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“Ya need to get used to it,” “Hikaru” said, as the line on his bare chest lengthened.
Yoshiki opened his mouth to ask why, but then "Hikaru" hooked a finger in the growing black slit and tugged his skin to the side, revealing more of the writhing nothingness inside him.
Hair standing on end, Yoshiki stepped towards "Hikaru," the noise dull against the vinyl storeroom flooring. Immediately, he wanted to retreat, but he felt compelled to take another step forward.
They’d done this a few times—once on accident; the other times, on purpose, just to see what it felt like. Yoshiki still thought it felt weird, but maybe he was getting addicted to weird. He swallowed as he once again wondered what might happen if he let "Hikaru’s" instincts win out.
“What’s got you makin’ such a funny face, huh? You been lookin’ forward to this?”
“It ain’t funny, so quit jokin’ around,” Yoshiki snapped.
"Hikaru" made a surprised noise, and schooled his own teasing expression.
Yoshiki reached out his arm and gently inserted his hand into the slit that ran from "Hikaru’s" bottom lip all the way down to his belly button. With the first slip of "Hikaru’s" insides against his fingertips, Yoshiki shuddered, every instinct telling him to run, get out of there, survive—!
But there was another instinct that overrode his biological drive to live.
Yoshiki reached up, towards that place that made "Hikaru" coo and twitch, and pushed; "Hikaru" gasped, like he’d just discovered something wonderful. His next breath was a moan that had Yoshiki’s face heating.
So Yoshiki pushed again, letting "Hikaru’s" insides slip through his fingers, and suddenly, a thick, black arm of whatever the hell "Hikaru" was wrapped around Yoshiki’s arm and began pulling.
“Yoshiki, Yoshiki,” "Hikaru" panted, “Be gentle, would ya?”
Yoshiki nodded, but squeezed the part of "Hikaru" that was in his hand. "Hikaru" squealed, then pitched forward, and his insides flew outward when Yoshiki’s body stopped his fall, almost like when someone caught a tilting bookshelf, and all its contents spewed out onto the floor making a huge mess.
This was going to be a huge mess, Yoshiki remembered thinking, right before "Hikaru’s" insides swallowed him up.
Inside "Hikaru" was Yoshiki’s favorite place in the world to be—
No, that was wrong, "Hikaru’s" insides were gross, and weird, and Yoshiki was only doing this because "Hikaru" said he needed to—
And yet, there was nowhere else on earth where Yoshiki felt this calm. In no other environment could he simply stop thinking.
Who cared if it was weird? Who cared if it was gross? Yoshiki was free. Nothing else mattered except that "Hikaru" was cradling him, protecting him, and allowing Yoshiki to simply exist as he was. Guarding Yoshiki even against the poison in his own head.
Yoshiki liked being like this. Yoshiki liked being with "Hikaru."
Yoshiki was a freak, and it was…fine.
Nothing else mattered.
He’d definitely feel weird about this if "Hikaru" remembered not to eat him. All the fears and paranoia would come flooding back in the second he left "Hiakru’s" side: he was too obvious, he was going to be found out, everyone would know.
But for the moment, with squishy, cold, indescribable parts of "Hikaru" flooding his mouth, his nose, his ears, his skin, Yoshiki gave himself over to it, and let himself exist without humanity. Floating on wave after wave of "Hikaru," Yoshiki’s breath grew long and deep.
It was easy to lose track of time inside "Hikaru," when each moment felt like an eternity, and yet somehow blended together into nothing. And unlike the last time "Hikaru" had touched him back, he wasn’t overcome with memories or anxieties from his own world or "Hikaru’s." All there was, was nothing. Yoshiki was vaguely aware that his heart was slowing; it was the only sounds he could hear after all, but it was hard to care when there was so much to feel and so little to think—and then he heard "Hikaru’s" muffled voice, and the tendril that was holding him close suddenly jostled.
Yoshiki gasped as best he could around his mouthful of "Hikaru" as the tendril roiled, pushing Yoshiki backwards, away from the center of "Hikaru." Yoshiki flailed and tried to grab onto "Hikaru," any protrusion or catch or jagged edge that wasn’t slippery like chicken meat, but there was nothing! Nothing!
Yoshiki felt pieces of "Hikaru" peeling away from him, popping off his back like octopus suckers, and he thought he might start to cry, so he grabbed onto the piece of Hikaru in his hands again, and felt his whole body ripped from "Hikaru’s" embrace.
As he fell backwards, out of "Hikaru," the only other thing he registered was "Hikaru’s" voice shouting at him.
When Yoshiki came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was covered in clammy sweat. His uniform shirt must have been soaked all the way through with how it clung to and slid over his skin. The second thing he noticed, when he opened his eyes, was "Hikaru’s" snotty, tear-covered face.
“Yoshiki! Yer alive! I’m sorry, I did it again, I didn’t mean to, you just squeezed me so hard, and then you were right in there and I couldn’t bear to let you go, but I had to because you were so close to gettin’ eaten, and you can’t let me eat you ‘cause then you won’t be you anymore, and I couldn’t stand it if you went away, Yoshiki—”
“Hikaru,” Yoshiki croaked. He lifted his head off the storage room floor and groaned as he sat up.
"Hikaru" just kept talking, “—and when I finally pulled you out you weren’t breathin’ right, and I was so scared you were already gone. You can’t be gone, Yoshiki! If yer gone, I won’t know what to do, I need you—”
With a sweaty hand, Yoshiki clapped "Hikaru" on the shoulder, startling him out of his monologue. They stared at each other for a tense moment as Yoshiki caught his breath. Finally, Yoshiki closed his eyes and let his head fall against "Hikaru’s" shoulder.
“It’s okay. I need you too.”