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Chapter Text

The town was too small for secrets. Every step could be heard, every glance could be felt, every rumor spread faster than wildfire. Yoshiki knew that better than anyone. In that sticky summer sun and heavy nights where not even the stars gave comfort, he carried something that everyone would find disgusting, something that would make him sick in their eyes. He was in love with Hikaru, his best friend, a man.

For as long as he could remember, it had always been the two of them. Yoshiki and Hikaru, Hikaru and Yoshiki. Walking to school together, sharing the same wooden bench by the river, stealing watermelons in the hottest summers and ending up with sticky fingers. But the older Yoshiki got, the more his feelings grew. And the worst part was Hikaru seemed to notice sometimes, not because he understood, but because he enjoyed destroying him little by little.

"Dude, why are you looking at me like that?" Hikaru had said one afternoon after catching Yoshiki staring too long.

"It’s nothing," he replied quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Pfff, you’re such a weirdo," Hikaru said, smiling with that unconscious cruelty that hurt more than any punch.

Yoshiki had learned to stay silent, to swallow his shame. And still, he loved him. He found him attractive even when every gesture reminded him that his love would never be accepted.

And then, that summer, everything changed.

Hikaru’s twin brother, Noharu, returned to the town. Yoshiki barely remembered him, a fragile boy who had been sent to Tokyo to stay near hospitals. But now he was back, and though he shared Hikaru’s face, he couldn’t have been more different.

At first, Yoshiki almost mistook him for Hikaru. Same height, same face, same eyes. But it only took a minute to realize they looked the same but didn’t feel the same. Noharu’s hair was a little longer, brushing softly across his forehead and neck. His movements weren’t rough or careless like Hikaru’s; each gesture was calm and measured, like he always knew exactly what he was doing.

"You’re Yoshiki, right?" Noharu asked the first time they met after so many years.

"Y-Yeah…" he replied, nervous.

"I’m glad you’re still with Hikaru. He always wrote to me about you," Noharu said, smiling softly.

Yoshiki stayed silent. Hikaru had never told him anything like that.

---

The following days, Yoshiki started noticing the differences even more clearly, as if every detail forced him to compare. Hikaru could eat watermelon until he was full, sticky hands and red mouth, but Noharu preferred ice cream, trying different flavors every time. Hikaru always said movies were boring, anything else was better than sitting still, while Noharu loved getting lost in them, quiet for two hours, eyes glued to the screen. Hikaru hated cats, but Noharu would stop to pet every stray on the street, talking to them like old friends. Hikaru hated studying, making excuses to avoid homework; Noharu enjoyed reading, always carrying a book with folded pages from constant use.

They were twins, yes. But Yoshiki realized there was something in Noharu he’d never seen in Hikaru: a gentle sweetness, an enigmatic aura that both attracted and confused him.

One afternoon, they were alone in the classroom, picking up papers from the floor. Sunlight poured through the windows, bathing Noharu’s profile in gold. Yoshiki tried to focus on anything other than his eyes.

"You know?" Noharu said, breaking the silence.

"What?" Yoshiki asked, not looking at him.

"Hikaru always said you were weird… but I don’t see that."

Yoshiki felt a hollow in his stomach.

"He… really said that?"

"Yeah," Noharu replied, then smiled softly. "But I see something different. I can see your soul. And it’s too beautiful for him to understand."

Yoshiki froze. No one had ever said something like that to him, directly, without fear or mockery.

Since then, every encounter with Noharu unsettled him. He noticed how he played with a strand of hair while reading, how his voice lowered slightly when saying something important, how he seemed to hide secrets in his gaze, making him seem unreachable.

---

The old court was almost empty. The hum of summer filled the air, and the dry ground crunched beneath their shoes. Yoshiki sat in his usual spot, waiting for Hikaru as if habit could hold together what was falling apart inside him.

But it was Noharu who appeared.

He dropped down beside him with calm ease, as if he’d known all along Yoshiki would be there. For a while, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but heavy, like something invisible wrapped around them. Noharu broke it.

"Tokyo’s different," he said suddenly, staring at the sky.

Yoshiki glanced at him. "Different how?"

"Everything moves fast. People… they don’t even see you. You can walk among thousands of people and still feel like you don’t exist. I lived like that for years, near hospitals, doctors, always feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere."

His voice was strange; it didn’t sound like complaining, or sadness, or indifference. It was like telling a dream he hadn’t yet woken from.

"And… did you like it?" Yoshiki asked cautiously.

"I don’t know. Some things, yeah. I could find any book, watch new movies, try flavors you don’t even get here. I could get lost in the crowd and nobody would notice. But…" He paused, breathing deep, searching for the right word.

"…the sky is never truly dark there. The city lights cover everything. You can’t see the stars. I could feel myself… but also trapped."

Yoshiki followed his gaze upward. The stars were clear, bright, a common sight in the town, but rare in Tokyo.

"Here," Noharu continued, "everything’s slower. Nights feel endless. The air is heavier, yeah… but also more real. And the stars…" He smiled lightly, tilting his head toward Yoshiki without taking his eyes off the sky. "The stars here are more beautiful than anywhere in the world."

Yoshiki felt his chest burn. The way Noharu spoke, like he was carrying a secret in every word, left him defenseless.

"Doesn’t it bother you to be back?" Yoshiki asked, trying to sound steady.

Noharu looked down at his hands. "At first, yeah. I didn’t want to come back. I feel like a stranger here, even with my own family. Hikaru… he belongs to this place. I… I don’t. But when I look at this sky, when I feel the earth under my feet… something tells me maybe, just maybe, I was meant to return to this little town. That something was waiting for me here."

