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Yoshiki was zoning out again. Was it to be attributed to the utter lack of sleep last night, the way he could not bring himself to take more than a bite of today’s breakfast (which has been lovingly prepared by his mother, and he did feel bad), or.. just the general way of things lately? He has no way of knowing.
Turning away from the window nearby and the bright rays of sunlight only obscured by his overgrown bangs, he steals a glance at Hikaru. His stomach feels tight and only clenches at its emptiness further as he realizes Hikaru was already looking at him.
Something inside Yoshiki stung; there was this otherworldly entity paying no attention to class, but it made sense; it was his first few months viewing the world, everything was new. Yoshiki has no such excuse, or so is he telling himself. Why is he comparing himself with Hikaru anyway? This is biology, his favorite class.
Yoshiki was the one Hikaru had spent the most time with though, and had more than enough space to observe him. His eyes seem always locked onto him with some almost mathematical precision. Like a surveillance camera or.. yeah, he is his prey, isn’t he. Yoshiki has to look away more often than not, his sweaty palms clenching at whatever at hand to ground himself. The sheer intensity of his gaze is boring through him as it always is now.
“Nee, Yoshiki,” he hears a barely audible whisper. Damn looking concentrated, he thinks.
“Yo-shi-kiiiii. Yer not foolin’ me.”
With a sigh, he turns around just barely enough to inconspicuously face Hikaru.
“Yeah?”
“Are ya feelin’ okay? You seem to be slouchin’ into yerself even more than usual. And yer soul-”
“Shush,” Yoshiki presses a finger to his own lips demonstratively. If he wasn’t doing the best before, now he really isn’t all calm and stomach-acheless. Well, shit.
“Ya can’t be sayin’ all that here and now.”
His stomach is recreationally torturing him for way too many reasons, and he can’t take his medicine without a breakfast, lest he wishes for his death to be slow and somewhat more painful.
Long term sleep deprivation has its side effects, if all the articles he had read about it had anything to say. ‘Humans,’ people, like me, Yoshiki had to remind himself, ‘may turn to those more primitive sorts of urges in these conditions. Nothin’ I should be botherin’ Hikaru with though.’ Not that he would ever go out of his way to nudge Hikaru to explore these sorts of feelings with him, anyway. For sure. He was an unknown entity, no matter how much research they did about his origin, and he took the corpse of his dead best friend.
Hikaru is not looking like a corpse in the slightest. Those impossible eyes are trained on him, not showing the slightest sign of rejection or disinterest. Their pale color of an early morning after dawn, the iris circled by the blue of deepest oceans in the midst of a storm. And the red pupils. ‘Despite lookin’ worried, he still manages to look at me as if I’m the lunch he’s so excited to have today.’ Hungry, starved. Thinking about it, Yoshiki hadn’t been paying him much attention today, coiled onto himself with shame, pain and god knows what.
The hand Hikaru had been propping his head up with in long lost boredom is now laying down on his desk, fidgeting with a pen, tendons shifting. A vein pops over a delicate bone, and Yoshiki distantly remembers stroking it that one time, trying to convince Hikaru of the impossible. Right, Hikaru might get too worried if he doesn’t say anything soon.
Hikaru, who has been staring intently at him this whole time, opens his mouth to say something again. Yoshiki shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
“Alright, I’ll talk to ya about this later, if ya’d please pretend to pay attention now.”
“But Yoshiki’s all I need to pay attention to! It’s not like I’d use this, ever,” Hikaru whines, but that ends up being the last of Yoshiki’s distractions, at least from Hikaru.
Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Their present curriculum centers on the human body, and today’s lesson was on the cardiovascular system. Yoshiki watches Maki eagerly volunteering to help the young teacher haul the large diagrams (including the heart one) back into the biology cabinet where it belongs. The big break has already started and his classmates are noisily gathering to compare lunches and dig in.
Yoshiki would never openly admit it, but something about the blood-pumping organ with years worth of tireless capacity on average fascinates him. It nourishes the body and keeps it warm and alive. Even upon injury it doesn’t stop its efforts, splattering the precious crimson resources out and away. Too much effort, too eager to please.
Hikaru’s blood stained face flashes before Yoshiki’s eyes. He takes a sharp breath. Hikaru, the eager, overly considerate, sweet one is openly staring at his him once again.
“Man, ya sure don’t look tha best,” he says skeptically.
“Thanks,” reacts Yoshiki dryly.
“Ya know I didn’t mean it that way,” he scowls, hands clenching against his sides.
So energetic. Hikaru turns around from his already standing position to search for something in his bag. With loud clatter he drops his lunchbox on Yoshiki’s desk and drags his chair close.
“So, what’s up?” Hikaru asks casually.
Yoshiki is doing his best at not either laying down on his desk face first or curling into a ball, so he opts for staring outside the window.
“Heyyyy Yoshiki. Earth to Yoshiki, hello?” Hikaru was already stuffing his mouth with his rice mixed with natto.
With a sigh, Yoshiki gives up.
“Well, ya know how I don’t sleep well? And I don’t feel like eatin’ either this mornin’.”
“Oh, is yer stomach actin’ up again?” Hikaru fiddled with his chopsticks, pointing them at Yoshiki’s middle.
“Somethin’ like that,” Yoshiki noticed a grain of rice stuck under the corner of Hikaru’s mouth. Against his better judgment (he swears it’s the collected three hours of sleep from last night), he carefully takes it (he feels his stomach leap downwards) and awkwardly keeps it in between his fingers, unsure of what to do. Hikaru eyes him curiously, but says nothing. Yoshiki’s stomach keeps on doing nervous flips.
Hikaru sighs exasperatedly, but there’s no real bite in it.
“Dude, I’m almost finished with mine and ya haven’t even started with yers. Pick it up or yer stomach’ll really die.”
