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“Yoshiki?”
“Hm?”
“...You liked Hikaru, didn't you?”
His body stilled. As warm as the night was, the bedsheets were suddenly unbearably cold. “...Yeah, of course. He was my best frien-”
“No, like. You liked liked him. Like, uh. Like the Yasaburou heir.”
Yoshiki was silent. I’m not sick . Or at least that's what he wanted to believe. He had the impression there were a million eyes staring at him from out the window, and another million eyes sprouting from the walls, a watermelon made only of seeds.
“Did he like you back?”
He frowned. His head hurt. There was a lot about Hikaru he would only come to learn after he died, but this, he was sure, was not one of those things. He thought back to the time when Hikaru told him to stay with him after school, and it was only the two of them in that stuffy, empty classroom. Hikaru took a magazine out of his bag, he had stolen it from a cousin or something, and wanted to show Yoshiki all the ‘naked hotties’. He tried to pretend to be interested, but couldn't help stealing glances at Hikaru’s blush, his crooked teeth biting into his lower lip in excitement. Yoshiki wished to be the one Hikaru would look at like that. But he never did. And he never would. It was wrong to think of him like that, dirty, desecrating his memory. The day Hikaru left for the mountains, when Yoshiki still didn't know he would never come back, he lied on the very bed he lay right now, and touched himself thinking about that day in the classroom, thinking about Hikaru adjusting his pants around his crotch, thinking about a lone drop of sweat licking its way down his throat and chest, into the cleavage of the open buttons of his shirt. Thinking about being the magazine, in Hikaru's slick palms, the object of his desire.
The memory made him shudder. Disgusting, he was disgusting.
“No,” he answered, turning on his side, his back towards ‘Hikaru’s voice.
Yoshiki thought that was all there was to it, but ‘Hikaru’ wasn't satisfied. Yoshiki just wanted to sleep.
“How do you tell romantic love and friendship love apart? It seems like the same thing.”
“You’re not supposed to desire your friends sexually.”
“Oh, I see.” If the cicadas outside were loud enough to drown out ‘Hikaru’s voice, maybe Yoshiki could have some peace of mind. He didn't have such luck. “Does it hurt? Not having your sexual feelings reciprocated?”
“What?”
“Y’know, like. For humans, it hurts if they don't eat for too long, and they're also unable to go too long without sleep. Is it the same with sex?”
“I- I guess. No. It's not the same. I don’t think.” Another silence, not long enough.
“Then what's masturbation for?”
“It’s, uh. ‘Cause it feels good.” He thought for a moment, the bedding rustling in the futon next to him. “Like how it felt good when I put my hand inside ya.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
A question, an evil little thing, formed in Yoshiki’s mind, its defective body infecting any other possible train of thought. He is not Hikaru. For a while, this was enough to appease the cruel longing in his chest. Blessed were the days he only felt hurt. This was somehow worse, to think that he is not Hikaru, and that thought sounding hopeful . How could he? How could he replace his best friend like that? For something so selfish? So dirty?
Disgusting. Evil.
As the question slithered its way out of him anyway, Yoshiki wanted to die. “Does it always feel good, or was it because it was me?”
He sounded small, even smaller than he felt around ‘Hikaru’.
“Hm… Well, I don't think it works like masturbation, ‘cause it doesn't feel good when I do it on myself… I ain't warm, y’know. Or, alive, I guess.”
“Would anything alive inside ya feel good, then?”
“I think…? Probably, but it wouldn't be the same.”
“I see…” He stared at the wall, unseeing. Exhaustion licked at the edges of his body and cascaded a veil of dreamlike dissociation upon almost everything in his life these days. Everything except for-
“Would it feel different for ya, too?” His voice was a bit closer, Yoshiki could imagine white hair and unnaturally red eyes peaking from the futon.
“What would?”
“If I… If Hikaru did it for you, instead of yourself.”
Yoshiki immediately pictured it. It wouldn't be the first time he allowed himself to imagine, of course. He felt the urge to hit his head against the wall.
“It… Yeah.” He answered with a sigh.
“Do ya want me to do it?”
“What…?” More rustling, and Yoshiki sat down in a single movement so quick it made his ears ring for a second. ‘Hikaru’ was already sitting, looking at him expectantly.
