten. Hikaru looks up, blinded by the shine of Yoshiki’s soul. It’s so close. So close he could devour it.

He’s too busy falling to the library floor to do it. To do anything other than whine, the sound inhuman and pained.

Inhuman. So inhuman.

He would never be good enough. Never one or the other. Before, at least, he’d been a spirit. A proper one. He’d ruined that for Yoshiki, had turned himself into something so close to human and yet so far away that it burned.

It burned. Burned. God, his back burned.

Hikaru distantly feels human hands on his face and chest as he curls against the floor. Only distantly does he feel Yoshiki against him, small in comparison the writhing mass he hid within himself. So small.

So small compared to what was pressing against his back.

Hikaru bites through his lip when another wave of pain threatens to make him cry out. What was happening? Why was his body… why? Just why?

Why, why, why?

The blood against his tongue tastes like nothing at all. Hikaru groans, feeling the prodding at his back turn insistent. It pushes again, this time so hard he feels something rip. His human shell cracks. Broken.

He breaks open.

Even through the pain Hikaru has enough presence of mind to despair. All of his efforts, and for what? Yoshiki’s here. Yoshiki’s going to see just what a monster he is, even when he’s only half of himself. He could never be human. Never.

Never.

He’d failed so many times before, had almost consumed Yoshiki an untold amount of times. But this was different, raw. He’d been doing better.

He’d become something better. Right?

Hikaru hacks a cough as the crack in his skin widens. More of the mass within himself slips through, solid and real and unlike anything he’s felt before. Usually allowing parts of himself to be free felt like one smooth thing. A smooth part of nature.

This was wrong. It felt closer to his human shell than his spirit self, but oh so wrong. So wrong.

Painful.

Hikaru wheezes, whimpers. He can feel his control slipping. Parts of himself slip out of the scar around his neck, out of his eyes. They pool at the floor, spreading like shards of glass. They, at least, feel like himself.

The part of himself that refuses to listen, to stop, pushes again. It prods at the open wound in his back until it starts to slip free of it. Hikaru’s vision goes white as he gasps, going rigid as the pain overwhelms him.

So easily overwhelmed. So stupid. He’s so stupid.

He’s supposed to be bigger than this, to be something stronger than this. And yet here he is, writhing on the floor in the arms of a human. Breaking himself open.

The mass at his back finally pushes free. Or is it two? Hikaru can’t tell. He doesn’t want to. He pants, his true body slithering against the floor. It looks, through the blurry haze of his vision, like human blood.

Hikaru bites back a sob.

The ringing in his ears starts to die down. Hikaru hadn’t even noticed it, not until it starts to fade. He huffs labored breaths as his body starts to relax, the human shell going limp and his true mass wriggling back beneath skin.

The pain is fading, and with it leaving comes a replacement. Weariness.

His body feels… free. Hikaru frowns, licking his bloody broken lip as he tries to understand. To comprehend what just happened. He feels lighter than before, lighter than he’s felt in a long time. More natural.

His true self slots into place beneath his skin easily, as if it fits. As if it no longer is stuck underneath something far too small for itself.

Why…?

“…ika… ru…”

Hikaru opens his eyes. When had he closed them? He blinks against the blinding shine of Yoshiki’s soul, practically pressed right up against his face. He could just lean forward and eat it. Take him within himself.

He’s far too tired to even want it.

“Hikaru!” Yoshiki says. Hikaru squints, his face coming slowly into focus and- oh.

Oh, he’s crying. His human is crying.

“Hikaru, Hikaru please, not again, no, no,” Yoshiki sobs, words tumbling out of his mouth like a prayer. “What- What just happened- please, please be okay, Hikaru, please.”

The words make Hikaru ache. The monster under his skin, now content to stay beneath, growls lowly. Roils.

“…’m okay…” Hikaru slurs, bringing a trembling human hand up to Yoshiki’s. Yoshiki is cradling him, holding his face in his lap as though to cushion him from the floor. His hands are desperate, fingers tangled in his hair. “I’m ‘ere.”

Yoshiki shudders. He brings one hand up to wipe tears away, eyes hollow with horror. Hikaru hasn’t seen him like this since he’d been cut down by the sword.

Yoshiki whispers frantically to himself as he wipes the tears away, hand covered in-

Blood?

Yoshiki is covered in human blood. Not his own, Hikaru can tell, so who…

Oh.

Hikaru feels something. Something foreign inside of him. He’s laid out on his side in Yoshiki’s lap, his pained back angled away from his chest. And Yoshiki…

Yoshiki has one arm inside of his chest, pressed up to the elbow. He’s still sobbing, tears slipping down his cheeks to land on Hikaru’s chest. On his arms.

Now that he’s aware enough to feel things beyond pain again Hikaru can feel Yoshiki’s fingers inside of him. Usually it feels good, makes the buzzing under his skin purr in content pleasure.

But this isn’t anything like the hesitant touches from before. Yoshiki is forcing his hand further inside, the half of Hikaru he’d been gifted clutched in his palm.

He’s trying to force Hikaru back inside of himself. Trying to fit the two halves back into a whole.

He’s trying to reject him.

Hikaru feels something boil up in his chest, choking him. The pain in his back fades to the background as, instead, something else makes his breath hitch. He looks up into Yoshiki’s eyes, into those horrified eyes, and…

And…

And he hates.