Yoshiki thinks he might as well die alongside his ungrateful stomach, but he doesn’t say it, and wordlessly picks up his lunchbox to try to open it with his singular unoccupied hand. Hikaru looks at him with expectations, an unspoken ‘how in tha world are ya gonna eat like that?’
He lets his bangs fall over his eyes as he puts the stray grain of rice into his mouth. He’s doomed, he thinks as he feels his face unreasonably heat up. He’s doomed and hopes Hikaru doesn’t notice.
Having basically force-fed an uncooperative Yoshiki half of his lunch, Hikaru looks awfully pleased with himself. Yoshiki, on the other hand, has to admit that his stomach does hurt less now. Who would’ve thought.
Yoshiki halfway expects Hikaru to go running in the pursuit of something more entertaining, now that he’s convinced he managed to fix whatever was wrong with Yoshiki. On their way to school he was eagerly explaining how Asako and Yuuki promised to show him their new collectible stickers, to see if he’s interested in getting them too.
Yoshiki can’t imagine trying to concentrate for their final class of the day in the slightest. He opts for slumping his head down on the desk. It makes a loud thud.
He’d be wrong if he thought Hikaru was about to just leave him be though.
“Nee, Yoshiki,” he hears for the second time that day.
He reluctantly lifts his gaze. Hikaru is being illuminated by the natural outdoor light which passes through his light hair in a way that could be described as resembling of a halo. Huh. His eyes crinkle in the corners, pupils flashing a bright red as he grins. Yoshiki’s poor stomach has no chance of recovering.
“I was lookin’ at ya during biology cuz I do just like lookin’ at ya, but also, I am totally lost from whatever Ms Takahashi said and need help. Lend me a hand, will ya?” Hikaru grins, and throws him a peace sign.
Yoshiki’s heart throbs in tandem with his other unfortunate pained region.
“And what makes ya think I know it any better?”
“Weeeeell. Ya might’ve not been payin’ much attention now, but I saw yer sketches from tha other day.”
Right, his anatomical studies.. of the heart in particular. Yoshiki really isn’t sure why he’s been so obsessed with the organ (to the point of drawing it from every possible angle according to his online research), until he is. He must’ve been careless with his papers the last time Hikaru came to visit. Or maybe Hikaru used the opportunity when Yoshiki went to help his mother slice the watermelon. Either way, Yoshiki guesses there’s no point in hiding that now.
“Sure, I can probably handle the whole topic too,” he sighs. He couldn’t deny him if he tried.
“Yayy,” Hikaru chirps happily (‘a little too happily, perhaps,’ notes Yoshiki) and flings his forearms over Yoshiki’s shoulders for a few seconds before running off back to his desk.
Yoshiki has a strange feeling about this, but he brushes it off. He pops a painkiller out of its wrapper.
“I was wonderin’ if it wasn’t for tha best if we actually got to them drawings while ya’d explain,” says Hikaru, flinging the biology cabinet door open.
Most students have already left for home or extracurriculars, much the same as the teachers. The building was essentially empty, and the silence that stretched out over the hall was rather well suited for the soft yellow light illuminating the room. And surely enough, Maki just hung the posters the closest and most leisurely possible, on the abandoned board near the wall of the cramped room. The light has turned the complicated anatomical description lettering a warm shade of brown.
The heart burnt in shades of crimson.
“Ya sure ya don’t mind skipping yer soccer practice? I could explain it some other time, and elsewhere,” says Yoshiki, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. They’re not supposed to be here.
“Nah. They’ll do just fine without me, and I figured this could be nice for the both of us.”
Hikaru doesn’t elaborate further, instead just confidently waltzes in with a reluctant Yoshiki in tie.
Yoshiki fiddles with his hair, looking around anxiously. They really use this room for storing just whatever that’s not currently needed, huh. Besides the dimmed glass door as the primary source of light, there’s a barely visible window in the back of the room, blocked off by boxes of anatomical models of the tissues of plants and animals, and formaldehyde submerged specimens are carelessly stacked on a cupboard. There’s a container stuffed with folded up posters, probably the one where the cardiovascular system’s posters were supposed to be.
He can’t lie, he would love to look around some more, especially at the specimens. He can see some sort of a gigantic lizard.. He wonders just how Hikaru managed to figure out where the teacher went since he never volunteers to help himself.
Right, he’s supposed to tutor Hikaru. They also stuffed unused desks in here, on the opposite side of the room from where the board is. That looks.. dangerous to move. Whoever comes here after them might realize someone’s been snooping around if they do move them anyway. Yoshiki sighs and sits back against the semi-unoccupied desk the closest to the board.
“So, I guess we’d get a good look from over here-”
Hikaru nonchalantly shuts the door as fast as he opened it a minute ago. The dimmed glass on them tones down the golden light further, but the visibility is still good. This just makes the room look somewhat.. softer. Yoshiki distantly notes he could make a good photo shoot here for himself, perhaps with Hikaru as the subject. He and his true nature would be quite the combination with the gutted animals in large jars, with the human skeleton in the corner. They’re hiding in the closet with the skeleton now. Alone in school in a closed room where no one will bother to check on for hours on end. Yoshiki shakes his head, he’s here to extend Hikaru learning possibilities. Probably. He needs to focus on the task at hand.
Suddenly Hikaru is at his side again, swinging himself carelessly to sit down on the desk next to Yoshiki. They’re close. Yoshiki’s stomach churns. Not this again.
“Alright, so how does this thing work?” Hikaru asks with that damn smile, his eyes illuminated in that special way that’s only visible during this time of the day. Red. Like blood, actually.
Yoshiki focuses his eyes on the poster in front of them.
“Ya see, it’s actually for multiple things. Ya get nutrition from food, right?”
