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It's one of those perfect autumn days when Hikaru can't stand to be inside, fidgeting at his desk, staring up at the clock as if that'll somehow make it move faster. By the time club rolls around all he wants to do is run. So he doesn't ask Yoshiki to skip with him like he normally might - not that Yoshiki has anything better to do, anyway - just heads down to the soccer field for practice instead. And that's good, then - running laps, moving his body, laughing in ruthless delight when one of the other first-years almost scores a goal on their own team.
It's that point in the afternoon when the track and field club starts trickling by, so Hikaru has one eye on the game and the other peeled for whoever else might be around. A flash of dark hair in the periphery of his vision catches his attention. He angles around hopefully, in case Saitou is watching, but it's only Yoshiki with his camera again. Hikaru blinks, and realizes it's pointed at him.
He makes a face right at the lens. Yoshiki scowls and looks up from the viewfinder, locking eyes with him from across the field.
One of Hikaru's teammates runs by. "You gonna start paying attention, Indou?"
"I am paying attention," Hikaru shoots back, and sprints for the ball again.
One of the guys kicks a ball over the fence at the end of practice, and of course Hikaru is the one who gets stuck with the task of retrieving it. So while the others are putting away the cones and jerseys, Hikaru is out in the alleyway, grumbling to himself and trying to figure out where the hell it could've rolled off to. It isn't fair. He knows the upperclassmen don't like him, just 'cause he won't treat them like the greatest thing to walk this earth for being a whole year or two older than him. But there's no reason he should be out here chasing down a ball he didn't even kick.
He considers giving up and making it someone else's problem. Yoshiki will already be waiting for him so they can go home. He turns to go, and of course right then he spots the ball wedged underneath a car. Spitefully, Hikaru thinks about leaving it there anyway, just to prove some kind of point. But in the end he fishes it out and heads back towards the gym.
He's just outside the storage room when voices reach him from inside. One of them is Noguchi's, one of the third-years from club, cutting derisively above the rest. "Did you see Tsujinaka slinking around all practice again? You think he jerks off to those photos later?"
Hikaru stops dead.
There's a smattering of laughter from inside. Some of the other third-years, he thinks, but isn't sure. It's hard to tell exactly over the sudden rush of noise in his ears. Noguchi keeps on talking, his voice too loud, like he doesn't care at all who might be passing by and overhear him. "It's gross, man. He should keep that shit to himself."
Maybe, in the version of events that Hikaru might tell people one day, he'll have done something heroic then. Like fought them, or burst in with the perfect snide remark to rip them all apart. He can't just stand there and let them insinuate that Yoshiki is gay or some crap like that. But he does. He keeps standing there, paralyzed, until a head pops out of the doorway to look at him.
"Oh, Indou." Noguchi doesn't even seem concerned that Hikaru might have heard him. "Took you long enough."
He plucks the ball from Hikaru's hands and turns away in a clear dismissal, leaving Hikaru standing there, useless, once again.
Yoshiki is waiting for him by the bike racks, staring idly up at the sky. As Hikaru approaches, Yoshiki glances over, his hair fluttering around his face in the breeze. Hikaru's stomach seizes with something like guilt. He shoves the feeling aside and plasters a smile on his face instead. "How'd it go with your photos? Get any good ones of me?"
Yoshiki just gives him his usual flat stare. "Maybe I would if you'd stop making stupid faces for 'em."
"Not gonna happen." Hikaru jostles his bike free from the rack. "If you do get a good one of me, lemme know. I wanna post it." He grins and waggles his eyebrows. "Maybe Saitou will see."
Yoshiki rolls his eyes.
They wheel their bikes out towards the road. Hikaru stops on the pretense of retying his shoe, letting himself fall a couple steps behind. A twinge goes through his chest as he watches the back of Yoshiki's head bobbing along ahead of him.
"You ain't talking much today," Yoshiki says.
"Just thinking."
"Hm. Didn't know you knew how to do that."
Hikaru gasps in mock outrage. Yoshiki throws a glance at him over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement on his face, there and then gone again.
"Maybe not," Hikaru says, "but at least I know I can still beat your slow ass back home."
Then they're both scrambling to get on their bikes, shouldering ahead of one another. Hikaru kicks Yoshiki in the leg and hears Yoshiki yelp. He breaks away first, peeling ahead of Yoshiki with a gleeful shout as Yoshiki curses him from behind. All exactly as it should be.