“Stop!”

The sound Hikaru makes when he wrenches himself off of Yoshiki’s lap is guttural. Feral. Yoshiki’s arm slides out of him with an ominous tearing noise, half of Hikaru still in his clutched fist. Yoshiki wheezes as Hikaru falls onto the floor.

Hikaru is stunned for a moment by the pain when he lands on his back. He still has no idea what’s happening to him, why his back has changed, but he can’t let Yoshiki touch him like that any more. He- He can’t.

“Hikaru!” Yoshiki yelps, crawling forward on bloody hands towards him. Hikaru snarls, feeling parts of himself slip free from the seems.

Yoshiki flinches.

Of course he does. Hikaru hears himself laugh, a small ugly thing. Of course Yoshiki flinches away. He’s an evil monster of a spirit, after all. Something far removed from the human host he’s replaced.

And now he’s revealed far more of himself than he’d ever meant to. He’d been trying to keep things together.

He’d been doing so well at being human.

Hadn’t he?

“Stop,” Hikaru repeats, mouth tasting of iron, “Stop trying to give it back! Stop!”

He hunches into himself, trying to angle his back away from Yoshiki’s gaze. He knows it’s useless, knows he’s already seen whatever it was that’d happened, but he just- He can’t.

Maybe… Maybe if he gives in. Maybe if he reaches out and takes Yoshiki’s soul. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to see those pained eyes again. He wouldn’t have to endure those confusing words and conflicting demands.

“What do ya want from me?!” Hikaru snarls, watching Yoshiki’s gaze as it flits over him. Moves to his hands, then to the parts of him spilling out onto the floor. “First ya hate me for bein’ inhuman. Bein’- I dunno. Bein’…”

Hikaru trails off, unsure of what he’s even trying to say. What can he say that can even begin to touch on what burns underneath his skin?

His back twitches. Burns.

“And now you want to give back my gift? I’m tryin’!” Hikaru’s voice cracks. The buzzing under his skin, sated by whatever had slipped outside of himself and solidified, begins to writhe again. To squirm. “I’m tryin’ to be good for you! To be human! I-“

Hikaru swallows.

“I- I’m tryin’.”

Maybe he should just consume again. He’d halved himself to try and stop his urges, to stop the voices that whispered to eat and consume and end. But maybe- maybe he would only feel better if he did. Maybe he was just a coward. Maybe Yoshiki wouldn’t love him either way.

Maybe-

“I’m sorry,” Yoshiki says.

Hikaru stares at him. At this human, the human his host had begged him to stay beside. A human that burns so brightly it hurts.

The writhing under his skin slows as Yoshiki crawls even closer, inch by inch, until he’s close enough to reach out and touch Hikaru. To pull him close again.

He doesn’t.

He just sits back and looks down at him with wide wet eyes, blood staining his cheeks from pointless attempts at stifling tears.

“I- I thought it’d help ya,” Yoshiki says, each word said carefully. Controlled. Wary, always wary, but soft. “I couldn’t-“

Yoshiki inhales sharply, breathing out through his teeth.

“I thought you were dyin’ or somethin’,” Yoshiki says, gritting his teeth as though the words hurt. “And- And before that I was… concerned. ‘Cause you were gettin’ hurt.”

Yoshiki looks at him, gaze all too knowing. Hikaru feels like a bug pinned by a needle.

“I don’t want ya hurtin’.”

Oh.

…Oh.

An ugly laugh bursts from Hikaru’s chest. He licks his lips, finally tasting the blood on them, as he wheezes out laughter. His ribs ache as though they’re being scraped away. He’s being scraped away. Taken apart.

The laughter is short lived.

“Oh,” he murmurs, gaze falling to the floor. It’s covered in blood and his own writhing body. Some of himself has slipped free again without his permission, pooling between them both like a sin to be shared.

They don’t say anything for a moment. There’s just silence and warmth and pain. Gentle pain, like a mothers’ touch after a fall. Like the press of a kiss against a bruise.

Hikaru is a bruise, purpling and yellowing and a mark of a past sin. A rough fall.

“Well, this is embarrassin’,” Hikaru mumbles, trying and failing to smile. To brighten up and brush himself off. “Way to be dramatic, huh? Lotsa good that did me. Mama’ll have a fit when she sees the state’a me.”

Yoshiki rolls his eyes. Scoffs, as though Hikaru is being ridiculous.

“After what I just saw I’d say yer not reactin’ enough,” Yoshiki says, his breath catching a bit. The words are wobbly. Hikaru’s false smile catches, just a bit.

Yoshiki’s seen him. He’s come face to face with the monster, he’s seen that even being ripped in half cannot end something inhuman. Even crippling a god does not remove its followers.

Hikaru shifts from where he’s propped up on his arms, trying to sit properly. His back burns so badly that he has to bite back a wince.

He can’t move enough to survey the damage. To find out what happened to his human shell. Hikaru grins up at Yoshiki, trying to hide how unnerved he is by smiling the same way he always does. The way he knows Yoshiki likes.

“I dunno,” Hikaru says, voice scratchy and throat burning, “Wanna tell me what ya saw? ‘m kinda flyin’ blind here.”

Yoshiki flinches at the last sentence. He swallows, gaze full of something hesitant. Fearful.

Fearful, fearful. Always fearful. When is Yoshiki ever not?

