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It was another autumn day, Yoshiki kicked rocks along his stroll down the winding path of charcoal pavement; aligning towards a satisfyingly crunchy leaf every once and a while. A dog leash tugged him along, binding and constricting his wrist as on the other end was the canine that had been the one walking him. It was a border collie of an auburn brown and black, seemingly in its element and belonging with the season of fall.
A sharp yank pulled his arm, causing him to stumble a foot forward quicker than his pace. Yoshiki’s brows ledged close to his eyes, annoyance etching his mind as this was talked up to be enjoyable but really was just an embarrassment. He wouldn’t even be here right now if Kaoru didn’t beg and plead all summer for the mutt, the promise of her to take care of it biting him in the ass since he got dragged into it.
He didn’t consider himself a dog person, what even was the appeal? Drool dripping onto your clothes and stinky breath that burns your nostrils? All just so you can own something that listens to you?
Yoshiki scoffs, grip tightening around his phone in his unoccupied hand.
Cats were more enjoyable in his opinion. You have to work for their trust which makes their loyalty mean something more than just roll over. Even then, they still remain as mysteriously unpredictable as they are unyielding. Maybe that was just his bitterness talking, not like he hadn’t been asking for a feline for as long as he could remember—all for Kaoru to get this hydrant peeing tyrant the second she whined loud enough. Yoshiki supposes there are similarities between the two, attention seeking dogs bent on what they want and his sister, that is.
He awakens from his day doze when he bumps into someone, toppling backwards and landing roughly with his hands behind himself. The collie barks before quickly retreating its confidence into a whimpering mewl, Yoshiki’s expression furrows. He squints as he looks up, soft rays peaking through the cracks of foliage that minorly blind Yoshiki. A figure stands over him, almost unnaturally shadowed by the tree as if its stature was purposefully blocking the orange sunlight from touching the stranger.
“Jeez man, sorry about that.” They bashfully reach their hand forward, retracting it with a jump when the collie works up a bark from where it cowers behind Yoshiki.
“Zip it, mutt.” He pushes off the ground with a short struggle of momentum, muttering irritably as he lightly dusts off his pants.
The stranger chuckles in a way that has him looking up, “You talking to me or the dog?” Their head tilts when they reopen their eyes, something glinting in them that has Yoshiki unable to look away. His teeth clench, light beams disappearing with the lowering sun that leaves the scene cold.
“Sorry,” he quickly turns his head after breaking his probable stare, “wah-?” His palms pat his pockets with growing frantic motions, the boy in front of him crouches with an extended arm that has the collie growling despite the distance.
“I think you dropped this, probably what gotcha all in a panic—ah heck,” he flips Yoshiki’s phone in his hand and brings the screen closer towards his face, “think I cracked it.” Yoshiki glances down, grabbing and assessing it himself. He haphazardly stuffs the otherwise piece of junk into his jacket, “S’ fine, wasn’t paying attention when I was walking anyways.”
Just when he prepares to forget the interaction and walk off, the stranger speaks again. “What’s its name?” He kneels with a toothy smile, completely occupied with looking at the dog that was completely occupied with backing away. “Or was it whatcha said earlier, Mutt?” The brunette boy looks up to him and Yoshiki’s stomach silently jumps in either caution or enticement.
“D-uh, Dan—do… Dune? Dune, I think.” He scratches the back of his neck as the boy quirks a brow. His skin prickles with lifting hairs, “Sister’s dog,” he mumbles.
They reach a hand that is once again quickly returned due to a loud bark, defeat washes over their posture before they stand up. The both of them lock eyes and the boy quickly coaxes his expression with a breezy smile, “Heh, expected that.”
Yoshiki’s lids barely squint with a scrutinizing tick.
“Just cause you’re an animal guy doesn’t mean they’ll like you back.”
Yoshiki’s gaze shifts back to the dog which had been unusually leaning into his leg and releasing almost soundless noises; the corner of his lip twitches in particularly no direction. They remain standing closer than before their attempt of contact with the collie, a gust of wind breezing by and lazily dragging windchimes somewhere in the distance.