But the guilt still squirms inside him. Guilt, and something else, an emotion he doesn't have a word for, twisty and scratching at the insides of his skin. He looks briefly back at Yoshiki, at Yoshiki's eyes squinted against the sunlight. An uncomfortable thought prickles in the back of his mind, one he isn't proud of, but there all the same. If people start saying that Yoshiki is gay, what are they going to think about him?
The problem, Hikaru decides, is that Yoshiki is kind of a wimp. Yoshiki is quiet, and bookish, and not all that strong. He cries at movies, and he gives up too easily, and he gets all nervy and flustered whenever he thinks he might get in trouble. Yoshiki's gotten away with it for all these years because he's always been taller than the rest of them; no one's picking him out as an obvious target at first glance. But if you know how to sniff these things out - and Hikaru does - Yoshiki's got that unmistakable wounded-animal quality to him, like a deer limping just a bit as it moves through the herd. The sort of guy you can't help but want to push around a little, just to see how far he'll let you take it.
Hikaru doesn't like that other people might be starting to see it, too.
He spends the next day at school worrying about it, only half-listening to whatever the teacher is saying. Every so often his eyes drift over towards Yoshiki. Yoshiki is always hunched in his seat, leaning over his notebook as he writes, or with his chin resting on his palm as he looks out the window. Even at lunch Yoshiki never sits straight up, always ducking down as he talks, like he doesn't want to meet their eyes. Not exactly the pinnacle of strength and charisma. Which has previously suited Hikaru just fine - it's fun to push Yoshiki around, after all. But Hikaru is the only one allowed to do that. It's different when other people might start doing it, too.
If he thinks about it too much it kind of pisses him off. Yoshiki could make himself less of a target if he'd just try a little more. If he didn't always give in so easily, or if he joined one of the sports clubs instead of something as artsy as photography, or if he just talked about girls with the rest of them instead of being so ridiculously private all the time. There's plenty of things that would keep people off his back. It's really not that hard to do.
But this is Yoshiki he's talking about. So what does he expect?
Probably, really, the best thing would be if Yoshiki actually got a girlfriend. Then it wouldn't matter so much if he is kind of a wimp, 'cause no one could say shit about him then. But Yoshiki's always been tight-lipped about that kind of thing. Still, he must like someone, right? Maybe if Hikaru can find out who it is, he can come up with some sort of plan. Not that Hikaru would tell, exactly. But at least he could make sure the right sort of rumors start going around.
He waits to strike until they're biking home. The day is unusually warm for October, all golden afternoon sunlight and puffy clouds. Hikaru lets Yoshiki ride just ahead of him, lulling him with pointless chatter that he knows won't get Yoshiki's hackles up: the math homework, the pics Asako showed them of her dog. Yoshiki responds like he's barely listening. Every few seconds he has to swipe his bangs away as the wind blows them back into his eyes.
As they start to cross over the river Hikaru picks up speed, pulling up level with Yoshiki's bike. "Hey, Yoshiki," he says. "You like anyone at school?"
Yoshiki's whole bike wobbles as his head snaps around. "The hell you asking me that for?"
He looks so affronted that Hikaru bursts out laughing. "What's with that look? It's just a normal question."
Yoshiki makes a face and turns forward again.
Hikaru snorts. "Man, you always get so touchy -"
"Maybe I already got enough people in my business without you having to stick your nose in."
"Nah, you like it when it's me doing it. If I don't get you outta your shell then who will?"
Yoshiki's frown deepens, but he doesn't say anything. As they reach the other side of the river he glances sideways at Hikaru. "I don't like anyone," he says. "So leave it, okay?"
He really is such a terrible liar that Hikaru can't help but smile. Yoshiki looks at him again, sees the expression on Hikaru's face, and turns away in disgust. "I mean it."
"Aww, does somebody have a widdle crush -"
"I said leave it!"
"Come on, we're supposed to tell each other this stuff! I ain't gonna spill your secrets." More silence. Hikaru puts on his pleading voice that always makes Yoshiki cave whenever they're arguing over which game to play. "Yoshikiii."
That earns him a glare. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"So there is someone!" Hikaru straightens up. "Who is she? Is she in our class?"
Yoshiki is quiet, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.
The glow of Hikaru's minor victory curdles into frustration. "Man, no fair! I've told you everything about Saitou!" He swerves closer to Yoshiki with a furious huff, almost clipping Yoshiki's bike, which makes Yoshiki glare at him again. Hikaru mirrors the expression back. "Fine. If you're not telling me then I'm just gonna start guessing."
