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Vivid pinks, bright oranges, and deep blues paint the ocean, and the late afternoon sky hastily wraps up her lesson on watercoloring. At the shore, standing under wet sand feels good on bare feet, the waves ankle-high; pulling bits of sand, pebbles, and shell pieces from underneath. Ebbing and flowing—a feeling of being dragged back and forth, even while standing in place. Frigid water becomes more bearable with each step into the deepening depths. Just step into the ocean and be washed away by the ocean's current, the way crabs often found here on the beach do.
A sea creature lost on land, desperate to find a better place than this.
You could run away and start fresh in Tokyo, but then what?
Escalated spatters of rain on his bedroom window stirred Yoshiki awake, although it didn't completely separate him from the dream he was having. He noticed one of his bruises lightly throbbing. None of the ones on his arm, but one of many love bites Hikaru gave him on his neck, which was still damp from Hikaru's spit, not two hours ago.
Everything around them should've been pitch black—even the moon outside had been blotted out by the storm clouds. But his eyes had adjusted to the dark all around them, making it easy for him to make out Hikaru's silhouette wrapped around the other half of the blanket they were sharing. Hikaru himself seemed to be asleep on Yoshiki's chest, and he was holding the stuffed rhinoceros beetle larva close between them—it was something Yoshiki had got as a gift for his sister Kaoru four years ago. But she didn't much care for the beetle grub plushie, so he ended up keeping it for himself.
The two boys had been sharing earbuds for Yoshiki's Discman, which played a CD with no lyrics on it. He hit the play button again and laid back down again as the first droning tune faded in. He didn't let go of Hikaru, holding him close, and glanced down at the time on Hikaru's wristwatch.
1:49.
I wonder if we'll need to skip school again later?
"Did he used to listen to this too?"
Yoshiki woke up with a start. "Shit! Ah, yer still awake?"
"Yeah," Hikaru grinned, amused by Yoshiki's being spooked, then repeating the question, "was jus' wonderin' if Hikaru, y'know, d'he like the kinda stuff you always listen to? Like this?" He was acknowledging the Discman.
"Naw," said Yoshiki, closing his eyes again, "Hikaru didn't care much for it, I don't think." Honestly, he didn't know anyone who did except himself.
"Well, I like it," said Hikaru.
"Yeah, but ya like everythin' ya hear."
"Ain't nothin' with that, is there?"
"I… guess not." Yoshiki ran lackadaisical fingers through Hikaru's snow white hair. As he held Hikaru close to him, he has a subconscious hope that he would feel a rhythmic heartbeat against him, though it was futile.
"Y'know, it's funny," said Hikaru, eyes closed, "I know these songs' ain't s'posed to sound happy and all. But I don't feel that way 'bout them, know what I mean?"
Yoshiki nodded. Although it was dark, he could see a ghost reflection of himself in the window that made the other primrose-colored spots on his shoulders more noticeable. But those could be covered up. The one on his neck, not so much. It was too early in the year for turtleneck sweaters… not that he would ever wear one.
I can’t believe we actually did this. How was Rie gonna react once she found out? And she would, eventually, even if Yoshiki never said a word about it—she had a sixth sense that would tell her something was off. Hell, part of him was already beating himself up over his flagrant decision-making tonight.
Hikaru noticed something was off and looked up at Yoshiki. "You okay?" he asked.
Something sharp pinched in Yoshiki's stomach, and he regretted not getting a refill on prescriptions sooner. He might need another pill to mitigate the pain right now. "Yeah…" he finally said, "yeah, I'm fine. Go on."
Hikaru hesitated but went on. "Uh... like I was sayin'…" His words picked up speed as he spoke, and he was back to his usual playful tone again. "It's like they notice something that I don't and it makes me 'preciate all the good things out there even more. Because even though they sad, they got to be able to express it and all. This gloomy music—"
"Hey! It's not that gloomy!"
"—yeah, yeah, and poison ivy don't exist, poison ivy's just in yer imagination! All's I'm sayin' is that this makes me feel just as happy as upbeat music would. That's why I love everything I hear!"
"I see, I see," Yoshiki nodded in understanding. He noticed a dim light from outside, possibly from a nearby street lamp, shine through the window, and it gave Hikaru's eyes a subtle glint to them. A sparkle matching his enthusiasm. Suddenly, he began to miss the original Hikaru again.
Then he thought about Crowley the Crow, a bird the two boys used to take care of together. He thought of the bird's grave they had made outside of their hideout must be soaking up the puddles of rain. What was it like to be dead and soak up the rainfall? What was it like for the rain to help soften the ground, making it easier to break down something that is dead? To turn it into richer nutrients for the earth around it?
Would Hikaru have ended up like that? Or would he have been washed away like an empty, styrofoam take-out cup—a thing tossed out by someone with no consideration for the evermore brittle environment?
A look of confusion crossed Hikaru's face and he cocked his head. "Can humans be happy over sad things, and sad over happy things?" Yoshiki didn't answer, but Hikaru could read the answer in his eyes, even in the dark, even with locks of ebony hair obscuring half of Yoshiki's face.
In almost every movie Hikaru watched during class, whenever two people drew together and became one, it was always paired up with a major chord that suggested the ultimate moment. The epic climax before the movie reaches its conclusion. But this was not the epic climax he thought it would be. There was no music except for whatever soft, gloomy track was playing on the Discman.
Just the quiet interlude.
A thought that had belonged to the original Hikaru flickered through Hikaru's. Most of it was a lewd fantasy, but what stuck out was how his lips met with a pretty—albeit forgettable—woman, her own lips as soft as watermelon mochi and tasting just as sweet. Of course, he only had the vaguest idea what mochi was, if only because of Hikaru's memories of having it, rather than tasting any himself. And anyway, he knew better than to think Yoshiki would ever touch sweets like that. Sure, his lips were soft, and Hikaru thought Yoshiki was beautiful—princely, even—but his mouth had more of a dry, bitter aftertaste to it. Like the only things he'd been eating all day were those white round things he kept close by in his room. They probably were.
He pulled away, but before he could ask again if Yoshiki was okay, the latter tightened his grip around Hikaru, buried his face into the former's shoulder, and gasped.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just miss him so much…"
"Yoshiki, I…" but Hikaru couldn't say more. His eyes were also misting up his vision. Guilt kept either of them from saying anything else. Hikaru for being an eldricth abomination marionetting some kid's corpse, and who caused harmed to people—probably more of it fatal than he wanted to know; and Yoshiki for almost always choosing to stand up for him anyway. They both knew they were not supposed to be around each other, should they ever merge.
But here they were.
Monster and Boy.
Wrapped in a blanket in this darkened room, within the shy hours of morning, with only the sounds of rain outside, and music like white noise inside.
When Hikaru placed his hand on Yoshiki's cheek, it brought a sort of comfort that Yoshiki had missed so damn much. Since the beginning of the year, his thoughts had been as stable as crudely hand-drawn animation, the pencil markings and eraser shavings still scattered across the paper. He just wanted to escape it all so badly—Kubitachi, all these bigger secrets behind it, his own sanity. And he wasn't done kiss. In fact, neither of them were.
Meanwhile, the wordless music on the Discman ebbed and flowed like the ocean in Yoshiki's dream. No, Hikaru would never listen to stuff like what they were listening to, but he thought Hikaru had been right enough. Even though the night, the storm, and the music were all melancholy, there was something comforting about all of them.
For now.