“You didn’t say your name,” Yoshiki’s grip on the leash becomes a fraction firmer, “ya got one or not?” Something in the stranger’s face narrows by a hair at his remark.
“Ah.” Another breeze, “S’ Dan.”
They’re both quiet for a moment.
“Now I'm realizing, kinda weird to ask your dog’s and not yours?”
It's a soft request, innocent.
Yoshiki stares blankly, no giveaway to any current thought process. He tilts his head downwards, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. His unkempt bangs blanket over his face as a concealing curtain, the other waits almost with anticipation.
A small upturn of his lip is given, “Nope.”
Through the grown frigidness of his limbs, he then casually walks his intended path in which the collie for once briskly listens. “Wha-” They trip over a jagged crack in the pavement to chase after him, “Wait!” Side by side, desperation visibly claws at their skin while Yoshiki carries on as though a fly was buzzing in his ear. “Let me at least pay ya’ back in some way for what I did to your phone.”
“Cut the crap,” Yoshiki bites with a sharp dismissive hand as the leash strains harder, “I know it's you, Hikaru.” The person stops but he pays no mind, continuing despite his fastening heart rate. He hears a sort of exhale that would spike anyone else's nerves, he rolls his eyes at himself before sparring a look.
As though splattered blood, a colorful metallic liquid molds from the skin costume. At this point, Yoshiki’s arm was about to rip out of his socket because of how hard the dog was trying and begging to get away–so much for loyalty. Each tendril seems to hungrily reach out another direction from what used to be the head as if yearning, slowing into a more controlled manner and finally casting into that familiar face.
White locks peek out, shining eyes returning of which practically scream of despair and want. A childish frown plastered as if he were about to cry. What a brat.
“Shiki’... I'm sorry, come back please.” Hikaru takes a step forward, hand pointedly low even as he tries to be closer to him.
The angles in his face become stern with skepticism despite the neutrality he keeps as a front. “Just now you tried to trick me,” he states blankly, “don’t seem like much time for reflection.”
Just as he turns to move on, Hikaru hastily tries again. “I-I know! And-and—I’ve been reflecting-before!” Hikaru sputtered. “I'm sorry,” slowing his words this time with sincerity, “I can’t help it with you.” He came forward slightly, holding his hands to his chest as if to restrain himself. “I just want to have you so badly, any way I can. I know-I know that it's bad–that I'm bad.”
Yoshiki wants to bang his skull against the nearest brick wall, Hikaru had just tried to take ownership over him for crying out loud. The debate in his mind is cut short when something suddenly snaps, recoiling and slapping against his arm as the dog sprints away. Yoshiki slips backwards, this time getting caught by arms at an inhuman speed before he could fall on his ass a second time.
With a puff, he blows a stray hair from his vision which allows him sight of the fleeing animal. Hikaru’s solid stature holds him protectively from behind, hooking him by the armpits. He can feel a secretive pulsating thread softly caress behind his ear as though he wasn’t supposed to notice, Yoshiki’s jaw tightens when it carefully twirls a strand of his locks—right, the dog.
“Damnit,” he spits out with an irritated hiss.
Yoshiki’s frosted nose sniffled in an attempt to keep it from leaking, the sun was out of sight yet there was the last bit of the day lingering. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, an attempt to preserve the remaining warmth before they go completely brittle. Hikaru kicked piles of leaves next to him, almost brushing his shoulder every now and then as if to soften Yoshiki’s displeasure at this inconvenience.
It probably wasn’t the best idea, straying from the pathway at this hour with the walking piece of folklore. Trees that held plenty of space between one another watched them carefully, enough distance to not necessarily be considered a forest. What was once soft kisses of the breeze had turned into warning bites and nibbles against his exposed skin, breath just faintly visible.
He watched the ghostly appearing puff drift in a direction that turned his gaze to the true apparition, observing the area around Hikaru’s nose in which the air didn’t turn icy like his. Two scarlet dots glance to Yoshiki, the scenery dark enough to make the faint glow pop.
“You said he went this way,” he vaguely quizzed while fixating back ahead. Hikaru tried to chase after his peripheral for a moment, returning closer to his side. The ground of littered leaves that blew opposite to them seemed to unusually stretch further onwards, enticing any fool to follow it. The raven haired boy lets out a single reserved scoff.