“I know I’m not him, but… If it would make you happy…”
Yoshiki clenched his fists. There was a distinct tightness in his throat. No . He felt like screaming. No no no no no no no no. Wrong. Disgusting. It’s not him, of course it’s not him, Hikaru would never say something like that, Hikaru wasn’t like him. Hikaru wasn’t sick like him, Hikaru would never take advantage of his body, his dead body , like that. Yoshiki was glad he wasn't Hikaru, and that terrified him more than anything.
“Yes.”
Hikaru would never agree to this.
“Really?” His eyes brightened with excitement, the same way Hikaru's would, but wrong.
“But, I… I don’t want you to be him.” It wasn't a lie, not necessarily. The monster and Hikaru were definitely completely different people. If you could call it ‘people’. But was it any better to admit he could love such a being? Would he want him as much if it used someone else's body? If it used a girl's body?
Sick
‘Hikaru’ climbed on his bed, sat in front of him cross-legged. It was awkward, and it made Yoshiki regret saying yes. The palms of his hands were slick with anxiety, anticipation building in all the wrong places.
“Yoshiki?”
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
“I…” Yoshiki lowered his gaze. He knew it didn't actually do anything to hide him, but the shadow of his hair over his eyes was always a welcome comfort. Maybe if he could honestly say no, he wouldn't feel the need to hide. Whether Hikaru or the monster, loving the person in front of him could never be right. Could ‘Hikaru’ even grasp that? “I like you.”
“I want to make you feel good.”
“O-okay.”
“I really like ya.”
“Don’t… Say those things lightly…”
“I ain't saying it lightly.” He leaned forward, clumsy hands on Yoshiki's thighs, crumpling his light blanket. Yoshiki met his eager eyes for only a moment; he wasn't strong enough to hold him up on it. “What do I do?”
His body was made entirely of shame and self-hatred.“...Do you… Have memories of when Hikaru did it?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s the same.” He swallowed. Hikaru's gaze tentatively fell on his crotch. The more this dragged itself, the worse Yoshiki felt. He could still say no. He could. He pushed the blanket away and hovered his hands on the drawstrings of his pants. Sick.
At least once, he wanted to know what it was like. To be touched, to be loved. Ever since Hikaru died, he had the unwavering notion that he would soon follow suit. The more he and ‘Hikaru’ mixed together, the more certain he was of that. He would become a monster one way or another.
Pulling the drawstrings was like sealing a pact. This was happening now. He was already hard.
“Woah,” ‘Hikaru’ murmured when Yoshiki pulled down his pants and underwear in a single motion. His face burned. “Cute…”
Yoshiki wanted to cry.
“Ah-!” He brought his hand to his mouth and bit down hard. If his mom or his sister heard them, he might as well kill himself.
“Sorry- Did I hurt ya?” ‘Hikaru’ murmured, retrieving his hand.
“Just- Be gentler…”
“Alright.” ‘Hikaru’ took him in hand again, gentler this time, his hold almost slack.
“You can… Move yer hand up and down…” Yoshiki said from between his fingers. ‘Hikaru’ was definitely bad at it. He'd probably never masturbated before, all he had were vague recollections of how Hikaru did it. It made Yoshiki feel even worse, it felt like taking advantage. It made him no less aroused, and even ‘Hikaru’s clumsy movements could probably get him there. He was so desperate, it was embarrassing.
“Can I put it in my mouth?”
“H-huh?!”
“I, uh. I saw a manga where a guy did it to another guy. Ah, Hikaru saw. Is that a thing gay guys…? Is that a thing ya want to do?”
“I- I never-”
“Yer dick just got harder,” ‘Hikaru’ said, a devious smile on his lips he only ever saw on Hikaru when he was about to get them in trouble. The watermelon seeds on the walls were all laughing at him. “So can I?”
“Why?” It was a double edged sword, and a useless question. Sweat pooled slowly on the back of Yoshiki’s neck.
“I wanna taste ya.” I wanna eat ya. Consume ya.
He was going to pass out. “Okay.”
‘Hikaru’ leaned in, and Yoshiki buried both hands in his hair, halting. The short strands were of a spikey softness so characteristic to Hikaru's being, they were each a white thorn in his palms.
“Wait. Please don’t use yer teeth,” he murmured shamefully. ‘Hikaru’ nodded, but Yoshiki didn't let him go yet. “I’m scared.”