“You… I…” Yoshiki says, voice shallow and tone hesitant. “You have wings.”

It’s blunt despite the hesitance, just like Yoshiki always is. He-

Wait, what?

Hikaru tries to stand, twisting wildly. He fails spectacularly, falling into Yoshiki’s arms with an inelegant yelp. Yoshiki pulls him down as he goes, hands trembling despite not being the one in pain.

This can’t be happening. Hikaru focuses on the crack in his back, the dulling pain of it all. The masses that’d burst free twitch when he tries to move them, as though connected to invisible muscle and bone he never had before.

It hurts to do it, but Hikaru tries moving them anyway. They barely twitch.

He’s so fucking weak, and all because of something he did to himself.

Why does even have these? It feels wrong. He barely understands himself, what he is, but he knows this shouldn’t be happening. There’s a deeply ingrained feeling of rejection at the thought of having wings, as though the very concept is ridiculous.

And yet… And yet-

Hikaru feels his breathing pick up, turning into a shallow wheezing. He’s always vividly aware of his human shell, of every function. Usually it fascinates him, brings him at the very least some comfort that he’s Hikaru now and not the lonely thing on the mountain. Now, though, all it brings is the acute awareness that his body has changed.

He’s changed again.

What even is he, if not human? If not monster? What is he? Why-

Why does he exist? He can’t consume anything, can’t sink into the comfort of being what he is. He can’t do it. He can’t do anything, can’t be anything, and-

Hands cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes. Hikaru’s vision wavers and slips back into place, and oh. He’d been slipping out of his shell again. Hikaru forces himself back inside, his cold writhing body brushing against Yoshiki’s fingertips as he goes.

Yoshiki flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

He stays.

Hikaru grits his teeth, baring them like a dog. He locks eyes with this boy. This human. The human he’s tried so hard to become, to conform to. The human that hates him, that’s afraid of him. The human that has stabbed him and cried over him and apparently tried to help him when he saw he was hurting.

He stares. And he just- he just…

He doesn’t understand.

“Why?”

Hikaru surprises himself with the question. He flinches back, eyes widening as Yoshiki’s fingers dig into his face in response as if to keep him close. Yoshiki himself stares back, just as wide eyed. Just as surprised.

Like a dam bursting Hikaru can’t stop himself now that it’s begun.

“Why? Why stay?” Hikaru asks, the words burning his tongue as they escape, “You clearly are afraid of me, hate me, so why-“

He chokes, annoyed at how his human body betrays him. He wills his tears down, stopping the reaction. It was weakness.

Weakness. He’s so weak, now.

“Hate you?” Yoshiki parrots. His eyes narrow, glistening with tears even as he glares. He looks beautiful like this, angry and covered in blood. His soul is burning like a sun. “When did I ever say I hate you, idiot?”

Hikaru sputters.

“Bu-“

“But nothin’!” Yoshiki snaps, fingers digging into Hikaru’s cheeks. He squeezes them together absurdly. Hikaru’s sure from the bodies’ memories that he must look like a goldfish. “Of course I’m afraid of ya, I don’t even know what ya are! But I also think you’re annoyin’ and silly and impatient. A brat.”

Yoshiki huffs.

“And ‘sides,” he says, “I’ve always liked monsters anyway. Or do you have selective memory?”

Oh.

Hikaru feels something relax, uncurl. Yoshiki doesn’t hate him. He- He didn’t reject him either. Hikaru is still weak, still split in two, but Yoshiki accepts him. He accepts him, so it’s okay.

It’s okay.

“Okay.” Hikaru murmurs.

Hikaru sighs between his teeth, shoulders sagging. He sinks down into Yoshiki’s lap, the burning ache of his back dulling.

It’s okay. Yoshiki’s here.

“You’re heavy,” Yoshiki deadpans, “Stop.”

Hikaru doesn’t.

———

Yoshiki takes him home.

He carries him on his back until they make it to their bikes, and then hovers at his shoulder as Hikaru leans heavily against the bike to stand.

The feeling of helplessness should grate on Hikaru, should feel as though it goes against his very being, but Yoshiki’s hand on his elbow melts it all away until all he’s left with is a content hum.

They hide his wings using his backpack and Yoshiki’s shirt. It burns, hurts so badly that he sobs a bit when they first wrap the bottom half of his wings in the cloth because it cant be hidden by the backpack, but he grits his teeth and bears it. There’s nothing else they can do, and so Hikaru wears the odd contraption and hobbles on shaky legs all the way back to Yoshiki’s place.

It takes ages.

When they make it there Hikaru is sweaty, his grin smaller than usual. Strained. Yoshiki has given up on staying away from him, instead throwing Hikaru’s arm over his shoulder and acting as another crutch. Their bikes are thrown haphazardly against the ground as they stumble inside, Yoshiki’s mom barely throwing a glance their way as they head to his room. She’s too used to him coming over to think anything of it.

They make it to Yoshiki’s bed. Yoshiki grumbles and shoves at Hikaru until he’s laid out on his stomach, wings free of painful fabrics and pressure.

He’s still laid like that minutes later when Yoshiki slides into the room, his hands full of a small bucket of water and cloth.

“Ya gonna treat me like a princess, Yoshiki?” Hikaru asks, flashing him a smile that’s all teeth. He still feels uneasy, stretched thin, but Yoshiki makes it all something secondary. “Treat me right?”