“Yup,” he pops his lips at the end of the word, “can smell the rascal.” Hikaru kicked another pile which quickly drifted forth the toe of his shoe at the encouraging lift and shifting wind, Yoshiki notices. He lets out a small sound of acknowledgement, making a minor motion of his boot to the ground in which the litter blows to the right. He tries again after a couple more steps, fluttering this time behind.
Yoshiki completely stops in his tracks.
“Really?” It comes out bold despite being almost a whisper disguised by the directionally confused wind. It takes a short moment until Hikaru halts too, half turning to look back at him.
The red intensifies slightly, two pin pricks staring like a deer faced with headlights, or more so a predator caught off guard in the night. His expression is painfully stone as he stares at Yoshiki, his body rising to an alerted state. Yoshiki’s gut clenches slightly, anxiety rolling over and over like one of the bland pinwheel decorations in front of his neighbor’s house.
“Must be a bit hard,” his hands nervously clenched in their confinement, “with this wind n’ all.”
The corner of Hikaru’s lips upturned subtly, an almost desolate noise of amusement leaving him. The bottoms of his shoes crack the orange and brown blades underneath when he rotates to fully face Yoshiki, arms limp at his sides.
Yoshiki didn't want to wholeheartedly admit it yet, but he was unsure if he still knew the way back. It was too dark now, having let Hikaru lead him on longer than he intended; up until this point he hadn't really thought about what he would do about the dog either.
He fully smiles with his crooked and sharp canines, cheeks not quite meeting his eyes.
“That keen head of yours makes it real hard to keep still, y’know.”
Human or not human fizzled Yoshiki’s instinctual mind muscles, the middle ground of uncanny creeping its way as the answer. The apple in his neck quivers like a fishing bob, an undeniably enticing as bewildering apprehension acting as the waves.
Hikaru chuckles in a softly low tone, “Don’t worry, Dune’s all safe n’ cozy at home.”
Yoshiki spurs a breath.
Shit.
He kicks off to the side in an impulsive sprint, hair gusting from his forehead as he pumps his arms for more speed. A pant escapes rhythmically with each springing leap, eyes wide despite their burning begging for him to blink. Night has fallen, yet the crickets remained ever so silent.
Rough steps thud along with his heart, cursing as he weaves around and through trees that don’t contain enough coverage of his trail of which he attempts to make confusing. He doesn’t think Hikaru is close behind, or Yoshiki just doesn’t hear him. Even if the wind was not in favor of the hunter, he still had his scent trail regardless of how difficult it would be to track.
The hem of his jacket ripples behind, a sort of compression growing heavier with each fall of his chest. Something unusual sparks in the endings of his nerves, new and almost elastic in the stiff comparison of the cold; he shakes his head to rattle the thought, probably just a form of adrenaline. Yoshiki’s legs feel as though they harden, causing him to quickly duck behind a trunk and allow time for his lungs to catch up.
His torso folds over, frail fingers gripping his knees as tight as the numbness allows them to be. Everything starts to steadily slow, giving him a moment to close his eyes. A snap forces him upright, back against the tree and eyes alert.
Yoshiki attempts to hastily sneak by, but is pulled back from his caught hood. His hands instinctually reach and grip the collar to pull away, the cool metal of the zipper nipping against his skin. Urgently, he grasps it between two nimble fingers and yanks downwards. Unbinding his arms from the sleeves, he staggers forward like a bird with clipped wings.
The moon crisply embraces what is now revealed to its touch, Yoshiki tries to not think about how long he could manage this state of surrender towards it. Far abandoned, the cloth will only aid in his capture. Something in the sky cracks with a wail, the night possibly jealous that soon its possession over him would have to be shared.
Trickles that barely have any time to be calm swiftly turn into a fierce pouring, rain lands and drips from the crown of his head. Yoshiki’s hair begins to flatten, sticking to his forehead as he endlessly dashes. Soon enough, he's already cowering behind another tree.