“I won’t hurt ya.” It wasn't what scared him. But he'd come too far to step back now. His dick was already leaking in ‘Hikaru’s hand, and his morals were not that strong.
He eased his hold on ‘Hikaru’s hair, watching as his head went down between his legs. He exhaled sharply, hands grasping but unable to do more than that, neither pull him in or push him away. It was immediately too much, warm and wet and Hikaru’s tongue on him, it was wrong , and disgusting, and wonderful. He didn’t know if what was pooling in his lower stomach was terror or pleasure.
‘Hikaru’ was gentle, groping his thighs clumsily but lovingly, his brows knit with focus. He took him in slowly but surely, the entire thing in his mouth. He doesn’t have to breathe. Yoshiki was near hyperventilating, very audible in the very quiet room. He prayed the cicadas could drown out his sin.
There was a scrape of teeth, and he hissed. It sounded like something his throat should never be able to produce. ‘Hikaru’ pulled away carefully.
“My bad, this’ tough… You alright?” ‘Hikaru’ slurred. His lips were plump and his cheeks were flushed and his eyes half lidded. “Ya all red-”
His lips were warm, too, and salty. Was that how he tasted like? It couldn’t be pleasant. It was on ‘Hikaru’s tongue, though. Yoshiki had never kissed anyone before, and he didn’t know anything besides the blind hold he had on ‘Hikaru’s head and licking desperately into his mouth. ‘Hikaru’ didn’t seem much more experienced, although just as eager, a muffled noise coming from him, an echo of Yoshiki's own quiet moans. ‘Hikaru’ touched his dick again and he gasped, his heart pounding in his ears, desperation growing between them alarmingly fast, his head spinning. Something was coming.
One of his hands slipped down from ‘Hikaru’s hair, searching for his shirt; as he gripped his collar, his wrist brushed against something cold, and ‘Hikaru’ let out a noise so sudden and loud it frightened them both. Then everything was stagnant.
Yoshiki looked down at ‘Hikaru’s chest, a discontinued motion, and watched with equal fascination and distress as ‘Hikaru’ leaked from the slit open just beneath his neck.
“‘m sorry…” He looked like he was about to cry. “...feels good.”
He trickled down the slim opening, small, liquidy tentacles tentatively moving closer to Yoshiki. Disgusting . He swallowed, and reached back. He and the Devil were one. ‘Hikaru’s insides were impossibly cold, slimy and of a wet tangibleness almost surreal to the touch. ‘Hikaru’ let out a small whine. He slithered up Yoshiki's arm, rubbing sensually, pulling him in, tantalizing. Yoshiki dipped his fingers in.
“Y-Yoshiki… Ah…” He couldn't think. Selfish distraction idled ‘Hikaru’s hands, and Yoshiki felt so frantic he thought he might throw up.
“Touch me…‘Hikaru’...” he whispered, a part of him hoping it'd get lost within the cloggy night air, but ‘Hikaru’ made an effort to resume his stroking.
“Hah… How d’ya think it'll feel if ya stick yer dick in me?”
Yoshiki froze. His entire body grew aflame with shame. There was so much noise in his ears.
“You mean… In yer…?”
“Oh, ya wanna? It was a joke.”
“Ah…”
‘Hikaru’ smiled, and his insides tightened around Yoshiki’s hand. There was a pair of enlarged red pupils within ‘Hikaru’s eyes, a hungry animal.
“Ain’t it like fucking?”
“Don’t make jokes at a time like this…”
“Ya wanna try it?”
“I-” ‘Hikaru’ slithered to Yoshiki's stomach, up his thighs, down his navel. “Wait, wait,” he flinched, his voice cracking.
“Do ya wanna stop?”
Yes. Please no.
Selfish. Disgusting. Sick.
Yoshiki shook his head. “Just… Wait.” He took a deep breath. Was he actually about to do that? It'd probably feel weird. ‘Hikaru’s insides were cold. And wet and tight. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. “Lean back.”
‘Hikaru’ did, releasing Yoshiki and moving back. His tentacles spread around the opening in his chest, almost… Inviting. Like a…
“Don’t shape it like that…!” Yoshiki was on his knees now, and his body felt so heavy it made him dizzy.
“Thought you’d like it better if it looked like a human’s…”
“It’s weird. This is weird.”
