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He had left his bedroom window unlocked, just in case. It felt like years ago now.
The memory of their frantic return home had already blurred into a great swirl of relief, terror, and eternal devotion. Yoshiki remembers holding ‘Hikaru’ in all of his monstrous glory. He remembers the loving caress of the being whose touch posed a fatal threat so inconceivable that it dominated the village’s mythology for generations, but was only ever gentle with him, and he remembers the lingering horror of hearing his own confession echoing back into his ears. He remembers, vaguely, a strong force plucking him from the ground, and distant screams as he was suddenly in motion, barreling away from onlookers who watched with judgment-stained faces.
Yoshiki hasn’t been able to catch his breath since the moment he saw the most intimate parts of ‘Hikaru’ vulnerable and exposed, his insides torn outward for all to gawk at. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever catch it again.
By force of habit, they had found their way back to Yoshiki’s home, and by then, ‘Hikaru’ had almost regained personhood. It was a return to form, the way his abstract state of being warped into the shape of something familiar, slimy tentacles creeping past one another with a sound that made Yoshiki shiver. His features had transformed into something human, and then again into something guilty, the last of the tendrils hanging from any orifice that couldn’t quite contain his monstrosity. The sheer force of his true being had torn ‘Hikaru’ open from the eye socket downward, splitting his face and revealing a mess of cables draped in deep blues and purples, dripping down onto his neck. Despite his ever-present love for the being in front of him, the sight of his best friend’s body, desecrated and inhuman, always left a sour aftertaste in the back of Yoshiki’s throat.
As if he could sense the most deeply suppressed of Yoshiki’s emotions, ‘Hikaru’ ripped away from his side, curling in on himself with a quiet groan, and Yoshiki felt the bravery that had pulled his earlier words from his throat possess him again. There would be no more hiding. He’d come too close to losing ‘Hikaru,’ and Yoshiki needs to find a thousand ways to make it up to him now.
Yoshiki smiled sweetly at ‘Hikaru’’s awkwardness, the corners of his mouth unmasking his adoration, and grabbed the boy’s hand, using his free arm to yank open his bedroom window. The old window frame shrieked and squealed, sticking to the outer walls and requiring great force to push open fully. He had left a gap just big enough to sneak through, but not enough to be noticeable to any prying eyes inside the house. The wind rustled his curtains anyway, an unwanted spotlight. As long as they remained within the village panopticon, even the wind would give them away.
‘Hikaru’ was quieter than Yoshiki had ever seen him. The two had guided one another through the open window, clinging to each other still as they collapsed onto the pillows and blankets that Yoshiki had piled up in case the front door was no longer a feasible option. They sat silently together on the bed, stuck in a cycle of shallow breaths and bursting adrenaline from their great escape. With his heart racing out of his chest, Yoshiki leaned slowly, his muscles burning from the pace, until he sat flush up against the other boy. His thigh quivered sporadically at the point of contact, still acclimating to the warm glow of casual intimacy. He was far out of his element, having spent his life thus far tugging at his own leash to prevent moments like this, but ‘Hikaru’ was audibly suppressing a whimper next to him, and Yoshiki knew how much he valued any display of affection. To his surprise, ‘Hikaru’ stiffened, and even while maintaining the closed gap between their bodies, he shut himself down, denying himself the pleasure of closeness.
For the first time in his life, Yoshiki had been released from the ever-present weight that rattled at the bars of his rib cage, seething to take hold of his fragile, beating heart. But it seemed that ‘Hikaru’ remained cloaked in shame. It was the only truly violent, monstrous thing in the room with them.
He had been through a lot today, and surely they would talk about it eventually, but for now, ‘Hikaru’’s entire form rippled with tremors, and Yoshiki couldn’t bring himself to do anything that might make the situation worse. If the state Yoshiki had found him in was anything to go by, ‘Hikaru’ had been violated, stripped of any semblance of agency, and displayed on a platter to be sacrificed, all while thinking that this was what he deserved. A familiar fear gripped Yoshiki by the heart still, a perverse reflection of the love that radiated off of himself in crashing waves, but ‘Hikaru’ has been a brave, brave thing, and it’s his turn now.
With a sigh, Yoshiki rolls over, the sheets cold against his skin from where the wind had kept the room cool for their return. He needs to be brave. He wants to do this. A lack of wanting has never been the problem.
He wraps strong arms around the trembling body next to him, breathing in the sweet scent of ‘Hikaru’’s hair, a mix of a sharp skin-smell and Yoshiki’s shampoo that he must’ve used again without asking. Yoshiki pulls the boy in, squeezing as tightly as he can for every moment that he had frantically checked his unread messages, letting his mind invent worst-case scenarios, and the image of ‘Hikaru’ chained up that he just can’t get out of his head. ‘Hikaru’ can only sniffle into his shirt and cling back.
Yoshiki had come so close to losing him today. The secondary loss might’ve been the arrow through his heart that would’ve finally killed him. First, he loses his earliest love, the one who cracked open the shell Yoshiki had been festering underneath, and brought a mirror to him for the first time. Unbeknownst to him, Hikaru had shown Yoshiki what he was, and that discovery had not been lost with the frozen, rotting body splayed out on the forest floor. And because he could never forgive himself for becoming the root of Yoshiki’s loneliness, Hikaru had made a desperate wish and dragged a brand new entity to the boy’s doorstep.