Their eyes met, and Yoshiki felt a shiver run down his back.

"Something?" he whispered.

"Maybe… someone."

Yoshiki’s heart pounded. Noharu didn’t move, didn’t break the calm, but there was intensity in his gaze, like he could see through him without touching him.

"Your soul shines brightest under this sky," Noharu added softly, almost supernatural. "That’s why I like this place more than Tokyo. Because here I can see you, really see you."

Yoshiki looked away, unable to meet that confession, trembling inside. No one had ever looked at him like that.

A voice, cruel and internal, screamed louder than everything else: This is sick, this is disgusting, this is impossible.

He recoiled abruptly, looking away.

"Don’t say things like that…" he murmured, almost pleading.

"Why not?" Noharu asked calmly, as if he didn’t understand.

"Because… because it’s not right. You can’t say that to me. My best friend is Hikaru…"

Silence fell, heavy. Noharu watched him for a long moment, those eyes that seemed to see everything. He didn’t argue. He didn’t defend himself. He just remained silent, letting Yoshiki drown in his own guilt.

---

Weeks passed with a slightly superficial normalcy. The three of them walked home from school together again, as if nothing had happened. But Yoshiki could no longer ignore the weight of distance from Hikaru, nor how alone he felt since Noharu returned.

One day, on the way home, Hikaru left with Satou-san, laughing with her as they walked. Yoshiki saw them and felt himself sink further. He walked in silence, cold-faced, tense. Noharu followed like a patient shadow.

"You’re really quiet," Noharu said after a while.

"...I’m always quiet," Yoshiki said flatly.

"That’s not true," Noharu smiled softly. "You just carry too much inside."

Yoshiki said nothing. He couldn’t.

When they reached his house, he stopped in front of the door, hand on the knob, back to Noharu. The sun set behind him, half of Noharu’s face glowing orange, the other half shadowed.

"Yoshiki?" Noharu said quietly.

The silence lasted a second that felt like forever. Finally, Yoshiki asked, barely a whisper, "Are you in love with me?"

There was no hesitation.
"I do. I’m crazy for you."

Yoshiki couldn’t breathe. Tears stung his eyes, everything inside him colliding—Hikaru, Noharu, the town, Satou-san, the years of unreturned love, guilt, shame, pain.

He stepped inside without turning back. But before closing the door, he glanced over once at Noharu’s half-lit, half-shadowed face.

"Then don’t leave me alone… like Hikaru did," he whispered.

The door clicked shut.

Outside, Noharu stood quietly, the last light of summer burning around him.

---

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering blue of the TV. The sound of button presses filled the silence, mixed with the voices of the game characters.

"Ha! I told you I’d beat you this time," Hikaru exclaimed, leaning forward with bright eyes.

"You always say that, dumbass" Noharu replied calmly, thumbs moving with precision. His character dodged an attack at the last second.

The laughter filled the room, light, almost childlike, like nothing else existed in that moment. But amid the game, as the tension on-screen rose, Hikaru muttered low enough that it barely rose above the TV hum: "You know, bro… Yoshiki and I have always been together. Here, in this town, in this life. Nobody else gets it."
His words weren’t a confession, but a warning.

"That’s why… no matter what happens… he’s still mine."

Noharu didn’t turn his head. He kept his eyes on the screen, a faint smile forming on his lips. His voice was soft, almost a whisper: "People don’t belong to anyone, Hikaru. Everyone chooses their own path… even Yoshiki."

The silence stretched for a few seconds, broken only by the game sounds. They kept playing, fingers steady on the controllers, like nothing had changed. But on the screen, “Game Over” flashed suddenly, the electronic roar of defeat filling the room.

Both stared at the TV, neither speaking. Who had lost remained unspoken, a secret suspended between them, heavy with meaning far beyond the game.
Hikaru leaned back, breathing deeply. Noharu set his controller down. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Hikaru extended his hand. Noharu looked at him silently, then accepted the handshake. Their fingers met firmly, sealing an unspoken agreement.

The TV returned to the main menu as if nothing had happened.

Chapter Text

When they were kids, Hikaru and Yoshiki were inseparable. In elementary school, Hikaru would wait for him every morning in front of his house, his shoes already dusty from running back and forth. No matter how early it was, he was always there, impatiently watching the corner of the street. And when Yoshiki finally appeared, walking slowly with his backpack slung crookedly, Hikaru would run to him with a wide smile. It was a silent ritual, a secret shared between the two of them, something that belonged only to them.

Back then, Hikaru was the brave one. He wasn’t afraid of rough games on the playground or raising his voice when someone bothered Yoshiki. On the contrary, Yoshiki would hide behind his back, frowning silently while Hikaru shouted fiercely,

“Leave him alone!”

The other kids would laugh, but Hikaru never backed down. Yoshiki, shy, would watch from behind, lips pressed together, his face slightly red until everything passed. Afterwards, Hikaru would turn with a triumphant grin.

“See? No one messes with you when I’m here.”

Yoshiki would nod, lowering his head, though inside he felt something he couldn’t explain, a strange warmth whenever Hikaru looked him in the eyes.

Those memories now felt like knives because the present wasn’t like that anymore. Noharu was in the picture.

Noharu was Hikaru’s twin brother, inseparable in appearance but always distant in essence. He had never been part of their elementary school games, never part of that special routine between Hikaru and Yoshiki. When they were small, Hikaru often forgot he even had a twin because his heart was occupied only by Yoshiki.