He chews on the inside of his cheek, running through everything he knows about Yoshiki's type. Yoshiki's always been real private about this sort of thing, so there's not a whole lot to go on. Probably someone more outgoing than Yoshiki - there needs to be some sort of excitement in the poor guy's life, after all. But someone dependable. Yoshiki would like that sort of thing. Some girl from the photography club? Except Yoshiki is pretty much the most active member, and even he hardly ever goes.
None of that is very helpful, so Hikaru abandons it and just starts tallying up all the girls they know. Out loud, because he knows that Yoshiki will absolutely hate it.
"Maeda? Tamashiro? Yuzuki? Nishimoto? Yuuki? Iwadare? Sumida? Ikari? Asako? Nakagawa? Usami?" He snickers to himself at that last one. "Oh, yeah, I bet she'd totally go for a gloomy guy like you. Doesn't she like that singer in that one band? If you did your hair to the side you'd look just like him, she'd totally let you score -"
"Do you ever shut the hell up?"
"Only if you make me." He sticks his tongue out and puts on a burst of speed, racing ahead of Yoshiki with a whoop.
The breeze is cool and glorious on Hikaru's face. He laughs, as much from the exhilaration of riding as from the venomous look that Yoshiki gives him as Hikaru shoots by. He keeps his lead as they head out of Kibogayama proper and up the mountain road, setting a pace that keeps them too breathless to talk or argue anymore.
He relents as they wind back down towards Kubitachi, letting Yoshiki pass him, coasting to give his own legs a break. A small thread of dismay shivers inside his chest as he watches Yoshiki pull away ahead of him. Why is Yoshiki fighting him so hard on this? Yoshiki always does what Hikaru wants. Besides, they're supposed to talk to each other about this kind of stuff, aren't they? Hikaru has yapped Yoshiki's ear off about girls plenty of times. Can't Yoshiki just reciprocate for once in his life?
So why wouldn't he? Unless - maybe Yoshiki likes Saitou, too?
Hikaru swerves uneasily, dropping farther behind Yoshiki as he considers the idea. He wants to reject it immediately, but, well, it sort of would explain a lot, wouldn't it? Maybe Yoshiki likes Saitou and he's trying to be all noble and martyrly about it 'cause Hikaru said he liked her first. That really is the sort of thing that Yoshiki would do - pretending nothing's wrong just to spare Hikaru's feelings, and then going to mope about it all alone later. Hikaru can picture it now: poor, pathetic Yoshiki, curled up on his bed, probably listening to that sad music he likes. Hikaru almost smirks, but there's too much wriggling uncertainty in him for the smile to make it to his lips.
The composite image in Hikaru's head of Yoshiki and Saitou imposed next to each other makes his stomach jolt in a particularly queasy way. He discards the thought emphatically.
They're coming up on the fork in the road that goes to Kubitachi. The left side takes them on a straight shot to Yoshiki's house, while the other winds circuitously around the whole village, an extra ten minutes or more of riding. Ahead of Hikaru, Yoshiki is already angling for the left road and home. Hikaru narrows his eyes at the back of Yoshiki's head. Then he beams. "Hey! Yoshiki!"
As Yoshiki looks around, Hikaru swivels his bike to tear down the other road as fast as he can.
He hears the squeal of Yoshiki's brakes behind him, Yoshiki's voice raised in frustration. Hikaru doesn't look around. He just pedals harder, the fields rushing by him until they're a blur of green and gold and orange, so bright and beautiful that he's too delighted to keep being angry anymore. The wind streams into his face and makes him squint. He grips the handlebars tighter and squeezes his eyes shut, trusting the road not to let him crash.
He doesn't look back at all until he's halfway around the village. He doesn't have to. He already knows what he'll see: Yoshiki riding somewhere behind him, a pout on his face, following after Hikaru instead of taking the shorter route home. Doing what Hikaru wants, just like he always does.
Unless maybe he isn't, this time - because if Yoshiki has started keeping secrets from him, defying him, what else might Yoshiki do?
Hikaru's heart lurches. He looks over his shoulder.
He smiles. Yoshiki stares daggers at him from ten meters behind. Still there, still following him. Because of course he is.
Meet me outside, Hikaru texts him after dinner. Then he waits for a while, lying on the floor of his room and scrolling idly through his phone, before hauling himself up to go get his shoes. That should be long enough. He likes the idea of Yoshiki standing out in the dark waiting for him. Not for so long that Yoshiki gets properly mad, but just enough to piss him off a little. Serves him right for being so withholding.
Sure enough, when Hikaru gets to Yoshiki's house, Yoshiki is sitting out front with his arms wrapped around his knees. He watches Hikaru approach with one arched eyebrow. "You get lost or something?"