Yoshiki rolls his eyes. His hands shake as he sets the bucket to the side and sits on the bed. It creaks under his weight and dips, forcing Hikaru to lean closer to him.

“You’re not a princess, more like a dragon,” Yoshiki teases. The words come out shaky and serious like they always do with him, but Hikaru can tell he’s trying to joke. “Got the wings ‘n everythin’.”

Hikaru shivers when Yoshiki brings the wet cloth to one of his wings. It burns, hurts, but beneath it there’s relief. He’s gentle.

Yoshiki is so very gentle as he wipes blood away, fingers pressing against every ridge and dip in Hikaru’s newborn flesh. Hikaru’s feathers are damp and molting, ugly things that make no sense when compared to the birds that are singing just outside. Yoshiki touches them like they’re precious anyway, like every single one is something more valuable than the last.

The blood is crusted onto his skin from their walk in the heat, so Yoshiki wets it all and waits for it to soften before wiping it off with the rag. It takes a long time, Hikaru’s wings are long and wide and absolutely covered in blood, but they have all the time in the world.

Hikaru feels something in his chest unwind. His very being sighs as he feels Yoshiki’s fingers brush his skin. He closes his eyes and instead focuses on the flicker of Yoshiki’s soul beside him, so beautiful and warm. It’s pressed so close that he would only have to give it one little tug and it’d be his.

Maybe it already is.

Not everything is okay, but right now he’s content. They both are.

Hikaru will make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“I’m definitely gonna fly today,” Hikaru says. His teeth flash in the low light of dusk as he balances precariously on a tree stump in Yoshiki’s yard, one leg spread out into open air.

Yoshiki snorts. He rolls his eyes, but keeps flinching forward minutely each time Hikaru wobbles.

“Yeah, right,” Yoshiki mumbles, gnawing at the end of his pencil. “Jus’ like ya flew yesterday. And the day before. And the day-“

Hikaru screeches as he jumps from the stump and lands on top of Yoshiki, making him stumble and yelp. His legs almost buckle under the weight and his pencil goes flying into the grass.

“Stop-!” Yoshiki protests as Hikaru wrestles him to the ground, his wings flared behind him. They both end up a sprawled out mess, Yoshiki’s legs pinned under Hikaru’s own. Hikaru can’t help the laughter that bubbles from his chest, the satisfaction making him want to bite into Yoshiki and stay there.

“You were sayin’?” Hikaru taunts. “I’m pretty sure I was off the ground for ages just then. Like, bam! Jus’ grabbed ya like one o’ those birds of prey.”

Yoahiki just glares up at him, pouting. The last light of dusk paints shadows over his face, his bangs obscuring his eyes. Hikaru brushes them away unthinkingly, watching as Yoshiki flinches a bit at the touch. His eyes are wide and watery, something in them that Hikaru can’t place.

Hikaru leans down, his wings curling to cover them both.

“You’re my prey,” Hikaru whispers. “How bout that?”

It’s not very human of him, the way that his eyes flash at the thought of Yoshiki as something he chases. It’s not very human of him to chase his soul, to pin him to the grass and watch as it flickers amongst the bugs and dirt.

But, well. Yoshiki said he didn’t mind, didn’t he? And it’s Yoshiki’s opinion that matters.

Yoshiki reaches up as Hikaru is distracted by the way his soul flickers, and tugs harshly at his hair.

“Ah! Ow, ow, ow!” Hikaru whines, tumbling to the side as Yoshiki pulls his hair harshly. He follows the movement until he’s off of Yoshiki, his wings tucked protectively at his back.

He’s gotten much better at using his wings in the past week of having them. He can move them on command now, and they no longer look ugly and wet like a baby birds’. They’re white and huge, majestic in a way Hikaru loves to flaunt.

He can’t put them back inside of himself. This part of his true body doesn’t want to be hidden, and so Hikaru doesn’t try to. Not around Yoshiki, at least.

“I could be a snake, y’know,” Yoshiki says. He sits up from the grass, shaking dirt out of his hair as he goes. “Ya might try and grab me and end up grabbed yourself.”

Hikaru snorts, sitting up to join Yoshiki. Side by side.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Hikaru says. He watches Yoshiki’s soul swell at the words even as his body flinches. It’s beautiful.

“Gross,” is all Yoshiki has to say on that matter. They fall into a momentary quiet, listening to the low buzz of nature around them. Dusk is the perfect time for the bugs to come out to play. The deer, too, with their wide eyes and quiet footsteps. Hikaru loves it all.

He loves the houses more. The souls they hold.

“Mom hasn’t found out yet,” Yoshiki says, after another moment of quiet. The words are said carefully, as if scared they would ruin something. “But she will, if we keep this up. I mean, you’re all out’n about with your wings out like this. In our yard.”

Hikaru pouts, leaning into Yoshiki’s side. He throws a wing over him and laughs when he sputters and bats it away.

“It was your idea!” Hikaru says, still grinning when Yoshiki glares his way.

“No it wasn’t! You were whinin’ up a storm, I just gave in!” Yoshiki snaps. He pushes at Hikaru’s shoulder in annoyance. Hikaru lets it happen with a burst of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hikaru says. “Whatever helps ya sleep at night.”

Yoshiki huffs.