“Well, not me anyway,” Hikaru chirps. “Actually, not sure, because I normally still got all of Hikaru’s body on the inside. I don’t take up space, not like that.”
“..Either way, when humans eat, they do so to get what they need, like other creatures. Blood, the thing that carries all that stuff when ya get it outta food, is very important here. The cardiovascular system is for carryin’ blood.” He traces his finger over where the air passes over the human body diagram of the board for Hikaru to see.
“That’s why people get alarmed when it spills out.”
“Yeah.” Yoshiki remembers all the occasions on which Hikaru carelessly lost blood, and then carried on as if it meant nothing. That time Yoshiki stabbed him, and all he was worried about was Yoshiki’s distress. A pang of guilt. But does his body even need it anymore? What does the body live from if he doesn’t need food, too? Hikaru’s body?
“But that’s not all. Blood moves the fresh air ya get from breathin’ all across the body as well. It gets pumped everywhere. A-and,” he exhales shakily, “that’s where yer supposed to get bodily warmth from.”
He takes Hikaru, who’s been listening silently, by the wrist. His thumb finds the pulse point of his inner wrist. Yoshiki presses gently. It faintly flutters, just like the real thing.
“Didn’t forget to turn it on this time, did I?” Hikaru snickers.
“Focus,” mutters a flustered Yoshiki, waiting for Hikaru to stop squirming.
“There’re multiple points on the body where ya can check a human fer their pulse, where the arteries and veins and all are the closest to the surface.”
“It sounds loud sometimes, here,” Hikaru takes Yoshiki by the wrist himself and presses his palm to the pale of his throat. His motions are clumsy, and Yoshiki’s own heart is hammering, but he can still pick up on the way Hikaru’s heartbeat tangibly accelerates. “I can almost hear it.”
Yoshiki flinches away as if stung, folding his hands down in his lap, eyes obscured, cheeks burning. This small room is too stuffy.
“I see.”
“Yoshiki. If blood makes ya warm on the inside, and the real me is all slimy and cold and gross, do I like it so much when ya put yerself inside me cuz ya have blood?” Hikaru presses on.
“Ya have blood too. We just talked about it,” Yoshiki keeps his eyes trained on his folded hands.
“I think it’s different. Also,” Yoshiki can at first feel something tentatively hovering over the hair covering his ear before it reaches above his eyes and tucks his bangs behind the shell. He feels the contrast of Hikaru’s cool fingers against his burning ear too strongly. They leave torturously slowly. His eyes dart to look at Hikaru, who was now smiling fondly, without attempting to fully turn his face towards him.
“When ya get all red like this, is it blood too?”
Something tells Yoshiki, once again, that Hikaru is probably not as clueless about all this as he says he is, at least not intuitively. Hell, if he wasn’t so good at observation of the ‘standard’ human behavior, he would have way more trouble convincing even their closest friends he’s.. still him. Still human. Yoshiki pushes his suspicions down by force.
“..I dunno what yer talkin’ about,” he mutters under his breath. He should turn this conversation elsewhere.
“Awww, Yoshiki’s so shy! No need, it’s just ya and me,” Hikaru inches somewhat closer, his whole body turned towards him. His chest dangerously close. Cheerful laughter escapes him.
“Um,” Yoshiki tries. “So as I said, the main point is transportin’ blood. Ya get that by connectin’ the heart to arteries, veins and capillaries. The arteries are fer-”
“The heart, yer favorite.”
Yoshiki uselessly points at the heart diagram. “Yes. It’s a tireless muscle made up of tissue that resembles the will-controlled muscle by structure, but humans can’t control it.”
‘If I could, I would mine right now. And ya obviously can, re-animatin’ him for me. Producin’ his blood in your bone marrow. Nurturing his organs, yer body. The gentle caress of yer blood on my shirt. I wonder if your heart beats, even when ya think nobody’s lookin’. Is it beatin’ right now?’
“Do ya mind if I give a listen?” Hikaru asks casually, pointing at Yoshiki’s chest. It hits him once again, that he just doesn’t know what he does to him. His gut feels terribly warm.
“Listen to what?” Yoshiki asks dumbly, slurring over the words slowly.
“To yer heart, to check how it’s doin’. Whether what I’m doin’ is right.” He pauses. “I read it can be heard by putting yer head on someone’s chest,” he shields his mouth as if he’s telling Yoshiki a dirty secret.
“That’s it, you do know how these things work, don’t ya?!” Yoshiki yells out halfway in frustration, halfway in embarrassment.
“I really don’t, I think. It really does feel like teach is just yammerin’ her head off while Yoshiki’s.. goin’ through the Seven Rings of Hell?”
At least he paid attention in some of his classes.
“Either way, believe me, Yoshiki. And I love listenin’ to you talk and explain me things. And even yer naggin’ can be fun sometimes. Ya get so riled up, haha.”
“You really do enjoy my sufferin’, huh,” mutters Yoshiki under his breath. More loudly, “I guess it won’t hurt to try.”
“Yayyy!” Hikaru pumps a fist in the air, giddy. Yoshiki finds it adorable, says nothing.
He sits back in a more stable manner, and adjusts his spine, which he has been folding into itself, with a loud series of cracks, so that he sits somewhat straight. He positions his arms by his sides, immediately regretting that while this does stabilize him, it also cancels the option of tossing his head downwards to cover his face, lest he wanted to hit Hikaru, who obviously wanted to be there eventually.
“Alright.” His voice comes out sounding somewhat strained. “Ya can lean in if you’d like.”
“O-okay,” mutters Hikaru with a small smile. He ducks his head and moves closer, arms flexing on the edge of the desk to scoot closer, close enough that their thighs are pressed against each other.
Yoshiki tries not to think.