Hikaru flashes him an innocent smile. "Mama wanted me to help put the laundry away."
Yoshiki stares at him for a while longer, then gives up with a sigh, just like Hikaru knew he would. "What's so important you gotta drag me out now?"
"Come along and maybe you'll find out."
They walk down the lane together, side by side, falling into their usual rhythm. With the sun down the night has turned chilly, a promise of the approaching winter creeping in. Yoshiki didn't bring a jacket, and Hikaru can tell that he's miffed about that too, but Yoshiki doesn't ask to go back and get one, so Hikaru doesn't offer, either. If Yoshiki wants something, he thinks, savagely, Yoshiki can very well ask for it himself.
It doesn't take long to reach the empty Fujita place out on the edge of the village. While the other homes scattered across the valley glow with lights and the flicker of television, this one squats dark and silent on the side of the road. It's been that way for nearly as long as Hikaru can remember. He recalls the Fujitas only vaguely, as elderly figures who died when he and Yoshiki were kids. The house has sat empty ever since, 'cause there sure as hell is nobody moving to Kubitachi.
Time has peeled the wood and sent scrubby plants shooting up the sides of the house, but none of that is visible in the dark. Hikaru stops in front of it and turns to Yoshiki with a grand sweep of his arms. "Here we are."
Yoshiki looks at it. "It's a house," he says flatly.
"Yeah, no way. Now help me find a rock."
He starts kicking through the dirt while Yoshiki just stands there, staring at him. "Why?"
"We need some way to break the door."
This is always the best part: watching Yoshiki squirm, caught between his incessant need to not get in trouble and his inability to resist doing what Hikaru tells him. Yoshiki's gaze flickers to the house, then to Hikaru again, his mouth tightening into an unhappy line. "But, we can't -"
"Man, do you always have to be such a wuss? Just help me look."
Yoshiki doesn't, though. Instead he continues standing there, watching as Hikaru tramples through the tall grass. Hikaru keeps him in the corner of one eye at all times, first with unease and then compounding irritation. This isn't how it's supposed to go. Yoshiki is supposed to argue, then capitulate; that's what always happens with the two of them, because Yoshiki always does what Hikaru wants.
Just like Yoshiki isn't supposed to start keeping secrets from him. Yeah, look how well that's turned out.
Hikaru scowls to himself and pries a fist-sized rock out of the dirt before trudging back over to Yoshiki. "Got one," he says testily. "Big help you were."
It doesn't make him feel any better to know that he's going about this all wrong. Yoshiki is much more easily persuaded with humor and flattery than with mockery. Hikaru knows that. But he's just too pissed off to try being nice about it. None of this is going the way it's supposed to. Why has Yoshiki had to go and start standing up to him now, right when Hikaru is trying to help him?
A sharp realization jolts down Hikaru's spine, freezing him in place - that he might actually be pushing Yoshiki too far this time. This could be the thing that makes Yoshiki finally get fed up with him, just turn around and go, and leave Hikaru standing all alone here in the dark. He recoils from the sudden depths of terror he feels at the thought.
No, no, he can't let that happen. Hikaru forces a smile onto his mouth. Humor and flattery, flattery and humor. He inches closer to Yoshiki, hefting the rock lightly in his palm. Yoshiki gives him a wary look but doesn't move away.
"Come on," Hikaru says, and offers him a conspiratorial little grin. "No one cares what happens to this place. It'll all fall down soon enough, anyway." He nudges Yoshiki's ankle with the toe of his sneaker. "You never get tired of being so good all the time?"
A fleeting look crosses Yoshiki's face, so fast that it's unreadable. Hikaru's smile widens into a more genuine one. "At least just come with me. I won't make you do anything. Leave you with your virtue intact and all that."
Yoshiki frowns, but when Hikaru walks up to the house he follows behind. Up close the exterior is filthy, scummed over with years of accumulated dirt and grime. Hikaru tests the front door, just in case it's unlocked. It isn't, but the window set into it looks eminently smashable.
The corner of Hikaru's mouth twitches as he turns back to Yoshiki. "Do you want the honors, or should I?"
He means it as a joke. Obviously Yoshiki isn't going to break the door. Which is why Hikaru doesn't react except to stare blankly when Yoshiki holds out his hand. It's only when Yoshiki lifts an eyebrow that Hikaru blinks, shaking back into himself. He smiles, incredulous, and drops the rock into Yoshiki's open palm.