There is a constant shiver in his bones that was only bearable with the unceasing chase, movement being the only factor at this point keeping him from turning into an ice sculpture. The score was even, Hikaru had been given a tool to find him more easily, but the clouds favored Yoshiki with heavy rain to dilute his smell.
An almost comically audible sniff is heard and Yoshiki’s face contorts a smudge, risking a peak. There's a considerable distance where Hikaru stands, jacket held up with his face nuzzled into it. Yoshiki’s stomach swoops.
Hell no.
The first inhale of hope is given when remembering his phone, the crappy one that had been quadruple passed down from honestly who knows. It was only able to call, sometimes message, and the map app on it probably works but right now, probably really seems to be more than okay.
His hands take a double voyage to the pockets of his pants on his sides, halting at the flatness. Fraughtly, they travel backwards and cup the pockets there, only for them to be fake anyways.
“Hm?”
Yoshiki already assumes the worst with Hikaru’s genuine sound of curiosity. He watches with one eye as the considerably more drenched boy’s hand disappears into the cloth pouch of the jacket, turning away quickly when he moves his find upwards to examine it.
“Oh.”
Even with how far Yoshiki was, he knew without a doubt there was a cheshire beam stretched across Hikaru lips.
“It seems you’re missin’ a lil’ something here, ‘Shiki.” Yoshiki’s teeth grit, thumping his head.
Of course it was the goddamned phone.
There's a giddy giggle throughout the stillness of the woods.
A giggle.
Was he… enjoying this?
That sets Yoshiki off balance from his usual straightforward thought process.
Of course he’d enjoy it. Just like how any serial killer would because if not then why do it at all?
Except, he doesn't want to kill Yoshiki.
…Right?
The tree bark teethes at the bare of his neck, nails scraping back while his palms manage a sweat. The rate of his heart picks up, but something about it this time is different. It’s strange. Instead of pounding, it's more of a fluttering—why, what is going on?
His eyes ping pong his surroundings, anticipation for if and where Hikaru might pop out. Yoshiki’s head is turned, the side of it laying against the tree like the rest of his body. So focused on assessing shadowed shapes and what might be what, he doesn’t realize the small open mouthed grin that had formed, allowing for his heaved breath to flow more unboundedly.
It falls as quick as he realizes it, furrowing his brows and lifting a hand to hover his lips as though feeling for damage. Disgust towards himself tries to shield his dignity, the facade miserably failing its purpose.
Awareness floods through that in some freakish way, he was just about as bad as Hikaru in this.
A pattering fills his skull’s space, drowning out his mind and granting himself a breath of just pure silence. Maybe Hikaru gave up, maybe not. The suspicious quiet allowed thoughts to linger with more clarity as though being cleaned by the rain.
Hikaru, run, hide,
Hikaru, breathe, faster, don't get caught,
Hikaru, stay still,
Hikaru, don’t make noise,
Hikaru, taunt me,
Hikaru, escape,
Hikaru,
Hikaru, find me,
Hikaru,
Hikaru—
Hikaru was right in front of him.
Water trailed down his face, not a single flinch as they dripped from the lashes belonging to the starving eyes that appeared to be trying to swallow him whole from just staring. Like someone who knew their shoelaces were tied, Yoshiki freezes and his mind spins as though a twisted direction sign—run.
His body slides to the side against the rough rigid texture of the trunk behind him, surely scraping the backs of his arms as his legs spur him on once more. A pressure grips the wrist of the limb behind himself, painfully twisting him back and shoving him by the chest to the tree. Scrunching his brows, a dull pang thunders from the back of his head while a throb persists in the wrist that was now pinned above.
Yoshiki’s lids flutter, pupils lagging with the droplets sweeping across his adjusting vision. His form slackens except for the defiant lift of his head, the weight pushing against his ribs hesitates before lightening to a feather soft touch. He blinks rapidly, recollecting himself and looking down his nose at Hikaru whose predatory luminosity quickly disperses.
“I… I didn’t—no… I’m—I didn’t mean…” His once possessive lean over Yoshiki backs away slightly, Hikaru’s brows stress upwards and knit close together in a kicked puppy look as though Yoshiki wasn’t the one with the possible concussion. The hand clutching his wrist subconsciously grips harder with the spiral, he groans at the pressure.