Time had passed almost without interruption after Noharu’s confession. On the surface, nothing seemed to have changed. The town moved at its usual rhythm, with the hum of cicadas in the summer heat and the narrow streets repeating every step. Life went on as usual for everyone else. For Yoshiki, however, the calm of Kubitachi felt heavier, full of unsaid words and silences that seemed to speak on their own.

Noharu was always nearby. Before, Yoshiki had little intimate moments with Hikaru. Now those smiles, casual gestures, soft laughter—they were shared with someone else.

Hikaru noticed it slowly, painfully, day by day.

In the mornings, Hikaru used to wait for him at the entrance of his house to walk to school together. He would swing his backpack from side to side, talk about anything, and Yoshiki would walk slowly to stretch those minutes. He pretended to be late, but in reality, he wanted time to pass slower. Now, more often than he liked, Noharu was there first. Leaning against the tree with that easy smile, greeting Yoshiki, asking silly questions. Hikaru felt a stab in his chest, a pang he couldn’t name.

During recess, he would look for the bench where he and Yoshiki used to sit, sharing sandwiches, pointing at clouds, joking about teachers. That bench was now occupied by Noharu. Yoshiki leaned toward him, head lowered, laughing with bright eyes. Hikaru stayed in the corner of the yard, phone in hand as an excuse, while his chest tightened.

Even the simplest gestures seemed different. Yoshiki used to buy watermelon with him at the corner store, ending up with sticky hands and red mouths, laughing between bites. Noharu preferred ice cream, sampling flavors carefully, showing Yoshiki every little expression of delight as if he wanted to share everything. Hikaru watched silently, feeling it was a reflection of what he never dared to show.

There were days when Hikaru imagined everything as before. Walking down the street, thinking Yoshiki would be waiting around the corner, only to find Noharu there instead. He saw him walking beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and felt as if someone had stolen a future he hadn’t even had the courage to ask for.

At night, when the heat kept him awake, Hikaru thought about Yoshiki. The way his bangs covered his eyes, how he frowned when concentrating, how his laughter filled any awkward silence. Sometimes he closed his eyes and imagined him turning to him, saying his name softly. Then he hated himself for thinking it. He told himself it was wrong, disgusting, that his late father had been right.

He tried to distract himself with what seemed normal. Satou-san, school, the family business.

He thought about her, how sweet and polite she was, calm and gentle. He told himself he liked her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, her soft laugh barely escaping her lips. But every thought dragged him back to the same place. His mind went back to Yoshiki, comparing every detail.

There were memories that haunted him. One summer day years ago, they had gone to the river together. Yoshiki pushed him into the water, and he came out laughing, clothes stuck to his body. He remembered the sparkle in his eyes, the sun reflecting off the drops on his face. That image returned every time he closed his eyes, clearer than anything else in his memory.

He also remembered when Yoshiki got sick as a child. He had stayed awake all night, sitting at the edge of his bed, changing the cold towels on his forehead. No one asked him to. He did it because he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. That same devotion was still inside him, disguised as admiration, hidden under the word “best friend.”

But now Noharu was here. Walking with him, making him laugh, sharing his secrets. Looking at him with a type of tenderness Hikaru never dared to show. And every day, Hikaru convinced himself he was losing something he would never dare to claim.

One afternoon, the room they shared was quiet. Yoshiki was looking at his phone with a faint smile, lost in some message he wasn’t sharing. Hikaru lay on the floor with a manga open. He wasn’t reading, just glancing up at him every so often. Sunlight poured through the window, dust motes floating as if the air were breathing with them.

Hikaru spoke suddenly, voice low but firm.
“Yoshiki.”

“Mm?” the other replied without looking up.

Hikaru’s chest tightened. He had to ask.
“Who do you like more, me or my brother?”

Yoshiki froze. The phone felt too heavy in his hands. A tense silence filled the room. It wasn’t empty; it hurt.

Finally, he moved his hand and ruffled Hikaru’s hair, just like when they were kids. The gesture was so simple it almost seemed innocent.

Hikaru tilted his head back, letting Yoshiki’s hand fall and brush his face, murmuring with a faint smile.
“Die.”

It sounded like a joke, but Yoshiki heard the edge hidden in those words.

The room fell silent again, the village noise barely creeping in from outside, insects filling the summer air. Yoshiki pretended to look at his phone. Hikaru slammed the manga shut and watched him silently. They both knew the silence meant more than any words.

Hikaru picked up the manga again, pretending to read. Each page blurred. He lifted his eyes and saw Yoshiki’s face lit by the faint glow of the screen. Lips slightly curved, fingers scrolling without real attention. So close, so bright, so impossible to reach.

His brother’s name crossed his mind and his chest twisted. He loved him, had always loved him, had counted the days of each visit. Now he was here, whole, perfect, with the smile that drew Yoshiki. Hikaru knew it, but he couldn’t stop the desire to fight the idea of losing everything. Not against Noharu, never against him, but against the fear that Yoshiki could belong to someone else.

At night, he dreamed of Yoshiki holding his hand, the warmth anchoring him to another reality. On the school rooftop, just the two of them, laughing at nonsense while the sun set behind the mountains. He woke up sweating, throat dry, hating himself for what he wanted.

The room felt smaller. Yoshiki stayed on the screen, ignoring the weight hanging in the air. Hikaru thought of the old days, when it was just the two of them. Laughter, sand-stained hands, pieces of watermelon under the sun.

For a moment, he wished he could go back, before Noharu returned, before Kubitachi’s calm shattered into pieces.

. . .

The night was cool, the air barely moving the leaves. Hikaru sat on the porch, staring into the darkness of the garden. Noharu came out after a while with a cup in his hands and sat beside him. Silence hung between them, only broken by the distant chirping of a cricket.