Yoshiki holds it for a second, like he's considering its weight. Hikaru watches him with bated breath. Yoshiki gives him another undecipherable look, the glance arrowing toward him through the darkness. Then Yoshiki steps back and hurls the stone right at the window.
The whole thing bursts into a shower of glass, glittering and raining down over the hard packed earth. Hikaru gasps in visceral delight. "Oh, damn!"
Yoshiki looks as if he thinks someone is going to come sprinting out of the darkness to arrest them. Hikaru cackles. He feels lightheaded, almost dizzy, the sensation bubbling up through his bones to the top of his lungs. "Oh, yeah," he says gleefully. "That's definitely good enough."
Shards of glass cling to the window frame like teeth, sharp against the gaping darkness within. Hikaru reaches carefully around them and gropes for the latch. At last he finds it and unlocks the door, sliding it open with a broad smile at Yoshiki. He gestures at the doorway magnanimously. "After you."
Yoshiki doesn't move. Hikaru grins. "What? You scared all of a sudden?"
He flutters his eyes at Yoshiki in an exaggerated way. Yoshiki grimaces, but uncrosses his arms and steps through the door. God, he really does make it so easy.
Hikaru pulls out his phone to turn the flashlight on, sliding the door shut behind them. Inside it smells of mildew and the faded animal stench of some long-absent creature's nest. Most of the furniture is gone, but there are lingering remnants of the house's prior inhabitants - moldering cushions, a small wooden table shoved into the corner, papers that have been glued to the floor by age and damp. Fractured windows in the back have let in both animals and rain. The evidence of both is clear in streaks of dirt and dead leaves on the ground.
"Gross," Hikaru says cheerfully. "I wanna see what's in the other rooms."
The house creaks with their footsteps, like it's watching as they go. There's not a lot to see, but Hikaru takes his time, mostly because it's kind of funny how obviously uneasy it makes Yoshiki. The kitchen still has old, dusty dishes on the counter, and the torn-up wrappers of some packaged food that has long-since been scavenged by animals. There's a scattered pile of garbage in the hallway that's too old to even have an odor anymore. All the while, Yoshiki trails after Hikaru, his arms crossed, only responding in curt sentences to whatever Hikaru points out.
By the time they end up back at the front room, Hikaru is almost disappointed that there's nothing more exciting in here than some old rodent droppings and dead leaves. Yoshiki makes a beeline for the door, clearly eager to go. A new idea unfurls in the back of Hikaru's mind, a bit of a mean one. Mean, but funny.
He stops in the middle of the room. "Let's close our eyes," he says. "See if we can hear any ghosts or something."
Yoshiki gives him a baleful look. "There ain't any ghosts in here."
"Nothing to be scared of, then."
He turns his phone light off and shoves it back into his pocket before Yoshiki can protest. The darkness settles in around them. Hikaru has to blink several times before his eyes start to adjust. Yoshiki is a vague shape in the shadows, staring ruefully back at him.
"Come on," Hikaru pleads. "Just for a minute."
He waits for Yoshiki to grumble and close his eyes. Then Hikaru creeps up to him, stepping carefully to avoid the creaking spots and broken glass littering the floor.
Yoshiki heaves an exasperated sigh. "Terrifying," he says. "Now can we -"
Right as he opens his eyes Hikaru tackles him with a howl. "Rahhh! Spirits got ya!"
He clamps Yoshiki's arms down, pinning them to Yoshiki's sides. Yoshiki makes an indignant noise and struggles to break free. He wrestles against Hikaru for only a couple seconds before he surrenders, going loose and unresisting in Hikaru's grasp. Which is just typical Yoshiki, really; what else did Hikaru expect from him? Only this time instead of disappointment it manifests as a sudden wave of fury, boiling over and igniting all the little resentments piling up inside him - fury at Yoshiki, for keeping his smug little secrets, for making Hikaru have to do all this, and most of all for letting himself be such a goddamned easy target all the time.
"Just fight me!" He shakes Yoshiki by the shoulders. "You'd be stronger than me if you wanna be! You're always letting me shove you around. Always giving up instead of even trying! Why do you always just sit there and take it?"
Yoshiki's eyes have gone huge and round. His mouth opens, then closes without a word, flinching as Hikaru shakes him again. He looks so much like a kicked puppy cowering back from its owner that Hikaru's lip curls in disgust.
"You're always just doing whatever I tell you! Always looking at me like that! What the hell's wrong with you? People really are gonna think you're - ow!"
He doubles over as Yoshiki jabs him right in the gut. Hikaru wheezes in pain, stupefied. Then he stands up, snarling, and shoves Yoshiki back into the wall.