That seems to quickly shut up anything weaving through Hikaru’s train of thought, Yoshiki has the urgency to squirm like a worm on a hook when they both just share eye contact. The white haired boy takes a slow almost cautionary glance downwards between their space, gaze returning with that familiar low lit crimson. He inches closer, a ghostly breath hitting the shell of Yoshiki’s ear with a soft warmth that has him wanting to reach for it like a lonely malnutritioned sunflower.
“You like this.”
An oil slick snake slithers past the angle of his jaw, the slimy texture making him shiver apart from the reasons of the temperature. Yoshiki knows his cheeks betray him with a worsening flush as Hikaru’s thumb shifts to fit in the valley of his palm, digging into the meat.
Rain droplets partition them when he leans away just enough to examine his face, Yoshiki basks in the transition of heat with Hikaru’s closeness.
“You know,” he conceals a whine with a choked cough when he feels a knee press near between his legs, “no one will hear anything this far out.”
More pressure.
“Wonder if they even know you’re gone.”
Yoshiki can see it, Kaoru picking at her food with disinterest while the damp dog begs for a bite. Mom sitting nearby, maintaining a dim smile at her husband's absence; both probably assuming Yoshiki was already in his room like all the other times.
His thighs subconsciously tensed, clamping Hikaru where he fit. The contact of their jeans was damp, soiled from the tears of the sky and disguising what Yoshiki otherwise wouldn’t have wanted to acknowledge. There was a twisted fondness in Hikaru’s eyes where they fixated a bit upwards from his own, spare thumb reaching and swiping at one of the beads of rain he felt making its way down his forehead.
“So pretty like this ‘Shiki,” deep down in his system there was a spike at that, “can’t help but think… for me.” When Hikaru retracted, there was color where the liquid distributed over the pad of his finger. The last time he checked, clouds didn’t bleed.
He absently stared, confused as to why he wasn’t more concerned. Yoshiki’s breath hitched when the same thumb was brought to Hikaru’s lips and coaxed over with his savoring tongue. A sound of pleasure left the boy as though it was the first meal he’d had in days, popping the whole finger into his mouth.
Yoshiki moaned, shifting himself against the propped leg. The last thing he saw were two bright crimson lights before a strong hand tangled and gripped into his hair, forcing him still as Hikaru crashed his mouth onto his. He winced, sharp teeth hitting him with the misjudgment of alignment. The affected spots pulsed, quickly licked clean once Hikaru tasted the blood.
The oral muscle advanced further into the seal of his lips in which Yoshiki was finally able to properly reciprocate, slacking his jaw slightly to let his own into the dance. A strand slips past the corner of his mouth, metallic substance knotting itself around Yoshiki’s tongue and filling. He gasps, whether for air or because of something else, he wouldn’t admit.
The fingers of his pinned hand flex and curl, poking needles spreading throughout with numbness in addition to the cold. Panicked breaths escape from his nose once air is no longer able to leave his occupied mouth, Hikaru continues making soft noises when the tendrils squirm further into his esophagus.
The walls contract around him with a cough from Yoshiki, tears brimming his eyes at the violation to his gag reflex. Hikaru's knee lifts further up into him as though a reward, making Yoshiki inhale a surprised yet pleased breath accidentally through the wrong way and coughing more around him.
It was disgusting.
He felt like one of those turkeys that were stuffed with filling, only being devoured by the one person who actually liked the taste.
It was dangerous.
Yet, he’s never been so turned on, if at all, by anything in his life.
A dark blur made an appearance in the corners of his vision, a pressure evident behind his eyes that he couldn’t help having major distress towards as it was outweighed by bliss on the scale. Almost on its own, his body was making small forwards and backwards movements led by the rolls of his hips. It was dehumanizing, using someone else as a tool—a toy for personal satisfaction as he was with Hikaru’s thigh.
At some point, Hikaru had backed away and opened a vertical slit across his throat, the source of the thick rope that had been gagging Yoshiki. His hand redirects with Hikaru’s controlling hold from its place against the tree, brought to the cut. It’s released, giving Yoshiki the free will to do what he will with the insinuation.