“You don’t miss Tokyo?” Hikaru asked suddenly, not looking away from the darkness.

Noharu glanced at him. His brother didn’t blink, fixed on some thought.
“Sometimes… yeah. But it feels different here.”

“Different doesn’t mean better,” Hikaru replied coldly.

Noharu sighed, looking down at his cup.
“I’ve seen Mom smile more since we’ve been here. Even when she’s tired, she seems calmer… happier.”

Hikaru clenched his jaw. Fingers drumming on the wood.
“So you wanna stay just for that?”

“It’s not just that,” Noharu said firmly. “Not everything revolves around what you want or don’t want. Mom matters too.”

Silence fell again, heavier than before. Hikaru finally looked at him, eyes shining with contained anger.
“I never asked you to come back.”

Noharu held his gaze, unwavering.
“I know. But here I am.”

Hikaru looked away, feeling a fire burn in his chest that no cold night air could extinguish.

The silence returned, broken only by a sharp cricket somewhere. Hikaru lowered his head, voice breaking for the first time in a long while.
“Why… did you have to come back?” he whispered, barely audible.

Noharu looked at him, surprised. The stiffness in his brother’s shoulders slowly relaxed as tears began streaming down his cheeks. Hikaru covered his face with a hand, but his ragged breathing betrayed him.

Noharu set the cup aside and leaned toward him, putting a hand on his back. At first, Hikaru tensed, as if the contact burned him, but he didn’t push his brother away. Instead, he buried his face in his shoulder.

“It’s okay…” Noharu murmured, rubbing his back slowly. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Hikaru sobbed, a knot in his throat suffocating him. His mind swirled with contradictions: he wanted to hate Noharu for stealing his world, for making him feel jealous he couldn’t handle. But he couldn’t. Not even a little. Not more than he hated himself.

The hug stayed, Noharu firm, trying to convey warmth on a cold night, Hikaru clinging, trembling, trapped in feelings he had held for too long.

Hikaru leaned against Noharu, shaking, as the weight of years of held-back jealousy, fear, guilt, desire, and self-hatred pressed down. Finally, through the tears, his voice trembled.
“I… I wish you hadn’t come back…”

“I love you too, brother,” Noharu said gently, his voice steady yet warm.

Those words landed on Hikaru like a weight impossible to bear, and at the same time like an unexpected balm. He pulled back slightly to look at him, eyes red, glistening, full of confusion.

“How… how can you say that? After all… after everything…”

“Because you’re my brother,” Noharu interrupted, with a tenderness that made even Hikaru’s hardened chest ache. “And none of this changes that. It never will.”

Hikaru closed his eyes, letting the tears flow freely. He couldn’t hate him more than he hated himself, and yet, he couldn’t help feeling a strange relief, warm but tangled with guilt and shame. Everything inside him was a mess: his internalized homophobia, the fear of being weak, the pressure to be strong like their father, the memories of Satou-san and what was “right,” and his silent adoration for Yoshiki that still pulsed quietly.

Noharu rubbed his back slowly, steadily, as if every movement whispered without words that he was there, that he wasn’t judging.

“You don’t have to hide anything,” Noharu whispered. “You can cry, feel, be yourself with me.”

Hikaru breathed shakily, feeling the tightness in his throat begin to loosen, even though the guilt and anger at himself didn’t disappear. He knew his love for Yoshiki couldn’t change, but this acceptance from Noharu, this brotherly hug, was a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

He stayed curled against Noharu, body trembling from holding back years of emotion. The night was cold, but the warmth from his brother reached his bones, making his inner world tremble in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“Hikaru…” Noharu whispered again, gentle and soft, stroking his back. “I’m not giving up that easily. I’m not leaving just because you wish I would.”

Hikaru lifted his head a little, eyes watery, looking at him with a mixture of rage and resignation, chest tight from feelings he couldn’t name.

“You’re such an idiot,” he finally spat out, voice broken, trembling.

Noharu smiled softly, unoffended, letting the word hit like a brief, cold wind. He didn’t move, didn’t release the hug.

“Maybe I am an idiot,” he said. “But I’m still your brother. And that means I’m not going anywhere. Not while you’re hurting, not while you think you have to face everything alone.”

Hikaru closed his eyes again, letting himself sink into the embrace, feeling the tension in his chest ease just a little. For the first time in so long, he didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to fight the emotions swirling inside. Noharu’s presence, his steadfastness, made him realize that maybe strength didn’t always mean being alone.

Chapter Text

From the window of his room in Tokyo, Noharu used to watch the sky turn blue and gray, as if the world was divided into layers that never touched. He grew up observing, always observing. He was never quite a normal kid. His earliest memories were woven with hospital lights, the beeping of machines that marked lives, and the distant voice of doctors speaking a language he could only half-decipher. His parents, absorbed in their own worlds, entrusted his care to a tutor who was functional but not affectionate; he learned to exist between routines and white walls, to live without expecting much.

The death of his father came like a distant echo. There were no shared tears, no comforting hugs; only letters from Hikaru that arrived late and were never enough. Each missive was a thread that kept him anchored to life, each word from his brother an anchor that connected him to a world from which he felt excluded.

Loving Hikaru from afar was strange, almost painful, but it was his only certainty. His happiness, silent and contained, depended on those letters, on those snippets of life that reached him from elsewhere. Noharu became a soul that existed for another, living in the shadow of a brother who shone without realizing it.