Hikaru shifts to press the side of his head against Yoshiki’s chest. He fights to not move, and more against his will, and definitely against his better judgment, he unsticks his eyes from the ceiling to land them on Hikaru, who is now comfortably settled against him. Actually, Hikaru snaked his fingers against his lower thigh for further support. It almost burns at the point of contact. Yoshiki’s stomach burns. He feels as if he’s experiencing internal tremors. Hikaru’s hair looks soft.
“It’s so fast. Are ya sure it’s meant to be this way?” Hikaru asks, and Yoshiki can practically hear him smirking. That bastard. He’s totally fucking with him.
“Uhhhh. Stop that,” Yoshiki tries weakly, and does what he does automatically whenever he attempts to shut Hikaru up or distract him – he tousles his hair. It is soft. ‘A horrible miscalculation,’ Yoshiki thinks, ‘horrible,’ because now he can feel Hikaru’s nose pressing against his ribs as well, and how his shoulders shift with laughter. Anxiety with something other. Something he dares name only past midnight after hours of lying still to no avail. Like last night, or more specifically today.
“Did yer stomach jus shift? Hehe.”
“Stomachs don’t do that,” Yoshiki huffs out in what he hopes is more annoyance than anticipation of.. something. He can’t be sure. He’s more embarrassed about how Hikaru can apparently hear more organs than just his crazy heart.
Yoshiki thinks his chest might burst if this goes on for any longer, and so he mutters a quick “that’s enough” and gently wrestles an uncooperative Hikaru away from his chest by his head, accompanied by a series of “hey, hey, where’s da rush?”
Once separated (but still sitting thigh to thigh), Yoshiki lets himself emit a long exhale as he tries to somewhat calm down and remember where he left off in his lecture. It’s all useless now, but he tries his best to give Hikaru a semblance of human normalcy.
“Okay, so the average heartbeat for the calm and relaxed person should be-”
“Yoshiki,” Hikaru interrupts him, obviously not bothering to even pretend he cared about what numbers Yoshiki had to say, and with intense focus on the task at hand, “do ya wanna listen to mine?”
“..What.”
“Aw, don’t be so suspicious! I think it’s only fair after you let me listen to yers. And we can draw conclusions or whatever else scientific crap ya like outta that!”
“But don’t ya command it and how it works? What’s useful about that?”
“No, why would I? It’s just on now. And yer trying way too hard to reason with this,” Hikaru was getting impatient. “I know yer totally into this, so why fight it?”
“I’m not some sorta.. pervert,” he mutters, trying to convince more himself than Hikaru.
“Ya might as well be, nobody’s around to judge ya! You know I wouldn’t,” Hikaru throws Yoshiki another disarming smile.
“Now come on!” says Hikaru as he shoves Yoshiki’s head downwards with some force. Yoshiki yelps, and his stomach drops. He’s developing a peptic ulcer for sure.
They stay frozen like that for a second, neither Yoshiki moving close enough for a hearing distance, nor moving away. Then, slowly, unsurely, Yoshiki gives up, and then he hears it. It’s hammering too? He more feels than hears Hikaru chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest, tickling Yoshiki. Hikaru clumsily lifts the hand that’s been uselessly limp by his side, and with a very questioning motion places his hand on the outer side of Yoshiki’s head, caging him in. His heartbeat does an irregular jump, and Yoshiki is in awe. Why is Hikaru reacting in this way? He initiated this, and he has no reason to be afraid. Is he nervous? Again, he asked for it. He downright forced Yoshiki to accept the offer. Is he still somehow making him uncomfortable?
Should he be able to react in this way in the first place? Yoshiki knows, he spent way too many sleepless nights trying to detangle the mess that is the border between the.. other Hikaru, and this one. Hikaru, Yoshiki’s childhood best friend, the one Yoshiki is beyond fond of. Yoshiki knows it’s wrong, he knows this damn village would eat him alive, but no matter what, he couldn’t take it. He could never fully repress what he felt, and the more physical evidence of it. He knows for sure that what he felt for him is the impure sort of feelings, and he’s not sure where the feelings for Hikaru end and the feelings for this.. entity begin. Hikaru is dead. Dead, and he lost him, never getting to say anything. Now he’s stuck with this conflict, beyond the average struggle of human hate of the unknown. Yoshiki is just huddled up with a terrifying entity which wishes no more than to consume his soul as is its rightful inclination. Was that why it asked to get closer to his chest? To consume him, or at least feel close enough to feasting?
Yoshiki shudders.
But he’s shaking now. He’s awkwardly threading his fingers through Yoshiki’s hair, finishing each pull with a gentle pat. So sweet. So gentle and harmless. His ‘heart’ sings a song of waters in the shallow river near Kubitachi, it flutters like a bird in a cage.
It feels good. Maybe too good, he’s getting dizzy.
“Yoshikiiii,” there’s a low whine rumbling through Hikaru’s throat, and Yoshiki shivers again.
Bum bum bum bum bum.
“Yer soul is so bright. I think I fixed ya.”
Yoshiki twists his neck just barely enough to see his expression. Eternally fond, and more than a little out of it. They make eye contact, and Yoshiki is burning up even more. His face is on fire.
“Mmm.”
Bum bum bum bum bum.
The inhuman, and his human heart. He has to have it somewhere in there. It beats for him. Yoshiki thinks he’s going crazy, all his pain and self-restraint forgotten. They’re alone, they can have this much.
Hikaru, as if hearing his thoughts, prepares to speak again. He pulls at Yoshiki’s scalp a little harder than previously, and Yoshiki has to hold back from making a sound. He’s already completely limp against Hikaru’s chest anyway.
Hikaru’s voice is a little rough around the edges, as if his true form was losing its grip on Hikaru’s body.
“Yoshiki,” he starts, barely audibly, his whisper somewhat broken.
“Mmm?” Yoshiki half-opens his eyes, lazy, high.
“This is supposed to be an anatomy lesson,” Hikaru chuckles breathlessly.