This time Yoshiki doesn't go limp. He launches himself at Hikaru, clawing at Hikaru's face. Hikaru bodychecks him right in the sternum with his shoulder and feels the breath whoosh from Yoshiki's lungs. Yoshiki staggers back, his hands on his knees as he gasps for air. That should be the end of it, there, done - except then Yoshiki straightens up and flings himself back at Hikaru with a furious cry.
Suddenly all of Hikaru's rage is metamorphized into giddy elation. Yoshiki is actually fighting. Not in the half-assed way he usually does, having given up before he even starts, but really fighting, like they haven't done since they were kids. Hikaru can't help it; he laughs, breathless, even as he feels Yoshiki's wordless bewilderment over what he could possibly have to laugh for. He can barely explain it even to himself. This is what he wants: him and Yoshiki, the way it used to be, before there were all these rifts and secrets between them. Before anything else mattered but the two of them, carefree and inseparable and perfectly in sync. Just two boys running wild, thinking of nothing but the pure immediacy of the fight and the promise of reconciliation after.
They're better matched now that Yoshiki is actually trying, but Yoshiki still isn't accustomed to putting in real physical effort. It only takes a couple of maneuvers for Hikaru to pin him back against the door. Yoshiki's left arm has gotten twisted up behind Yoshiki's back, the other caught in Hikaru's grip. Hikaru's arm is across Yoshiki's neck, trapping him in place. The point of his elbow digs into Yoshiki's shoulder.
Yoshiki's pulse hammers underneath the skin. Hikaru expects him to go slack again, give up the fight as obviously lost now, but Yoshiki just stares back, unmoving, his eyes twin black pools in the dark. His breath is warm on Hikaru's face. Hikaru's veins buzz with adrenaline and the surge of an emotion he doesn't know how to name. He bares his teeth and pushes Yoshiki back against the door even harder, just because he can.
Yoshiki gasps in pain - not play-fighting pain but something real and physical. The smile falls from Hikaru's mouth. He releases Yoshiki, taking two quick steps back. "What? You okay?"
But Yoshiki is already unfolding his trapped arm from behind his back. Liquid runs down it, near-black in the darkness. Hikaru stares at it, not comprehending. Then he does: he's pushed Yoshiki right into the broken glass in the window frame. Yoshiki is bleeding. Hikaru's eyes widen as a trickle of blood runs down to Yoshiki's elbow and drips onto the floor. Yoshiki stares down at it in disbelief.
"Oh, shit," Hikaru says. And then again. "Oh, shit."
Hikaru's house is closer, so that's where they are. Yoshiki is hunched over the bathroom counter, dripping blood into the sink. Hikaru shuffles through the cabinets in search of bandages, which he knows are around here somewhere, definitely, so where the hell have they all gone? At last he spots the bin of first aid things shoved into a back corner and wrestles it out. Yoshiki watches each movement with the sort of intense focus that means he's trying very hard not to panic.
"Okay," Hikaru says as he pops the bin open, just to fill the silence with enough words to keep Yoshiki calm. "Hold on a sec."
He sets the bin down and turns to examine Yoshiki's arm. Glass has sliced the skin open in several places deep enough to still be bleeding. As Hikaru leans in closer, the light glints off a sliver of something in one of them. He winces, then forces his face back to stillness. Yoshiki is watching him, after all.
"I think there's a bit of glass in there," he says, as nonchalantly as he can. "Gonna get it out."
He fishes the tweezers out of the bin. Yoshiki's eyes are owlishly huge. "You sure you can - ?"
"I can do it," Hikaru says.
In unspoken agreement he lets Yoshiki hold onto his hand. Yoshiki's palm is sweaty and hot, his whole body tensed in anticipation of the pain. For some reason his nerves make Hikaru feel more settled, an emotional counterweight balancing Yoshiki out. He breathes in, then out, making his shoulders relax. He clicks the tweezers together, testing how they move.
"Okay," he says, and tries to grab the sliver of glass.
Yoshiki makes an agonized noise, squeezing Hikaru's hand hard. Hikaru bites his lip, struggling to get an adequate grip with the tweezers. The first two times the sliver slips away from him. On the third try he gets it. He releases his held breath with a silent sigh of relief as he pulls the glass from Yoshiki's arm. It comes away with a fresh trickle of blood.
Yoshiki gives a very small moan. Hikaru drops the piece of glass on the counter.
"There," he says.
He looks the rest of Yoshiki's arm over, but there's no other glass that he can see. When Hikaru glances up again, Yoshiki's face is turned away, his shoulders shaking in a small, suppressed motion.