He grew up free in the city, with open streets and parks full of children, but always trapped. His health improved, his body strengthened, his eyes learned to see beyond the visible. And yet, that feeling of emptiness accompanied him: he was just a reflection, a shell that filled up with the lives of others, with Hikaru's energy, with the fragments of joy he sent from the village. His existence was a delicate balance between autonomy and dependence, a thread suspended between freedom and confinement.

That's when he discovered his gift: he could see people's souls. Not as a child's fantasy, but as a palpable fact. Each soul had a distinct glow, its own beat. Some flickered, others vibrated with strength, and a few remained stable, warm, and unattainable. Hikaru had always been a constant beacon, a warm light that never wavered.

The others were ephemeral, sometimes gray, sometimes fleeting. No one else could come close to that clarity… until Yoshiki appeared.

At first, Yoshiki was just a flash between the memories of his childhood, a boy Noharu had barely seen. A kind gesture toward Hikaru, a smile that crossed his gaze, a glow not meant for him. But now, seeing him close, that light became tangible. Yoshiki's soul was the brightest he had ever seen, warm, intense, transparent, impossible to ignore. Every word, every movement, every glance drew him to Yoshiki with a force that disarmed him. And at the same time, it terrified him. Because loving Yoshiki meant stepping out of Hikaru's shadow, meant challenging his own existence as "the brother who waits and watches."

As he helped Yoshiki with his homework, Noharu noticed how the boy lowered his head, confused, with trembling fingers over the pencil. His voice was soft, almost trembling:

"I don't get it…" Yoshiki murmured.

And Noharu, patiently, carefully, guided his hand over the paper:

"Look, if you move this number here… everything falls into place."

There were moments when Noharu felt like an empty shell. He existed, breathed, walked, but only made sense when he was with Hikaru or when he received news from him. Each letter, each memory, each shared fragment of life was his nourishment, his purpose.

But with Yoshiki, he started to discover that he could exist on his own. That he could feel, act, and love, without relying solely on Hikaru's presence.

The awareness of his own feelings caused him guilt. He knew that every gesture of closeness toward Yoshiki could hurt Hikaru, that his brother had always been first, that his presence was the axis on which he had built his life. However, for the first time, Noharu wanted to put himself before his brother. He wanted to look at Yoshiki, touch his world, admire and care for him, even if it meant feeling the sting of Hikaru's silent reproach.

Noharu's heart raced with an intensity he had never known. Every laugh from Yoshiki, every concentrated gaze, every timid or grateful word filled him with a new emotion, a warmth he had never felt outside of Hikaru's letters. It was dangerous, he knew. He could get lost, could fall into a love that confused loyalty and desire. But he didn't care. For the first time, he felt that living for others was not enough: he wanted to live for himself and for someone he could touch.

Noharu understood something crucial: Hikaru would always be his older brother, the first, the constant beacon. But Yoshiki could be his own world, his own tangible light, his reason for existing in a present he had decided to claim.

For the first time in years, he felt he could look forward without relying solely on another's reflection. He could love and be loved, could protect and be vulnerable. And that fear, that excitement, that tenderness that ran through him completely, was his and no one else's.

In a silence filled with promises and anxiety, Noharu closed his eyes for a moment, letting the glow of Hikaru's and Yoshiki's souls dance before him. He knew that every choice, every gesture, every thought was full of risk. But he was ready to live, for the first time, not just for his brother, but also for himself… and for Yoshiki.

. . .

The rain tapped softly on the window, filling the room with a constant murmur that seemed to isolate them from the world. Papers and pencils were scattered across the table, but Yoshiki's concentration was elsewhere. He watched Noharu, the soft light illuminating his face, and something in him felt strange, unsettling, and fascinating at the same time.

Suddenly, their gazes locked. It wasn't a casual glance; it was a moment that lasted an eternity, an instant in which both felt exposed and, at the same time, understood. Yoshiki lifted his head, his eyes searching Noharu's with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

"I feel… weird," Yoshiki said, his voice low, almost a whisper that seemed to float between the sound of the rain. "Your eyes… they're different from Hikaru's."

Noharu froze. His heart skipped a beat, and an unexpected warmth rose to his cheeks, coloring them a deep red. His hands tensed, and for a moment, it seemed like his breathing stopped. He tried to lean back a bit, as if hiding could disguise his reaction, but he couldn't take his eyes off Yoshiki.

"D-different…?" Noharu stammered, unable to completely hide the surprise and shyness that overwhelmed him.

Yoshiki swallowed, his hands trembling slightly, but he didn't look away. There was something in Noharu's eyes that made him feel strange, vulnerable, but safe at the same time. A mix of emotions he couldn't put into words.

"Yes," Yoshiki continued, his voice shaky. "When I look at you… I don't feel judged. With Hikaru… there's always something that presses on me, something that makes me feel guilty for what I feel. But with you… not so much."

Noharu closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm the tingling in his chest. He felt a intense blush spread across his face, and a pleasant warmth gather in his chest. It was a strange sensation, but not uncomfortable; it was as if joy and shyness had fused, filling every pore of his skin.

"I…" Noharu began, his voice barely a thread. "You don't have to feel bad about that. I wouldn't judge you… ever."

A flicker of relief crossed Yoshiki's eyes, and Noharu felt an unexpected happiness, as if his shy smile could light up the entire room. His cheeks were still burning, but now it was a sweet, almost intoxicating warmth. He bit his lower lip, trying to contain the nervous laughter that threatened to escape.

"Dude…" Yoshiki said, his voice barely audible. "You blushed."

"Ehhh…" Noharu replied, bringing a hand to his face, trying to hide the blush, but his smile peeked through his fingers. His eyes sparkled, filled with curiosity and shyness, and he couldn't look away from Yoshiki.