“It’s yer fault,” grumbles Yoshiki. His hair gets tugged on again. And again.
Bum bum bum bum bum.
“Do ya wanna touch it?”
Yoshiki partially snaps out of his trance.
“What? Touch what?”
“Yer all cuddled up to it. Ya must’ve loved the idea of his heart,” Hikaru sounds a little sad.
“So if ya wanna, ya can. I can make it physical for you, when ya enter.”
Yoshiki’s mind is racing. Hikaru wants him inside, which is actually not all that surprising, considering he probably thinks of it as of his favorite activity. He seems to really enjoy the feeling of Yoshiki, and now they’ve been really close for what could’ve been more than ten minutes at this point. Still dangerous, still not recommended. Much like a cuddling session of two boys in a school cabinet. Unless..
“Ya can probably explain to me the anatomy better that way too,” Hikaru prods.
“Ya know where everythin’ is anyway, yer good.”
Bum bum bum bum bum.
“Yeah, I probably can.” God, what is he saying now? Is he going to indulge Hikaru’s random dangerous whims? No, he knows, he wants it himself. This whole day he’s been trying to fight off what he so desperately craved, and he caved under the slightest push from Hikaru. And Hikaru, for all his inhumanity and carelessness, understands him scarily well at times. Hikaru might be doing this because he thinks Yoshiki needs it. And he also wants to be touched, sure.
Yoshiki is realistically too blissed out at this point to really retaliate. And Hikaru is cleverly giving him a way out too, suggesting they label it as ‘learning’ without trying to convince Yoshiki through the rational argument of his body obviously yearning for him. Yoshiki understands. He really did underestimate Hikaru’s ability to see into that filthy selfish soul of his he’s so obsessed with for some unknown reason. They both want it, Rie’s warnings be damned. It all be damned. And he’d touch Hikaru’s heart.
Yoshiki decides he’ll play along, to preserve some of his remaining dignity.
“..Yeah, um, let’s do that.”
Hikaru patiently waited for him to stop spiraling, Yoshiki guesses. Now he’s carefully pulling him up by his shoulders, sighing at the loss of warmth on his chest. He momentarily cradles Yoshiki’s face in his hands, maybe to look for any sign of discomfort or Yoshiki forcing himself (?), but Yoshiki avoids the too intense eye contact after ten seconds or so at best, to which Hikaru lets out a breathy laugh and guides Yoshiki’s head to rest on his shoulder.
“Okay, Mr professor, care ta help me get this off so we can get to the lesson?” he teases, to which Yoshiki only mutters a “stoop,” and forces himself to actually sit up.
Hikaru watches proudly as a very bashful Yoshiki with bangs in his eyes goes out of his way to unbutton his shirt all the way down to his bellybutton, where he abruptly stops and hovers his hands in the air uselessly as if burnt.
Hikaru narrows his eyes skeptically.
He then proceeds to basically rip the remaining buttons apart, discard his shirt from his shoulders and throw it on the dusty pile of desks behind them. Equipment wise, Yoshiki worries they might not get back to that heart diagram today.
“Well, Yoo-shiii-kiii,” he smiles, and pushes Yoshiki’s bangs out of his left eye while his left hand goes to grab Yoshiki’s wrist.
“Explain them things to me.” And he pushes Yoshiki’s hand towards his sternum.
Yoshiki huffs out the little air his shallow breaths managed to get him, composing himself.
“Alright, didn’t know ya were such a studious guy. Tryin’ to make mama proud?”
“Don’t bring Hikaru’s mama into this-”
Hikaru would continue his petty arguing, but about that time Yoshiki had already built up enough courage to do something, and that something was deliberately and lightly touching his stomach.
“Uh..”
“So, fer anatomy practice.” Yoshiki felt his face being hotter than probably the scorching pavement outside, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. The skin there is as warm as he remembers, which is probably about to be contrasted rather soon. His fingertips brush against the invisible short hairs on Hikaru’s stomach. Hikaru shivers.
“Openin’ up? Ready, Yoshiki..?” he rasps.
Yoshiki’s brain is short-circuiting, his stomach in a coil, but he manages a “yeah.”
He could never get familiar with Hikaru’s insides, no matter how many near death, or near something-else-he’d-rather-not-name experiences he’s had with them. This time the tendrils are impatient, and the moment Hikaru’s lower stomach opens vertically even in the slightest, they snake out and around Yoshiki’s fingers like there’s no tomorrow. Hikaru’s breathing is heavy, as if he’s still constricting himself still, and to Yoshiki’s distant horror, he’s heavy breathing himself.
Amidst the hot puffs of air between them, Hikaru now slightly leaning back, Yoshiki tries to compose himself. Anatomy practice time.
Tendrils up to his wrist now, he gingerly runs his fingers over the.. surface of something. When Hikaru said he’d show him his heart, Yoshiki hadn’t expected his insides to be gone, exactly. A newfound wave of unease washes over him.
“What’s this?” he fights to make eye contact with a unashamedly panting Hikaru, eyebrows furrowing. Yoshiki could sign up for a “ripest tomato” competition and win by a landslide.
“I told ya this’d be educational,” Hikaru flashes him a delirious grin and tries to lift one of his famous peace signs, only to immediately drop the hand back to support himself. The fractals snake further up Yoshiki’s arm.. Hikaru’s lips are shiny.
“Ya can have ‘em alllllll. So which one is that?”
Yoshiki supposes his external muscles are still gone though, even now. Morbid. Yoshiki shifts his legs uncomfortably.
“So,” Yoshiki starts shakily, but with unwavering professionalism (or so he tells himself), “given the placement, this could be the liver. Or..”