Hikaru blinks at him. "You crying?"
"No," Yoshiki says.
He really is such a terrible liar. Normally Hikaru would rag on him for that, but even he can admit that getting a piece of glass stuck in your arm is a pretty decent reason to cry. So he ignores it, letting Yoshiki sniffle to himself while Hikaru looks through the bin of first aid things, figuring out what he has to work with.
"Hikaru," Yoshiki says. His voice quavers. "Are you mad at me?"
Hikaru looks up, startled. Then he scowls. "I ain't mad at you. Who said anything about being mad at you?" He forges ahead before Yoshiki can respond. "I got the glass out. Now hold this over it for a bit."
He unwraps a pack of gauze and hands it to Yoshiki. Yoshiki presses it over his arm with a wince, slumping down to sit with his back against the wall. Hikaru turns on the faucet to rinse the blood in the sink away, which is conveniently also loud enough to prevent any further conversation. The water runs pink down the drain. He continues watching it until well after it's all turned clear.
He shuts it off and tosses the sliver of glass into the wastebasket. It leaves behind a single bright red bead of blood on the edge of the counter. He wipes it away with his finger.
"Hikaru," Yoshiki says again, from behind him.
"Hm?"
"My blood's probably all over that door."
He sounds so defeated that Hikaru can't help but snort. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure someone'll send for the finest forensic experts in the country to analyze the crime scene. I promise to write you in prison."
When he turns back around Yoshiki is giving him a caustic look. Hikaru tamps down a grin. If Yoshiki has the energy to be all bitchy at him then he can't be that badly hurt. All that bleeding just made it seem worse than it actually was. There's still a trail of drying blood all down Yoshiki's arm, bright and sticky in the overhead light. Hikaru considers it for a moment, then grabs a towel off the rack and wets the end under the faucet. "Here. Gimme your hand."
Yoshiki's shoulders tense. "Why?"
"I'm not having you drip blood on my floors any more than you already have."
Yoshiki makes a face, but acquiesces, holding out his hand as Hikaru kneels beside him. Hikaru takes it carefully, feeling the weight of it in his palm. He starts wiping the blood away, trying to jostle Yoshiki as little as possible, only turning Yoshiki's arm when he needs to.
He can feel Yoshiki's gaze on him as he works. He keeps his own eyes firmly down, pausing once to dampen a fresh corner of the towel as the first gets too stained. For the second time that night Hikaru is close enough to feel Yoshiki's pulse beneath his hands, the slight motion of Yoshiki's body as Yoshiki breathes. Yoshiki's fingers are curled loosely together. When Hikaru turns them over to dab at the blood there they just barely brush against his wrist.
Yoshiki says, "They're gonna think I'm what?"
Hikaru looks up. "Huh?"
He was wrong; Yoshiki isn't looking at him after all. Yoshiki's eyes are half-closed, trained on the wastebasket in the corner. "What you said back there. People really are gonna think I'm what?"
"Nothing," Hikaru says easily. "I don't even remember saying that."
He keeps wiping the blood away, unhurried and unconcerned, a guy with nothing to hide. Yoshiki is silent again. Hikaru almost wants to look at him, to see whether he believes it, but narrowly resists the impulse. He knows that Yoshiki will swallow the lie before too long. Yoshiki sees through some of Hikaru's lies, but never the important ones.
He's cleaned off as much of the blood as he can. Hikaru pauses, regarding the towel cynically. Might be ruined, but whatever. He lets it crumple on the floor. "Has the bleeding stopped now?"
Yoshiki lifts the gauze from his arm to check. "Think so."
"I'll bandage it up for you, then."
Hikaru scoots in next to Yoshiki with a fresh pack of gauze from the first aid bin. The cuts in Yoshiki's arm are raw and oozing, but at least they're not streaming blood anymore. Hikaru considers them with mild apprehension. He doesn't really know how you're supposed to do this, but he's pretty sure Yoshiki doesn't either, so it's not like Yoshiki can complain about his technique.
He can't find any tape in the bin, so he makes Yoshiki hold the gauze pads down and just starts rolling a bandage over them to keep them in place. Both of them are quiet as he works. The immediate panic of seeing Yoshiki hurt has passed, leaving Hikaru's body warm and sort of achy, the hum of the bathroom fan like a blanket swaddling them close. There's a strange comfort to it, the two of them crouched together as if they were boys again, hiding a skinned knee or bruise from their parents. He wonders if Yoshiki feels it, too. If this shared moment is enough to bridge whatever gap has formed between them.