The skin around it stutters as though in anticipation at what he might do. Hesitantly, he urges through. It's cold at first, a different type than that of what Yoshiki was already feeling, no words to explain it. Maybe he’d say, as stupid as it sounds, a paranormal sort of chill.
Testingly, he clenches around a particularly squishy part, a squelch releasing with the slipperiness. Hikaru suddenly almost seems to go cross eyed, hunching closer and deepening their exposure. A ring in his ears dulls the earthly sounds surrounding them as Yoshiki further experiments with twirls and thrusts.
The knee in return starts moving for him to make up for the stillness, Yoshiki sinks into it which presses a delightful spot. He whines around the spill of Hikaru’s insides that had slowed their advancements, possibly stopped altogether and were just pumping in place.
A sudden specific jerk upwards into Yoshiki’s crotch after deepening into a knobbed spot within Hikaru’s sensible fleshy insides had Yoshiki tense and slack jawed; unable to tell if the horrifyingly whining sound he thought he heard was truly from him.
“Keep—ah,” Hikaru whimpers when blunt nails find the spot again, “n-yeah, agh—just—just like that… ye—hah—yes.” Yoshiki internally gives up on trying to hide it when an uncharacteristic mewl slides from his throat, encouraged by Hikaru’s own noises and fastening his assault to the button.
His own body felt otherworldly, light and almost vacant from himself. Like a machine, he continuously lifted and lowered himself against and away from Hikaru’s thigh that then learned to meet him halfway. It felt like the process of rigor mortis, an already dead corpse moving out of its voluntary control.
Off to the side, there was a translucent white across the edges of his sight that caught his attention, similar to a polaroid that dealt with the effects of overexposure. Slamming them shut, he moaned with his gut when Hikaru adjusted his leg’s inclination.
“Agh—oh-oh my—Hik-Hikaru.” It was taxing to speak, more brokenly quiet and pained than expected, which he was, but also very much pleased. The light was consistent even with closed lids, growing and blinding over his vision. Any further input in his ears was pitched, abnormally multiplied and excruciating.
Something tightened in his chest along the throbbing of many other places, good or bad, heart straining to pump. It compulsorily slowed its rhythm, caged in the way that felt as though it wanted to go faster but was restrained. There was then an unexpected clench, Hikaru standing and watching the slightest twitches of Yoshiki’s frigid face with an awed expression.
There was a maniacal dilating to his pupils, a smile stretched far wide even for his own face, a distant yet so observant look. “You’re—I’ve finally—your heart,” a remnant breath of Hikaru’s vibrating frame is released, “you’re finally mine, ‘Shiki.”
The intensity of the octave of which his voice spoke knocked the air from his lungs, paired with an eardrum shrill that shouted away any thoughts. Years of files deleted with just one click, everything was forced blank except for the body racking wave bounding through his gut. It snapped and recoiled so harshly that it not only pushed, but threw him off that edge. With what he could, his whole being tensed with it, before slumping like a ragged doll.
Hikaru’s fingers lingered and hovered, retracting his molten entirely at his conclusion before tenderly tucking a soaked strand behind the still boy’s ear. His gaze flickered to the once soft velvety pink lips, now a pale ghostly purple and cracked in minuscule fissures. A hum found itself echoing the silent space as he made work to wrap the jacket around Yoshiki’s shoulders.
There was no fight, no resistance whatsoever as he pressed to the vulnerable side of his wrist, a soft tug pulling his mouth at the results. Like it was nothing, he lifted his possession where the nooks of his shape fit into the crooks of his arms. Rain slowed to a melancholy pace as he straightened his posture, taking an assessing glance around before landing on the brightened notification bar of the fallen phone’s screen.
10:21 PM
Mom:
Left overs in fridge, dont forget eating them again
He stared blankly for a moment, craning his neck in adjustment at the entailment. While turning and walking off in a direction, a marble stone cold arm slipped and dangled. It moved along with each step as Hikaru carried him bridal style, the device showing his mother’s concern being abandoned and soon covered in litter by a gust.
He’d be home soon enough.