Noharu's heart raced, accelerated by Yoshiki's closeness, by the honesty that hung between them, and by that sweet feeling of being understood. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely alive, not just as a reflection of Hikaru, but as someone who could exist on his own. And most importantly: he could feel joy without guilt, without fear, just for being in front of Yoshiki.

"Your eyes…" Yoshiki murmured, his voice trembling and a glow that Noharu had never seen. "They don't make me feel judged."

Noharu felt his heart constrict and then expand in a surge of tenderness and relief. It was as if all the shadows of his past, all the insecurities accumulated in years of hospitals and distance from his brother, had dissipated in an instant. For the first time, he knew he could stop feeling the pressure of always being Hikaru's reflection and simply… be himself.

His smile grew, shy but genuine, as he lowered his hand from his face. His heart raced so fast that he could almost hear his own pulse. The joy, the blush, the contained emotion: all mixed into one thread of pure sensation, keeping him suspended in that moment, not wanting it to end ever.

Yoshiki closed his eyes for a second after hearing Noharu, letting that sensation wash over him, allowing his feelings to settle without feeling disgust or fear. For the first time in a long time, he stopped feeling like a monster. For the first time, he accepted that he could feel, that he could trust, and that this closeness was not something forbidden, but a safe space where both could exist without masks or judgments.

The sound of the rain became a soft, almost melodic accompaniment as they both remained in silence, sharing an intimacy without words, with racing hearts, burning cheeks, and the feeling that something between them had changed forever.

Noharu, flushed and happy, let out a small sigh and murmured:

"I-I think that's the best compliment I've ever received…"

And Yoshiki just smiled, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room, letting the silent truth settle between them, for the first time, he could exist without fear.

Chapter Text

It was a dull Saturday, one of those days where even the clock seemed to move lazily. The heat made the house drowsy, and the chirping of cicadas mingled with the slow whirring of the ceiling fan. Yoshiki and Hikaru were alone in the room, something that hadn't happened often since Noharu arrived. Before, that solitude was normal; now, it had become a strange luxury.

Yoshiki was lying on the futon, flipping through a book without really reading it, feeling the pressure of Hikaru's gaze fixed on him. Every time he looked up, he found Hikaru watching him with a different intensity, heavier than before. And every time, he couldn't help but blush like an idiot.

"What's up?" Yoshiki said, trying to sound light. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Hikaru tilted his head and rested his chin on his hand, barely smiling.
"I don't know. I like watching you... when you're not distracted."

The words fell on Yoshiki like a shock. He didn't know how to respond and, to escape that moment, changed the subject. He heard Hikaru's laughter. That laughter, light and almost mocking, filled the room as if trying to push the silence out.

"Wow, Yoshiki," Hikaru said, pretending to be solemn, leaning his head against the wall. "you look more boring than a rock in the river."

"Well, what do you suggest? Sleeping until the day is over?"

Hikaru grinned with that mischievous spark he always used to provoke him. "I could… or we could run away to the beach tomorrow. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I bet this time you’ll actually know how to smile for the photos."

Yoshiki raised an eyebrow, suppressing the smile that threatened to appear. Hikaru always did that—mask a sincere wish with sarcasm. He knew him well enough to realize he wasn’t serious when he called himself a clown, but he was when he kept insisting on wanting him close.

"Tomorrow then," Yoshiki replied, and for a second, he felt a strange relief, as if that plan gave him something concrete to hold onto.

Silence returned, but it wasn't the same as before. Now it was filled with something more, something thick. Yoshiki noticed that Hikaru was watching him again, with that look that was like no other, mocking, yes, but at the same time fixed, insistent. As if searching for something he couldn't give.

Yoshiki tried to break the atmosphere.
"We can all go. I'm sure Noharu could use a break."

The change was immediate. Hikaru straightened up, and his smile faded like a candle blown out by the wind.
"No."

The refusal was so sharp that Yoshiki froze.
"Why not?"

Hikaru looked at him with a strange gleam in his eyes. There was no sarcasm this time, no joke.
"Because I want you to be mine alone. I don't want to share you with anyone, not even with Noharu."

Yoshiki felt a punch in the stomach. His face burned, and his heart raced so fast that he could barely hold his gaze. The phrase pierced him like sweet poison, something that shouldn't exist, but that, at the same time, attracted him with force.

He tried to laugh, but his voice came out broken.
"You talk like a spoiled child."

Hikaru tilted his head, smiling to the side, as if the joke was a shield.
"Maybe. But tell me, Yoshiki... do you really want someone else to be between us?"

Yoshiki clenched the book between his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He had no answer. Inside, he felt burning, trapped in that invisible line that separated affection from something much darker. And he hated it. He hated feeling that way, hated that part of himself that responded with an accelerated heartbeat, that made him want to run and stay at the same time.

"I..." Yoshiki started, but the words stuck in his throat. The room seemed smaller, more closed. Hikaru kept looking at him, and that look burned him. It was a prison disguised as tenderness.

Yoshiki averted his gaze to the window, trying to catch his breath. But even with his eyes closed, he still felt Hikaru's presence, sticky and bright, like a flame that couldn't be extinguished.

The air was so thick that every silence hurt. Yoshiki felt like he couldn't breathe, like any word would turn into dynamite. Hikaru looked at him with that crooked smile, as if he enjoyed seeing him on the verge of exploding inside.

Suddenly, he broke the tension with a slap. He put his hand to his forehead and rolled his eyes.