“Anyway!” He says, narrowing his eyes at Hikaru as if daring him to interrupt. “Ya can’t go to school like this. We need a plan.”

Hikaru deflates, wings curling tighter against his back. School. They’d managed to avoid school for a whole week by saying he was sick, and that Yoshiki had caught it too, but by now it was time to go back. A whole week was already pushing it, anyway.

Hikaru had stayed at Yoshiki’s place the whole week, claiming he was quarantining himself so he wouldn’t infect his family. Yoshiki’s sister had complained that he must be fine infecting them, then, but Yoshiki had rebutted that since he was oh so sick as well they would’ve been exposed anyway.

It was flimsy logic. Very flimsy. But Yoshiki’s family was rarely home, and rarely all at once, so it just made sense to try and stay at his place.

“You boys,” Yoshiki’s mother had said, shaking her head. “Joined at the hip. Just don’t get us sick and I’ll allow it.”

And that had been that. Since then, Hikaru had stayed cooped up in Yoshiki’s room, hidden away. Yoshiki had stolen some of his dads’ old shirts for Hikaru to wear, as they were baggy enough to hide his wings. It wasn’t perfect, his wings were too long to be hidden by a shirt alone, but it was better than nothing. Whenever a family member saw him his back was always to the wall, or he was in bed under a blanket.

He’d been dying of boredom, cooped up in one room all day. Today was the first day he managed to convince Yoshiki to let him outside, and that was only because his mom and sister were going to be gone all night. Something about a family friend.

“What if I wore a cape?” Hikaru says. “Y’know, like that one character in uhhh… y’know. The show. That one show.”

Yoshiki stares at him, looking for all the world like he regrets everything. Which, unfair. It’s not Yoshiki that grew wings!

“You are not wearing a cape to school,” Yoshiki says, deadpan.

“Woah,” Hikaru says, shuddering. “You sound just like your mom.”

Yoshiki swats him over the head with his hand, clearly on instinct. Hikaru delights in the way he freezes in horror at his own reflex, clearly realizing how similar it is to his moms’ own.

Hikaru hides his grin quickly, turning it into a teary pout in the time it takes for Yoshiki to look up from his hand.

“What was that for…?” Hikaru whimpers.

“Shut up,” Yoshiki grumbles. He glares at the grass for a moment, playing with it as he thinks. Hikaru watches his soul flicker, content to sit in the silence. “We need’a get back on track. How’re ya gonna go to school like this?”

Hikaru hums lowly, perching his chin on one hand as he thinks.

He really doesn’t want to miss out on school. He loves school, loves the way it’s packed to the brim with humanity. It’s fun watching Yoshiki as he suffers through it silently, his mood souring with each hour they stay cooped up in the building. It’s become a routine he likes, a routine he doesn’t want to lose.

“I dunno what to do other than a cape,” Hikaru admits, watching Yoshiki’s soul flicker with each breath. They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, so close he could reach out and pluck it from the air. “Maybe I could stuff it in my pants?”

Yoshiki blinks.

“That’d look weird,” he says, “Lumpy.”

Hikaru grins.

“We could say the disease gave me a lumpy ass,” he says.

Yoshiki barks out a laugh before he catches himself and glares at him. Hikaru loves the way he pretends to be grumpy. It’s cute.

“No.” Yoshiki says, clearly unable to think of a better response. Hikaru snorts.

“M’kay, fine,” Hikaru says. “How ‘bout this. Wings under a shirt, my pants, and then a jacket ‘round my waist to hide the lumpy ass. That good?”

Yoshiki blinks. He opens his mouth for a moment, clearly wanting to say something negative, before he pauses.

“Hm,” he says, “Not like there’s anything else we can do.”

Hikaru grins. He leans to the side and falls into Yoshiki’s lap, wings fluttering in the air near his face. Yoshiki sputters as he gets a mouthful of feathers, glaring, but doesn’t pull away.

“Y’know, ya could just say I’m a genius ‘stead of dancing around it,” Hikaru says. “C’mon, compliment me. You can do it.”

“No!” Yoshiki says, one hand coming up to swat at Hikaru’s wing. In return Hikaru pushes it further into his face.

“You know ya wanna,” Hikaru teases, wiggling in Yoshiki’s lap like an overexcited cat. One of his feathers pokes Yoshiki’s eye.

“St- Stop that!” Yoshiki says. He wrangles the wing in his face down, folding it against Hikaru’s back with a huff. Even as he bullies it down he’s gentle, careful to not bend the feathers or hurt Hikaru.

God, he’s so gentle. Hikaru wants to eat him.

Hikaru lets it happen, falling still against Yoshiki’s lap. He holds his breath when a hand lands on his feathers, fingers carding through them. Yoshiki finds one of the many pin feathers left behind from the wings’ birth and rubs it between his fingers, freeing it. It scratches an itch that has Hikaru slumping further into his lap, boneless.

“Mmm, don’t think ya distracted me,” Hikaru slurs, turning to glare up at Yoshiki from his lap. Yoshiki ignores him, avoiding eye contact. “I’m still owed a compliment.”

“You’re loud,” Yoshiki says. One of his fingers catches on a feather out of place and he carefully adjusts it back.

“That’s not a compliment.”

“Shut up.”