‘Hikaru’ waited, stared at him expectantly. All his life, Yoshiki waited for Hikaru. He'd take Yoshiki by the hand and decide what they were going to play that day. He'd decide what they'd do after school, Yoshiki’d wait for Hikaru to answer for both of them when someone invited them for a hang out. ‘Hikaru’ lied beneath him now, waiting. The shadow of Yoshiki's overcast desire loomed over them, doomsday. This was final, accumulated dark rain after too much time of sun.
Entering ‘Hikaru’s chest was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and probably like nothing he'd ever feel. Penetrating would be the right word, but it was filthy and obscene and gave the wrong idea. He moved forward and ‘Hikaru’ moaned loud, too loud, and before the sound was completely out of his lips, Yoshiki clasped a sweaty palm over his mouth. ‘Hikaru’ mumbled something halfheartedly, an apology maybe, an excuse, Yoshiki was not listening regardless. He pushed, his arms and legs shaking with effort and fear, he was terrified.
It feels so good. I'm disgusting.
‘Hikaru’s insides made a revolting sound, they wrapped around Yoshiki, around his cock and around his arms, his torso, the tentacles grew around him and pushed him impossibly deeper.
It feels so good it feels so good it feels so good
Yoshiki panted, wet and melting, euphoria beginning to take his hands and guide his hips. Something human touched his face, so strangely odd from everything else, tender and warm against his cheek, his lips, his chin. He was starting to feel numb from his waist down, he distantly realized, all concrete perception of feeling giving way to a vague and all consuming sense of good , raw pleasure too unreal to understand, right and wrong, cold and warm, inhumanly warm, nauseating.
‘Hikaru’ slithered up his neck, his fingers and his disturbing essence a single conjoined being, and both entered Yoshiki, in turn, through his mouth and nostrils, cold and slick and luscious, painful like scrapped knees in a heated playfight, ice cream in a sore throat.
Yoshiki whimpered around the thing in his mouth when ‘Hikaru’ slithered in his backside, too. It felt like crossing a line, a violation somehow, if this entire thing wasn't already against God and nature, and if it didn't feel so good.
Disgusting faggot.
‘Hikaru’ moved inside him and he moved inside ‘Hikaru’, closer and tied together, everything around him body parts and the mass of ‘Hikaru’s being.
“Yoshiki… Yoshiki…!” He heard ‘Hikaru’s voice, desperate and small and not really a sound, it made shudder every inch of skin where they were connected, everywhere, Yoshiki felt him everywhere, in his gut and his brain and his heart, and then everything shook, blindingly delicious, the strongest orgasm he had ever experienced, or something close to it.
When he could breathe again, there was something stuck inside his throat. He gasped and coughed and scratched his neck until the thing dislodged and came out, a wriggling piece of ‘Hikaru’ on the damp bedsheets.
“Ya okay?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, a hand, human, light on his shoulder. Yoshiki's entire body hurt, cold and humid, his bangs sticking to his forehead. He must have lost something, ‘cause ‘Hikaru’s chest was no longer open, and his dick, he checked, was still attached to him. ‘Hikaru’ sat by his side and eyed him carefully, his hair also a bit wet. “Yer bleeding.” He pointed at Yoshiki's nose.
“Ah…” He rubbed the back of his hand under his nose and, yes, he was bleeding a bit.
He lied back down. The bed was gross, he was gross. He wheezed with every breath, the up and down of his chest ached. His skin did not feel his own, and as regret and shame welled up within him like a full blown punch to his face, he felt cold.
Disgusting
He wanted to cry.
“Yoshiki?” ‘Hikaru’ murmured.
“‘m fine.”
He lied down beside him. Yoshiki couldn't bear looking at his face. He hoped and prayed exhaustion would take him soon, he could sleep for two days and still it did not seem enough.
‘Hikaru’ held his hand.
“Didn’t like it?”
“...Hurts.”
“We ain't doing it again.”
Knowing himself, he'd probably want to, after the guilt passed. His skin tingled pleasantly where ‘Hikaru’ touched him, and it was the only bit of himself he could feel at all now, the edge where he and ‘Hikaru’ mixed.
“Yoshiki?”
He enlaced their fingers together, a mockery of romance.
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
“I like you.”
“More than you liked him?”
It sounded distant and childlike. Maybe Yoshiki dreamed it.