"I'm Noharu... the visionary. I see things no one else can see... ohhh, a soul floating above your head, Yoshiki!"

He twisted his voice in a delirious, almost buffoonish tone.
"Yeah, yeah, it's talking to me... it says Hikaru is an asshole. Hahaha! Wait, another soul contradicts me... says you're the asshole."

He staggered dramatically, as if possessed. Then, with a solemn and deranged expression, he exclaimed
"Shhh, silence! The spirits are telling me something very important, Yoshiki. They say that if you don't give me three boxes of sweets, your fate will be... horrible. You'll spend your days listening to me talk about souls, and how the air has feelings!"

Yoshiki tried to hold back, but the scene was too ridiculous, Hikaru with a furrowed brow, staring into space as if negotiating with ghosts, extending his hand as if demanding a sacred offering.

"Yoshiki! Don't ignore the spirits! They know... you hide candies under your bed. Give them to me, or your aura will become sticky like poorly chewed gum."

That's when Yoshiki couldn't hold back anymore. A laugh escaped him so forcefully that he had to double over, holding his stomach.

"You're such a dumbass, Hikaru!" he managed to say, with tears welling up in his eyes from laughing so hard.

Hikaru, triumphant, crossed his arms with his nose in the air, still imitating his brother.
"Dumbass, no... enlightened. Accept your fate, Yoshiki."

The laughter still trembled in Yoshiki's chest, but beneath that explosion of relief, there was something uncomfortable, a blade that pricked him in silence.

Then his voice broke just a little, and he said, half-serious and half-annoyed
"Don't make fun of your little brother like that."

Hikaru looked at him for a second, as if he hadn't expected that reaction, and then let out a dry laugh, without a hint of guilt.
"Come on, Yoshiki, don't tell me you believe that nonsense about souls. That doesn't make any sense."

Yoshiki lowered his gaze, feeling that the laughter that had just escaped was now stuck in his throat. Laughing at Noharu like that tasted bitter, but he couldn't help it. Hikaru always managed to disarm him, always found a way to drag him into his absurd world. And Yoshiki let himself be carried away, even if guilt bit him afterward.

Yoshiki hesitated for a moment, lowering his gaze. Then he murmured:
"Maybe it doesn't make sense... but I think it's a bit interesting... and terrifying."

Hikaru raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with impudence.
"Terrifying? Please. I can be much more terrifying than any soul."

Then he puffed out his cheeks, crossed his eyes, and bared his teeth in an absurd grimace, so ridiculous that Yoshiki couldn't help himself. A strong laugh burst from his chest, and in seconds, the whole room vibrated with their laughter, as if the whole world had been reduced to that moment.

. . .

Sunday dawned oppressive, as if the sun had decided to crush everything under its weight. Yoshiki was already uncomfortable even before leaving the house, but the heat of the train car made him feel trapped, with his shirt sticking to his skin and the thick air filling his lungs.

Hikaru, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy it. He was sitting by the window, leaning back in a relaxed manner, with his hair gleaming under the white light filtering through the train's blinds. His lips were curved in that smile that never faded, as if even the heat was an excuse to play.

"I told you we should have bought cold drinks before getting on," he commented, nudging Yoshiki.

Yoshiki huffed, looking down the aisle to avoid meeting that gaze that always disarmed him.
"I didn't think we'd be trapped in an oven on wheels."

Hikaru laughed, and his laughter echoed in the confined space, light, mocking.
"An oven... how dramatic you are. I'd say it's more like a free sauna. Relax, Yoshiki. This is part of the trip."

The words irritated and soothed him at the same time. Yoshiki didn't know how Hikaru managed that, how he could get under his skin and give him peace with a simple joke. He forced himself to look out the window, but all he saw was the reflection of Hikaru's eyes, fixed on him with an intensity that made him burn more than the car's heat.

The train moved with a hypnotic rattle, and between jolts, Yoshiki realized something strange: Hikaru was too quiet. When he turned to look at him, he found him staring at him directly, not laughing, not talking. Just that fixed gaze that pierced through him.

"What?" Yoshiki murmured, uncomfortable.

"I was thinking..." Hikaru tilted his head, with a half-smile that hid something deeper. "It's funny. Before, you were always the one looking, you know? And now... it seems like I'm the one who gets nervous when you're close."

Yoshiki could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his cheeks burning more than the car's heat. He wanted to respond, say something witty or at least deny it, but the words stuck in his throat.

Hikaru noticed right away. That discomfort was a perfect toy for him. He tilted his head and, with that mischievous smile he always used before saying something stupid, let the joke fall as if it were nothing.

"What if it turns out I'm nervous because... I don't know... I fell in love with you?"

He said it in a light tone, exaggerating with a ridiculous gesture of forced blinking, as if he were mocking himself in a cheap comedy. It was clearly a joke, a way to soften the tension, but the blow went straight to Yoshiki's chest.

Yoshiki glanced at him, with his lips pressed together and his hands clenched on his knees. His heart raced, not because of the words themselves, but because for an instant —a damn instant— he thought Hikaru was saying out loud what should never be said.

"Shut up," Yoshiki murmured at last, with a low, dry, barely contained voice.

Hikaru burst into laughter, throwing his head back, with his crooked tooth shining in his smile. "Come on, Yoshiki, relax. I was just kidding."

But Yoshiki couldn't laugh. His face was still flushed, his eyes fixed on the window as the landscape passed by, too fast, as if the train was trying to escape the weight of what had just been left hanging between them.

. . .