It’s getting to be properly dark outside now. Hikaru can see Yoshiki just fine, eyes adjusting, but he’s sure Yoshiki must be having trouble now. Humans are weird like that. Fragile things with barely any survival tools.

Though, Hikaru supposes he is fragile now too. Brittle wings and all.

He doesn’t know what he is. All he knows is he’s both strong and vulnerable, impenetrable and breakable. All he knows is that he used to consume in the same way humans breathed, and now he is too small for things to fit. Self inflicted, of course, but still…

He’s small now. It hurts, just a bit, but Yoshiki’s fingers in his wings make it better. Make it worth it.

Hikaru hums the melody of a song they’d learned together in choir, relishing in the way his bodies’ vocal cords vibrate. He loves singing. It’s a strange thing, music. How certain tones are perceived as desirable by humans. It all feels so finicky, so strange.

He can’t help but love the rules of it. Hikaru loves molding himself to fit the rules, while knowing he can go beyond them.

He starts to hum dissonant tones, out of key. Yoshiki’s fingers pause in his feathers.

“You suck,” Yoshiki says. Hikaru grins in the dark.

“That’s not a compliment, either,” Hikaru murmurs.

“You’re not even in key,” Yoshiki says, ignoring Hikaru’s words. He’s good at that. “Even my mom could’a sung that better.”

Hikaru shifts in Yoshiki’s lap, turning to look at him. He stares at him, expression grave. Yoshiki’s hands tense against his feathers, fingers twitching.

“I’m telling her ya said that,” Hikaru says, voice deadly serious. He lowers his tone, expression deadpan.

Yoshiki jumps.

“No ya ain’t!” Yoshiki yelps, “You better not! I- I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Hikaru taunts, before he springs up and jogs away.

Yoshiki chases Hikaru inside of his house, slamming the door shut behind him. He continues to ramble as they go, Hikaru listening with half an ear. He nods and smiles and thoroughly retains none of Yoshiki’s scolding.

The bedroom is a mess now, after a week of them sharing it. Yoshiki’s bed is piled with at least four blankets, all caved inward like a nest. The teasing had been relentless when Hikaru had made it, but he couldn’t help it. It was comfy.

The floor was a murder scene, manga laid out at every step and textbooks strewn about haphazardly. They’d attempted school when Yoshiki’s mom had demanded it, but the books were otherwise untouched on their thrones on the floor. The manga were the focus, with dog ears and bookmarks on each one. Each bookmark was worse than the last, one of them was a whole tshirt Hikaru had stuffed inside it when he’d been told he could finally go outside.

It was messy and ridiculous and theirs.
Hikaru loved it.

“…You can use my jacket tomorrow,” Yoshiki was saying, finally having moved on from the flustered scolding. “I don’t think ya have yours at my place right now.”

“Nope!” Hikaru says, diving into the blankets on the bed. He tucks his wings close as he rolls over, beckoning Yoshiki to join him.

Yoshiki blushes to his ears.

“I’m not sleepin’ with you,” he says, eyeing the pile of blankets he’d made on the floor the first night of their week long sleepover.

“C’monnnn,” Hikaru says, patting the bed like one would for a dog. “It’s warm here. And I doubt the floor’s comfy to sleep on. Trust me, I roll ‘round on it all the time.”

Yoshiki hesitates. Hikaru watches the gears turn, waiting patiently. He’s stubborn, sure, but sometimes…

“Fine.”

Sometimes his weak spot reveals itself.

Hikaru’s grin softens and he clutches one of the blankets, scooting back. As Yoshiki climbs into the bed, stiff and awkward, he throws the blanket over him. Then, for good measure, he bullies Yoshiki closer and throws a wing over him.

Yoshiki chokes, blush visible to Hikaru even in the dark. He’s tense for a long time, but eventually he finally starts to melt into the bed. Into Hikaru’s wing.

It’s minutes later, as Hikaru is nearing sleep, that Yoshiki speaks.

“You’re good at this.”

There it is. The compliment.

Now Hikaru just needs to find out what that even means.

Chapter Text

Yoshiki feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff more often than not these days.

It’s not all bad, is the thing. He’s learned to love the rush of it, the way his stomach swoops when he looks down and down and down. It’s just… there’s no end in sight. No way to leave this spot where his toes hang off the edge and his center of gravity teeters.

He doesn’t have the wings to save himself if he falls.

It’s not all bad. Really.

Yoshiki runs fingers through Hikaru’s wings- and isn’t that insane, the fact that he has these now- and thinks. He can’t stop himself from thinking, not in moments of quiet like these. They’re becoming more and more frequent and with them comes the choked breaths and clenched fists that he knows aren’t helping the situation at all.

“‘M gonna fly today,” Hikaru murmurs, face down on the bed. Yoshiki can’t see anything of him beyond the mass of feathers and fluff of his hair.

He says that every day. Today, it feels different. True.

“Okay,” Yoshiki hears himself say. His fingers stutter before continuing to fix Hikaru’s feathers. They’re crooked and awkward after school, a product of being forced under clothes and hidden beneath his backpack. Every day, without fail, Hikaru whines his way into Yoshiki’s bed and Yoshiki fixes the mess. Every day, without fail, he goes back home afterwards with a grin on his face and a hole in Yoshiki’s room where he used to be.

Yoshiki isn’t sure he’s fully processed Hikaru having wings yet. It’s been at least a week and half and yet he still feels numb when he sees them, like he’s looking at them from behind a screen.