Yoshiki slides his hand further in with a wet squelch, now his entire fingers disappearing into the cavity. (He has to shift his legs again.) Petting the organ some more, it’s not exactly as smooth as he’d imagine it to be. Hikaru gasps. Yoshiki didn’t know internal organs were so sensitive.
“This could actually be yer stomach. Upwards it’s smoother and larger, and that’d be the liver.”
“Hah. If that were Yoshiki’s stomach, we could just fix it like that, nah?” he laughs breathlessly.
“Give it a squeeze, won’t ya?”
“..Will ya be okay?”
“Yeah. You can’t really hurt somethin’ like me, Yoshiki.”
Sliding his fingers between what is presumably Hikaru’s liver and stomach, he rubs at it before tentatively giving it a light squeeze. Hikaru lets out an unholy “ahhh” and Yoshiki thinks he might die.
“This is where you digest the most of yer food,” he offers weakly. Why does he try to keep this a certain way again?
“Okay,” says Yoshiki, ears burning when he gets no coherent response, “movin’ on.”
He dips his hand slightly outside, to which tendrils rush further up his wrist, restricting his movement. He weakly chuckles; he wouldn’t be running now, silly Hikaru. The slit welcomes his upwards directed intrusion as he loses no opportunity to savor the torturously slow drag of his fingers along Hikaru’s liver. It’s all so wet and slippery and definitely colder than a living human body should be. ‘I’m goin’ to hell,’ Yoshiki thinks as Hikaru once again whines before biting his lips shut. Some common courtesy arrived, Yoshiki guesses, and feels somewhat at loss.
His xiphoid process throbbing in Yoshiki’s breast pocket does not block the way when they with great shared effort arrive near Hikaru’s ribcage.
“These are yer ribs,” says Yoshiki uselessly as he gently rubs at the bone. Hikaru’s breath hitches and he can feel it in the tremor under his fingers. He doesn’t manage to stop himself from hooking a finger around one or two. No muscle there either.
“Oh yeah?” Yoshiki suspects he’s not listening, sweat adorned chest heaving, and when Yoshiki lifts his gaze from it, Hikaru’s eyes are unblinkingly staring into his face, half-lidded, shining a starved shade of crimson. He’s rosy everywhere.
The eye contact is too intense. “We’d better go from the below though, since we have ‘em here.”
Yoshiki retracts his fingers slightly again, and slides them above the liver, only to be met with resistance from there.
“Here ya have yer diaphragm, which is fer helpin’ you breathe,”
Hikaru looks at his in mock questioning despite panting heavily. He’s demonstrating that ability perfectly right now.
“Go through it,” he says, narrowing his eyes further at just the thought.
“What.” Yoshiki snaps out of his trance momentarily.
“I don’t wanna hurt ya.”
“Pshhhh,” Hikaru smiles at him lazily, looking thoroughly messed up, “I’m askin’ ya, plus it ain’t nothin’ I can’t heal in a second. Show me what ya’ve got.”
Yoshiki furrows his brow and breaks eye contact, considering. What the hell is this situation? How did he get here again?
“Yoshikiiiiiii.” Hikaru’s hand lifts to cup Yoshiki’s cheek, his thumb stroking his cheekbone tenderly. Yoshiki’s breath hitches.
“Yoshiki. Give me what I want. I’ll let ya touch it fer that.”
‘He’s too close,’ Yoshiki thinks deliriously.
Hikaru tsks impatiently, grabs Yoshiki by the wrist and yanks his hand out of his slit, to which Yoshiki yelps in surprise.
“Alright, guy,” Hikaru huffs, “I can tell yer squirmin’ anyway, so sit down properly.”
With his inhuman strength, Hikaru picks Yoshiki up from his side like a sack of potatoes by the waist and swings him sitting flush into his lap, legs spread around Hikaru’s waist before he gets to even yell out in retaliation. As if ignorant to his anguish, Hikaru presses Yoshiki closer to his middle with a firm palm on the small of his back.
“There ya go,” he grins, and Yoshiki swears he knows. Yoshiki’s brain is a mush, his lower stomach is on fire and he regrets having been born with the way his hips itch to move. His mouth helplessly hangs open in silent horror as he watches Hikaru’s chest split once again, this time the tendrils sneaking out themselves to grab him by his wrist and slip his hand back near his diaphragm as he only manages confused noises from the back of his throat.
“Now get on with it. Yoshiki. Yoshiki, you up?”
‘I certainly am up,’ Yoshiki thinks as he groans in frustration.
“Whatever. Just heal it back, ‘kay?”
“’You’ve got it,” Hikaru gives him his most disarming smile. He’s going to be the death of him, really.
Yoshiki tries to focus again. Hikaru’s fractals are now only swirling around his hand, letting him do the dirty job of damaging his best friend’s corpse. Yoshiki thinks he’s be more worried about it hadn’t he been feeling as if intoxicated for the last forty minutes at least, and also manhandled into this position. Nevermind that. He prods at the once again heaving muscle. It’s smooth, but feels delicate. He pokes it with a finger experimentally, and when Hikaru once again nods approvingly, he pushes on.
It must feel good to him, because Hikaru starts whispering Yoshiki’s name as if delirious. Yoshiki swallows heavily. He pushes more and feels the tissue’s resistance weakening.
“Yoshiki Yoshiki Yoshiki Yoshiki YoshikiYoshiki…”
The barrier breaks, and Yoshiki’s hand hits the more solid wall of a lung.
Hikaru whines Yoshiki’s name throughout it.
“These are lungs,” blabbers Yoshiki as Hikaru presses his ass closer to his own body and hugs his head against his shoulder while panting heavily. Obscene. This is obscene. Yoshiki’s pants are on, yet he feels like they might as well not be with the way he’s burning up.
“I told ya this weakenin’ you did might not be so good-”
“Ssssshut up.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m havin’ the time of my life. Or death. Or whatever I have. Go fer it.”