"Yoshiki," he says. "Do you like Saitou?"
He glances up on the last word so he can catch Yoshiki's unfiltered reaction. Yoshiki blinks, then recoils, his forehead furrowing in pained confusion. "Huh?"
That look can only be genuine. Hikaru snorts to himself and looks back down. "Never mind."
He can practically hear the thoughts clattering around in Yoshiki's skull. Yoshiki shifts uncomfortably, clenching the gauze wrapper in his other hand. "You... think I like Saitou?"
"Nah, not really. Just thought that might be why you were being so cagey about it and all. 'Cause you knew I like her too."
"I don't like Saitou," Yoshiki mutters.
"Yeah, I know. Now hold still."
He's almost done wrapping up Yoshiki's arm. From the corner of his eye Hikaru can see Yoshiki watching him. Yoshiki looks so fragile like that, slouched against the wall with his hair falling into his eyes. A vulnerable thing, too exhausted to defend himself any further. Hikaru sees it, and knows in a flash of absolute certainty that if he presses Yoshiki right now then Yoshiki will crack. Yoshiki will tell him everything - every secret that's ever come between them, every emotion and hidden thought of Yoshiki's heart, all of it bared and there for the taking. He could find out who Yoshiki likes. He could find out anything at all, and all Hikaru has to do is ask. And he understands, too, that doing so will break something in Yoshiki, some delicate internal wall holding Yoshiki together, and that Yoshiki knows that, and will let him do it anyway. Because Yoshiki always does what Hikaru wants.
He hovers at the edge of that precipice for longer than he'd like to admit. Then he tucks the end of the bandage into itself and leans away.
"There," he says. "All patched up."
Yoshiki twists his arm gingerly around, looking it over. His mouth quirks in irritation. "You made me look like a mummy or something. I don't think it was even bleeding all that much."
"Hah. What're you gonna tell your parents?"
Yoshiki scoffs. "Nothing. I'll just wear a jacket over it or something."
He starts moving like he's going to get to his feet. Hikaru's stomach lurches. He can't let Yoshiki leave yet - not when Yoshiki is so vulnerable, when anyone who sees him will know exactly how easy it is to take him apart. What if Yoshiki shows up to school like this tomorrow, where everyone will see? Nothing Hikaru can do will be able to help him then. And the worst part is that Yoshiki doesn't even see it. Yoshiki just doesn't have that instinct, the one that makes you poke and prod at people, sniff out their weak spots, find the best way to sink your teeth into their throat. Maybe Yoshiki lets himself be such an easy target because he doesn't understand how exposed his own throat really is. But Hikaru does. So it's up to Hikaru to fix this. To keep Yoshiki safe, yet again.
Hikaru folds his hands together in his lap. "Sorry," he says. "For - all that."
He's not used to apologizing. The words are messy and unlike him, sticking in his throat. He registers Yoshiki's slow surprise, Yoshiki turning the words over to see if there's a hidden catch to them. After a moment Yoshiki lets out a miserable little sigh. "Guess it's my fault, too," he mumbles. "I was the one who broke the window."
They look at each other. Then Hikaru snickers, and they both burst into stifled, convulsive laughter, shushing each other so Hikaru's mama won't hear. Hikaru thumps Yoshiki lightly on the shoulder. Yoshiki grabs Hikaru's head and shoves it down, ruffling his hair, and for one shimmering, beautiful instant it's exactly like when they were kids. Hikaru's breath hitches. He closes his eyes and wishes it could last. He knows it can't. But he wishes it, anyway.
Yoshiki lets go of Hikaru's head. That awful, vulnerable thing is retreating back inside him, shrouded underneath all of Yoshiki's usual gloom and dry sarcasm. Hikaru is relieved to see it go. He stands up, satisfied, and shoves the bin of first aid things back into the cabinet.
It's going to be okay. He's sure of that now. He'll be able to keep Yoshiki near him, close enough to protect. He doesn't know exactly how he's going to do it, but he's certain he'll figure it out. The important thing is that Yoshiki still needs him. Just as much as Hikaru needs Yoshiki to need him. It's a perfect equilibrium. It always has been. So even if it's one more duty for Hikaru to bear, at least this is one he'll shoulder gladly, and without regret: to keep Yoshiki safe, by his side. No matter what it takes.
"Come on," he says, grabbing Yoshiki's uninjured arm to help him up from the floor. "Since you're already here we might as well play Smash or something."
And he squeezes Yoshiki's arm a little too hard as he does it, just 'cause it's fun to watch Yoshiki squirm.