A part of him loves them. They’re physical proof Hikaru is different from the boy that he grew up with. That he’s inhuman and different and will never be the body he inhabits. There’s no more layering of his vision, those short breaths where Yoshiki forgets the time and place and sees his friend instead of the monster.

Another part, a small part that takes his breath away, hates them. Hates that they tore and ruined and broke what was his friends’ to own. That body wasn’t Hikaru’s to maim. It wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. This shouldn’t be happening, it shouldn’t, why-

“You good?” Hikaru asks, shifting on the bed. He peeks up through his hair, wings twitching under Yoshiki’s fingers. Yoshiki tenses, moving his hands into his sleeves to hide how they’re shaking.

Hikaru looks different, like this. So very different from the Hikaru of Before. He’s looking at Yoshiki through sleepy lidded eyes, something vast and red beneath them. His wings are spotted with black feathers at random, only accentuating the pure white of the rest. One wing moves up to block the low light of the setting sun, draping to cover Yoshiki playfully.

“‘M fine,” Yoshiki mumbles, embarrassed. He ducks his head, blushing as Hikaru sits up. He’s shirtless, like he always is after school. Better for his wings. “Jus’ thinkin’.”

Hikaru looks at him for a moment, face blank. Then he blinks and smiles, sharp canines peeking through. He’s chosen to ignore Yoshiki’s failings. The way he’s never-

No. Don’t think about it.

“Well, stop thinkin’,” Hikaru scolds, standing. He yawns and stretches, wings flaring. Yoshiki watches them move. “I’m about to fly for the first time. That’s much more important than your thinkin’.”

Yoshiki blinks.

“Uh, where are ya even gonna-“

“Let’s go!” Hikaru says. He moves through Yoshiki’s room, still shirtless with his wings on full display. Yoshiki yelps, dragged along by his hand on his wrist.

Yoshiki almost has a heart attack when Hikaru casually exits the house, as if nobody was around but them. His moms’ and sisters’ shoes are by the door, and he only has a second to thank whatever gods are listening that they must be in their rooms and missed Hikaru on his way out before Hikaru is outside and facing him. He has his hands on his hips, his wings flared.

“I have neighbors, y’know,” Yoshiki pants, glaring. “One’a these days-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hikaru says, rolling his eyes. “What’re they gonna do? Report a birdman in the area? Like- ‘oh please help, please help! There’s a super duper scary guy flyin’ around and actin’ like a bird! Whatever will we do-!’”

“That’s exactly what they’ll do, idiot!” Yoshiki says. He reaches out a hand to push one of Hikaru’s wings down, but Hikaru dances away before he can. “Just cause there ain’t much out here doesn’t mean they won’t do nothin’ bout-“

Hikaru ignores him. Of course.

Yoshiki cuts himself off, deflating. He watches as Hikaru jogs over towards a relatively hidden part of the property away from any pathways.

“Can we at least go to the forest?” Yoshiki asks. Pleads, more like. Hikaru pauses.

He looks at him, quiet for a moment. Yoshiki’s breath catches at the expression on his face, something serious and thoughtful.

It’s an expression that’s vastly different from the ones Yoshiki grew up with. His childhood friend used to scrunch up his face when he was thinking, especially when it was about something serious. He’d purse his lips and tilt his head, and look all for the world like the thoughts were painful.

Hikaru’s face is blank.

“…M’kay,” Hikaru says after a moment. “Sure. Let’s go to the forest.”

They do. It takes a while, even with how far out Yoshiki’s house is. They ride their bikes there, with only a haphazardly thrown on shirt to hide Hikaru’s wings. They still peek out, but at least at a glance as they’re riding by someone might think it a trick of the light.

As they ride, Yoshiki can’t help but think. The cliffside makes his gut churn, his feet inching ever closer.

Hikaru is different, now. Clingy. He touches Yoshiki without any hesitance, and Yoshiki finds himself doing the same. There’s something more comfortable between them now, and it all started when the wings sprouted.

Yoshiki bites his lip, bangs blown back by the wind as he rides further into the forest. The sun is properly setting now, casting long shadows.

Maybe he hates the difference because it’s change. Maybe he hates it because it’s nothing like what Yoshiki had with the Hikaru from Before.

Maybe he hates it because it reveals the change under his own skin.

Because he has changed. Yoshiki isn’t who he was the day he found out about Hikaru. Ever since then, day by day, he’s changed. And now here he is, someone who finds comfort in the monster.

He’s falling further into the comfort every day. He finds himself reaching for Hikaru’s wings before he even bares them after school. Finds himself smiling when Hikaru does something that his childhood friend never would.

Hikaru had asked him if he hated him. Yoshiki had said he didn’t. He doesn’t. He never would, not now, and the thought of it?

It scares him.

“This a good spot?” Hikaru asks, braking his bike and turning back to look at Yoshiki. He looks full of energy, practically vibrating in his seat as he grins Yoshiki’s way.

Yoshiki smiles weakly back, nodding. The forest is dark and vast in all directions. Nobody will see them here.

Nobody will see the kinds of things Yoshiki associates himself with, not here.

Yoshiki watches as Hikaru throws his shirt off, flexing his wings. The feathers are a bit rumpled from the ride but are still mostly intact thanks to Yoshiki’s earlier efforts. Hikaru shakes them off, fluffing up in an almost comical way as he does.