“Yeah.”
Yoshiki shifts slightly as to angle his arm for a better access and slides his hand deeper towards Hikaru’s left lung’s cavity. His arm is now uncomfortably twisted as to not compress Hikaru’s lungs too much, which is beautifully parallel with his now unhideable hard-on, which is becoming a more pressing issue.
Having lost his sight to Hikaru’s shoulder (while getting sporadic blissed out pets on the back of his head), Yoshiki finally reaches his destination, and grasps Hikaru’s wild heart.
It flutters, and it’s sticky yet slimy, smooth yet contoured with many coronary arteries. Hikaru’s heart. As if sensing his tactile interest, Hikaru’s heart slows down, almost suggesting he takes a feel around.
“Huh,” escapes Yoshiki.
“Yeah, slowed it down for ya. Move it, see for yerself,” Hikaru whispers with a hint of a smile.
“Are ya gonna be okay?” Yoshiki worries.
“Yeah, well, now we can see what it does, no?” A condescending pat on the head.
“Whaddya feel?” shoots Hikaru impatiently.
Yoshiki can’t believe that despite all the panting, Hikaru turns out to be the more diligent one when it comes to pretending they’re still doing this.. as if Hikaru’s going to need anything he tells him right now for anything anyway.
Yoshiki’s laugh at the absurdity of it all gets choked down when he tries to sit more comfortably for thinking and instead just rubs himself by an accident. Alright, no moving.
“So,” he caresses the part of the surface where there are yet no arteries or veins attached, “this part is mostly just the arteries to sustain yer heart, at least on the outside. It works very hard to get all that blood places, but it actually needs it too.”
“Uh huh,” Hikaru mutters unintelligibly.
Yoshiki experimentally strokes the surface before dipping his fingers lower to touch Hikaru’s heart from the apex. ‘I have no right to do this. He gets nothin’ from it,’ Yoshiki spares half a mind to wallow in awareness of cold, harsh reality. Hikaru’s heart is warmer.
‘Just feelin’ up his heart. Hikaru’s heart. Have I always wanted this? How deprived is this? He’s even making it slow down, what if it hurts him?’
Yoshiki suppresses a bitter laugh.
“Sorry,” Yoshiki mutters under his breath, crazed, as he slowly spreads his bunched fingers from the tip upwards, upwards, all the way to the top of Hikaru’s heart where the blood vessels are attached.
“What’re ya- ah- sorry for?” comes a choked reply as Hikaru is once again losing his control over the heartbeat’s pace.
The heart is convulsing in Yoshiki’s hand at a speed he can no longer count, much like a bird that’s been caged too long, too neglected, and is now struggling to break free from its prison’s narrow walls. Yoshiki’s hand is now the cage, and he considers how easy it would be to set it completely free. ‘My canary in a mine shaft of impurities, dyin’, dead.’
The cage is hung on a pretty string.
“This one,” Yoshiki sticks his index finger’s tip in the space between, drags it over the thinner one’s surface, “is the superior vena cava. Blood enters from there, mainly.”
Hikaru makes an otherworldly humming sound. Yoshiki fights for composure.
“T-then, it goes into the right atrium-” His finger slides lower.
“Show me,” rasps Hikaru, hugging Yoshiki impossibly tighter.
“Show you?” Yoshiki exhales in confusion.
“Tear it off. I know ya want to.”
The cage is hung on a pretty string. The bird inside tells Yoshiki it wants to fly. It’s banging its wings against the bars of its enclosure, threatening to hurt itself. Yoshiki loves the bird dearly, and he knows he could never deny him anything. The raw burning red confines are what’s left of an almost intangible sense of attachment to the cage, to the host. Yoshiki loves Hikaru dearly, and he loves the bird, the parasite. Well, the bird just wants to fly too, and Yoshiki could never ever deny it anything it wants. He’s lost his mind, his composure. He wants to stick his fingers into the deepest caverns of his dead best friend’s heart, and he’s going to do it in the hawk’s embrace.
Yoshiki nods. “Yes. I.. want to,”
“Knew it,” comes a blissed out laugh.
Yoshiki doesn’t stop to think about how visible his want must be if Hikaru can tell what he’s thinking right here, while having his organs groped mercilessly. He, however, does stop for a moment to realize just how much he’s shaking. Hikaru’s shoulder is now not only damp from sweat, but could have just been submerged in water mere seconds ago.
“Yoshiki,” Hikaru says softly, contrasting his abused heart, and Yoshiki can feel fingers carding though his hair again, so gently, so soothingly, before hands cup the sides of his face and drag it upwards, leaving his fingers in to continue embracing his pulsating heart.
His eyes sting, and upon opening them, Yoshiki notices the room has gone darker, now illuminated in a dim orange light bordering on a shade of bloody red. It feels almost more sacred to see Hikaru like this, in this light, trusting him with his body, throwing nothing short of bedroom eyes on him, and Yoshiki would be convinced they’re just normal teenagers messing around somewhere private were it not for the faint smell of evaporating formaldehyde and.. Yoshiki’s hand in his chest cavity. They have their own thing, Yoshiki supposes. Hikaru’s heart is still hammering in his hold, but Hikaru is patient, approaching Yoshiki and his fear thoughtfully. What a monster he is.
Hikaru’s face is now dangerously close, and Yoshiki feels his abused stomach twist again and holds his breath, only for Hikaru to narrowly miss him and lick up his cheek for the shredded tears.
Yoshiki lets out a startled noise and jumps.
Hikaru holds him in place and laps up Yoshiki’s face clean. When he pulls away, a sly smirk is spread on his lips. Yoshiki keeps on oscillating between holding eye contact with a disapproving frown and glancing down on them.
“Sal-ty,” Hikaru comments, evidently satisfied with himself, enunciating each syllable clearly while a dumbfounded Yoshiki stares at him with his mouth hanging open.