‘Hikaru’ made his skin crawl, and he touched Yoshiki in ways that made him want to scream and sob and beg for more, and for the first time in his life, Yoshiki felt his bones click into place. He could be understood, and he could be loved for who he was, and hope fluttered in front of his face like a butterfly landing on his nose, a sign from one who had passed on. The looming cloud of judgment and peering, beady eyes were the real evil, and he could run as fast as he could, hand in hand with the one he loved, and leave this place behind. Maybe love could never be wrong. Love makes you crack your window open before you leave.
The buzz of the old lamp in the corner of his room was the only sound that cut through the puff of ‘Hikaru’’s delicate breath in his ear. It casts a warm light over the boys, blanketing them from the dramatic exile that is likely to come. But the wooden floor in the hallway doesn’t creak just yet, and the inevitable angry mob hasn’t quite reached their door, so the space holds them gently and fosters the solace they desperately need.
There is the sound of rustling, and then a voice comes in quietly.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
“Yer the only one who’s ever made it easier for me to breathe!”
“I don’t care if it’s normal or not. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I love you, too. More than anything else.”
Yoshiki chuckles, pulling ‘Hikaru’ in close until his willing mouth brushes against the other boy’s ear. He can feel ‘Hikaru’ shiver. The roar of the crowd can’t swallow his words this time.
“I love you, Hikaru,” he says, “more than anything.”
A low whine slips through his cracked lips, and ‘Hikaru’ nuzzles deeper into Yoshiki’s chest. He’d make a home inside the boy if he could. ‘Hikaru’ would have swallowed him whole ages ago, tearing flesh and slurping down bones until they would become one, but he couldn’t bring himself to harm the one he loves– and the one who loves him too.
“Again,” he says.
“I love you, Hikaru.”
“Again.”
“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Yoshiki cradles ‘Hikaru’’s face, infusing his gaze with all the love in the world. ‘Hikaru’’s sweet brown puppy-dog eyes meet his own, as brightly colored tendrils sneak their way down his face, reaching desperately for Yoshiki. ‘Hikaru’ twitches suddenly, trying to pull away as the color drains from his face, and Yoshiki can feel the great wash of shame like a phantom limb. His heart breaks a little knowing ‘Hikaru’ still thinks he can’t be loved for what he is.
The tendrils swirl and wind up Yoshiki’s fingers as he wipes the tears that have trickled down the boy’s face, leaving a glimmering trail in their wake. Yoshiki can’t help but grin, a stark juxtaposition to ‘Hikaru’’s mortified expression, and he pulls at the strands to bring them closer to himself, as if he had finally caught the end of the red string of fate that brought them to this tender moment. The tendrils twist through the air, circling Yoshiki’s neck, pulling him in, and leaving behind a goopy, wet trail. It was like a magnet to the cool breeze that still rustled the curtains. Fear struck like lightning down his spine, igniting memories of empty classrooms and liminal hallways, but the shudder that ripped through Yoshiki’s body was laced with hot pleasure. ‘Hikaru’ could drop the devoted lapdog act at any point and tear him to shreds. He’d be just another tally mark on the long list of lives stolen, but Yoshiki was special, and he’d been spared. The thought made him blush.
“Yer awfully shy for someone who was just gonna destroy the whole village,” Yoshiki teases, “so pretty and shy just f’r me, and I love seein’ ya out like this.”
‘Hikaru’ whimpers, legs kicking against the sheets at nothing in particular, “Again.”
“I love you,” he says, “and I love you even when ya don’t look human. Quit bein’ afraid to show yerself to me. I love you even like this.”
He felt the slithering trail continue, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and eliciting a deep shiver that made Yoshiki mewl as he pressed himself deeper into ‘Hikaru’’s embrace. His whole body shook with the force of his worship. Yoshiki could’ve gone a lifetime without finding salvation in the arms of something revolting (and so, so right) if ‘Hikaru’ hadn’t saved him.
They breathed as one, their joint quivering forming a sweet rhythm, one that was theirs, and theirs alone.
“Again,” he said.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Hikaru. I love you.”
This version of Yoshiki, the one who held his beloved close to his chest and whispered sweet nothings, who removed his own muzzle to speak his thoughts aloud, did not exist before the sun had risen that morning. In coming face-to-face with a world without ‘Hikaru,’ Yoshiki was born again, kicking and screaming, and ready to face the world, for real this time.
It was the kind of starting over Yoshiki had always dreamed of. The image of ‘Hikaru,’ strung up on display so the same village that had denounced him could oggle in self-serving horror, had kick-started his half-frozen heart, and he had known in that moment that this was love. It made him sick to his stomach sometimes, and left him sobbing in the dead of night, clutching a pillow to his aching chest, or dry heaving on the bathroom floor, thinking about all he had lost in being born like this, but it was love, and Yoshiki would be damned if he didn’t do all he could to keep ‘Hikaru’ close.
“I love you,” he whispered, unprompted this time.
A surge of fondness nearly toppled him over, and Yoshiki pressed frantic kisses into the crown of the boy’s head, over and over. ‘Hikaru’ squirmed, his face heating up where it pressed to Yoshiki’s cheek, and he curled up around the other boy, wrapping a braid of human limbs and monstrous tendrils around Yoshiki’s slender frame. The tendrils danced upwards again, pushing Yoshiki’s hair out of his face and squishing his cheek gently, as ‘Hikaru’ peppered his face in soft kisses.
“Again,” he said.
“I love you. I love you.”
And he would tell him, again and again. He would tell him until his jaw crumbled to bits and his tongue shriveled in his mouth. He’d find a way to tell him, even then.