Yoshiki bites back a smile.

He looks beautiful like this, illuminated weakly by the sunset. His wings catch the light as he moves them, feathers shimmering orange. His eyes are lit up with excitement, hands in fists as he bounces on his heels.

This monster of his is excited to fly, and Yoshiki can’t help but think it’s cute. Even if, one second later, the feeling is soured by the knowledge that he’s endeared by a creature that’s killed. That’s hurt.

It’s fine. It’s his fault, too, for letting it happen. He’s a monster too.

It’s fine.

Yoshiki reaches up to grab the fragment of Hikaru’s true body that he keeps close. He rubs it with his thumb as Hikaru rambles about climbing a tree to get a good vantage point. He goes from tree to tree, trying to find one with good leverage.

“Jus’ don’t fall on your face,” Yoshiki says, as Hikaru starts attempting to climb.

Hikaru says something in response but it’s drowned out as he climbs, wings tucked close. Eventually he makes it to a branch relatively high, but still only about fifteen feet off the ground.

Yoshiki inches towards the base of the tree despite himself, ready to catch Hikaru if he falls.

“Get ready!” Hikaru calls out, grin large enough Yoshiki can see it from below.

Then, without waiting, Hikaru jumps.

Yoshiki expects more of a lead up to it, and so when it happens he yelps. He scrambles to catch Hikaru, heart in his throat.

Except he never has to.

Hikaru’s wings are massive and so they move almost sluggishly, displacing air with each movement. Yoshiki stares, mouth agape, as Hikaru tilts and stutters in the air. He screams all the while, not out of fear but of laughter, and wobbles precariously.

“W- Woah, oh, wow-!” Hikaru babbles, grinning as he almost tilts fully sideways. His wings stutter and then reorient themselves to catch him. “It’s workin’, it’s workin’! Yoshiki!”

Yoshiki stumbles, falling onto his ass as he cranes his neck to watch Hikaru. Hikaru is the opposite of graceful in the air, arms pinwheeling and wings faltering every other flap, but he… he’s in the air. He did it.

“You did it…” Yoshiki says, eyes wide. He can’t look away from him.

“I did it!” Hikaru parrots, flapping faster to ascend a bit. He hovers twenty feet off of the ground, slowly finding his rhythm. After only half a minute he starts to find his balance, looking more like he belongs in the air. “C’mon, join me!”

Yoshiki blinks, confused. Before he can process what Hikaru said, Hikaru starts awkwardly lowering himself towards the ground. He reaches towards Yoshiki like a hawk towards it’s prey, a sudden jerking movement that has Yoshiki ensnared before he can even think to run.

“W- Wait-“ Yoshiki says, but it’s too late. Hikaru is already trying to yank him upwards.

Yoshiki’s back is pressed to Hikaru’s chest, Hikaru’s arms locked around him. Wind blows his bangs violently into his eyes as Hikaru tries to tug him upwards, making small strained noises all the while. His wings flap faster and faster, louder and louder, and the most that happens is Yoshiki’s heels lift from the ground, leaving him on his toes.

“Hikaru-“ Yoshiki starts, trying to tell him it won’t work. It’s pointless. But before he can finish the thought Hikaru tilts too far to the left, yelps, and they’re on the ground.

It hurts. Yoshiki eats dirt, falling onto his side with a groan. He lays there like a rock, unmoving.

“Ugh…” Yoshiki says, sagging into the dirt. “That’ll teach ya to grab people without permission.”

Hikaru- who Yoshiki now registers is on top of him, when did that happen- laughs. His wings shake themselves off even as he stays where he is, half on top of Yoshiki and half sprawled in the grass.

“It’s fine, I’ll get ya next time,” Hikaru says. His lips are so close to Yoshiki’s ear that he shivers. Violently.

Yoshiki closes his eyes, wishing for death. Oh god, Hikaru definitely felt that. He definitely felt that, he definitely realized-

Yoshiki pushes Hikaru off of him with a huff, sitting up. He doesn’t meet his eyes, brushing dirt off of his shirt. The setting sun is almost completely gone, now, leaving a darkness that hides the way his ears burn bright pink.

Yoshiki fights to think of something, anything, that isn’t the way Hikaru was laid on top of him a second ago.

“Uh, uhm, I dunno if you’ll ever get me in the air,” Yoshiki says, wincing at the way it comes out. So awkward, so wrong. “I think with your wings ya got the hollow bones, so someone with the bulk of a human-“

Hikaru stands, one wing coming dangerously close to Yoshiki’s face. He flinches back to avoid it, startled into a glare. Hikaru just grins.

“Yeah, yeah, stop the nerd talk,” Hikaru says, “I’m bringin’ ya up there with me, you’ll see.”

“I don’t-“

“You’re comin’ with me.”

Yoshiki swallows. He can’t make out Hikaru’s expression, not in the darkness.

Hikaru reaches a hand down for Yoshiki to take. His wings stretch out to block what little Yoshiki can make out of the forest until the only thing he can see is Hikaru, Hikaru, only Hikaru. It’s dark.

Yoshiki takes his hand.

“M’kay,” he says, quietly. It feels wrong to say anything else.

He doesn’t have wings that’ll save him from the fall, but maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he doesn’t need them at all.