“What’re ya gawkin’ at, were ya expectin’ a kiss or somethin’?” he snickers at Yoshiki’s expense, who is reminded the harsh way that this guy still utilizes Hikaru’s literal braincells.
“Well, no!” he bursts out in embarrassment. “Pardon a guy for assumin’ things after ya coerce him into stickin’ a hand into you for the nth time and touchin’ most of yer organs, won’t ya?!”
“So romantic, aren’t I,” Hikaru purrs, patting Yoshiki’s sore forearm. “Well, ya liked it.”
“I can be straight up outta here, learn what ya’ve got by yerself!” he braces his legs for movement before hands grab at his ass and press him right back and have his painfully hard dick scream in protest.
“Yoshikiii, ya know I’m just messin’ with you,” Hikaru settles his hands on his hips while trying to rub soothing circles into them. He really doesn’t get what he’s doing to him fully, huh. Yoshiki’s eye twitches.
“Here, I propose we do both, to calm yer nerves,” he says as if discussing tomorrow’s lunchbox contents. Yoshiki, were he not used to this treatment, would’ve been in emotional pain.
But this is hard to come by, given Hikaru’s inhuman nature, and Yoshiki is aching for this and for finishing his ‘lecture,’ morals be damned.
“Yoshiki is down baddd,” Hikaru snickers with narrowed eyes while putting his arms around Yoshiki’s shoulders to drag him closer.
Yoshiki, unimpressed, snakes his free arm around Hikaru’s ribcage. “Shut it,” he mutters with no real bite.
Hikaru finally somewhat relaxes his face before pursing his lips the slightest bit and pressing them against Yoshiki’s. They’re as soft as usual, as rare as moments like this might be, Yoshiki remembers them well. The further press that follows is Yoshiki’s everything.
Having been staring into Hikaru’s half-lidded eyes, he lets himself close his and revel in the overwhelming sensation. Hikaru hugs him closer, pressing their chests flush together. Yoshiki’s hand spasms and very literally tucks at Hikaru’s heart, to which Hikaru opens his mouth with a whine.
Yoshiki uses this opportunity to nervously lick into his mouth, to which Hikaru eagerly responds. Not wanting to waste any more time, Yoshiki decides to screw it and obey Hikaru’s earlier instructions by once again finding the blood vessels on the top of Hikaru’s heart, pushing his fingers between them and tugging lightly. Hikaru lets out more noise and nips at Yoshiki’s bottom lip with his snaggletooth enthusiastically.
Yoshiki, panting openmouthedly, finds the right vein again and jabs into it with his fingernail while Hikaru’s heart thrashes about violently. After prodding some more, he feels the surface break and gush out Hikaru’s warm blood. Yoshiki shudders as it covers his fingers. With haste, he jams his index finger into the hole.
“This,” he gasps into Hikaru’s open mouth “is the right atrium, where ya get yer deoxygenized blood into.”
“Okay,” Hikaru somehow manages to say. His eyes are shut with what could only be describes as bliss, his face thoroughly flushed and open. Yoshiki notes that the now moonlight makes his hair look surreal. Hikaru is the sun, but he’s also very moonlike.
“Through this,” Yoshiki blabbers on, mercilessly penetrating through Hikaru’s tricuspid valve with two fingers now while brushing their lips together, “it gets to the right ventricle.”
Everything is a little too much. From Hikaru somehow still breathing hardly to the warm liquid spreading further and spilling out on Yoshiki’s shirt to Hikaru’s tendrils having covered the entirety of Yoshiki’s arm at this point, Yoshiki wonders how long he’ll last without doubling over and being utterly uneducational. There’s no longer space for embarrassment, he concludes at last after Hikaru groans exceptionally loudly again.
Yoshiki curves his fingers upwards as Hikaru whines his name.
“Through here tha blood passes to leave into yer lungs to get fresh air.”
“Mhm,” Hikaru lets out with obviously great effort as he rocks them back and forth.
Yoshiki, for more his own delirious curiosity than anything else forces his hand deeper until he can divide his fingers into both arteries. The world is spinning. Hikaru suddenly pulls backwards as Yoshiki continues to move his wrist inside, and then immediately slams himself into leaning over Yoshiki’s shoulder, gripping him by his shoulder blades.
Hikaru’s tendrils expand and spasm and Yoshiki’s vision whites out as a result of Hikaru sending whatever the hell into his bloodstream while Hikaru shakes in his arms.
“Hikaru?” asks Yoshiki, voice thick, laced with suspicion of what that was, but worried still.
“Yoshiki,” Hikaru gasps, breathing hard. He really is a miracle.
“’M fine,” he mutters before collecting himself the slightest and dragging his nails down Yoshiki’s back, effectively sending shivers down his spine before unceremoniously shoving his hand down Yoshiki’s pants (despite the belt) and tugging once or twice.
“Uhhhhhhhh,” Yoshiki lets out a groan. “D’ya have to embarrass me?”
“Not my fault yer over in a second,” he laughs tiredly before retracting his hand and using it to instead drag Yoshiki’s hand out of his body and closing up the slit. Back to his usual self, Yoshiki guesses.
“Hey,” says Hikaru before giving him a lazy peck on the lips. “Thanks, Yoshiki. Wouldn’t know what to do without ya.”
“Sure,” Yoshiki snorts. Hikaru tiredly falls back, where there are luckily no cramped chairs to stop him. A silence stretches while Yoshiki stares him down from his rightful position on his lap.
“..Didn’t get to the aorta,” Hikaru whines dramatically.
‘Liar,’ thinks Yoshiki with a fond smile on his face.
He lowers himself onto his elbow so that he can stay chest to chest with Hikaru without fully smothering him just yet, and proceeds to ruffle Hikaru’s hair affectionately.