The air conditioning in the convenience store was a relief after the stifling heat of the journey. Yoshiki stopped in front of the refrigerators, chose a small box of fresh fruit, and then walked to the shelf where tourist souvenirs from the beach were piled up: keychains with shells, rope bracelets, glass figurines that trapped the light.

Without realizing it, he filled a small basket with several of them. Hikaru watched him from behind, entertained at first, until he frowned with a mocking smile.

"And what do you want so many souvenirs for? Are you going to open a souvenir shop in your room or what?"

Yoshiki paused for a moment, as if he had been caught doing something. The heat rose to his cheeks, and he averted his gaze to the basket. "They're for Noharu..." he murmured almost in a whisper.

Hikaru's smile froze on his face, breaking for a second before he could recompose it. He bit his tongue to not say something hurtful, and instead, let out a dry laugh.

"Mm" he said, and without waiting for Yoshiki to react, he walked to the exit with a careless gesture, heading to the beach.

Yoshiki remained silent for a moment, with the basket in his hand, feeling that the lightness of the day had suddenly become heavy. Outside, the sun kept shining, but between the two of them, something different, difficult to name, had been left.

The sun beat down mercilessly on the beach. The air smelled of salt and hot breeze, and the noise of the families mixed with the waves crashing on the shore. Yoshiki had chosen a secluded spot, not too close to the water, but with enough space to set up the umbrella and spread a large towel on the sand. There he left his things, carefully arranging the bag with the cold drinks and fruit.

When he looked back at Hikaru, he found him kneeling in the sand, laughing to himself as he tried to raise a small castle that was already giving way to the wind. His torso glistened with sweat and sand; he only wore dark swim shorts that left every curve of his fair skin exposed. Next to him, Yoshiki felt ridiculously protected under his UV swimwear that covered almost his entire torso, the tight fabric and serious contrast with Hikaru's carefree brightness.

He frowned: Hikaru's skin had always been too sensitive to the sun. Without thinking, he took the tube of sunscreen from the bag and threw it at him.

"Hey, put this on before you end up looking like a tomato."

Hikaru caught the tube, but immediately showed his palms stained with sand. Instead of getting angry, he smiled impudently and tilted his head towards Yoshiki, showing him his entire exposed torso.

"And how do you want me to put it on, genius? Better do it for me, come on. I promise I won't bite." he replied with a mischievous smile.

Yoshiki took a deep breath, holding back the irritation and tension he felt at seeing Hikaru so carefree and flirty. He walked towards him and knelt in front of his back. "Fine, I'll do it," he said, trying to keep his voice firm.

He took the tube, letting the cream slide into his palm, and carefully approached. Each movement was charged with tension; as he spread the cream over Hikaru's shoulders, their hands brushed against his smooth skin, accidentally grazing the area near his chest. A shiver ran through Hikaru, and Yoshiki felt an internal tremor that was hard to control.

"Stay still..." Yoshiki murmured, trying to concentrate on applying the cream evenly, but Hikaru's closeness and the feeling of his warm skin under his fingers made him falter. The sea breeze mixed the aroma of the sunscreen with the salt and the heat of the summer, and every movement seemed to prolong in time.

Hikaru closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly, trusting Yoshiki and enjoying the delicacy of his hands. Yoshiki, despite the internal tension, continued with care, spreading the cream over the arms and shoulders, slightly lowering towards the torso and observing, without wanting to, how the skin looked brighter under the sun.

"Don't just stay there," Hikaru said, with that playful voice that disarmed him. "Put it on my face and legs too."

Yoshiki nodded, a knot of nerves and desire in his chest, and began to apply the cream to Hikaru's face, taking care not to touch more than necessary. Every gesture was charged with tension; the closeness, the heat of the sun, the accidental physical contact made his breathing accelerate. When he leaned in to cover his legs, Yoshiki's fingers found Hikaru's warm thighs, sliding slightly over the sand stuck to him, causing a shared shiver.

Hikaru opened his eyes, noticing Yoshiki's intense blush, and gave a mischievous smile. "You're very focused," he said, amused and a bit playful.

Yoshiki averted his gaze, trying to compose himself, but the feeling of closeness and the small accidental caresses kept him tense, making his heart beat faster than the murmur of the waves.

"Careful..." Yoshiki whispered, trying to keep control. "Don't get used to me pampering you so much."

Hikaru let out a soft laugh, almost a sigh, and lay back on the towel, letting Yoshiki continue with care. Every touch, every brush, was charged with silent electricity, contained chemistry, a desire that didn't need words to manifest.

The sun was slowly setting, the waves kept their constant rhythm, and the two remained in that silent dance of closeness and tension, sharing glances, blushes, and nervous laughter.

Hikaru, with his skin freshly protected by the sunscreen, jumped up and ran towards the shore. His feet touched the wet sand, and every wave that broke around him made him laugh like a mischievous child. The sound of his laughter mixed with the sound of the sea and the distant shouts of other families on the beach. His shorts clung slightly to his skin with the moisture, and the sun made his arms and shoulders shine with a golden tone that made Yoshiki swallow without wanting to.

Yoshiki remained under the umbrella, sitting on the spread towel. The heat barely reached him, but his heart still beat fast, remembering the close contact of a few minutes ago. He took the bottle of cold drink he had brought and opened it slowly, letting the liquid coolness run down his throat, trying to calm the tension that still ran through his body.

He watched Hikaru running between the waves, jumping, splashing, and making exaggerated gestures, as if the whole world belonged to him for a moment. Sometimes he stopped, turned around, and shouted something that Yoshiki couldn't hear, but that always ended with his laughter. Every movement of the boy was light, carefree, and at the same time impossible to ignore.

Yoshiki leaned his back against the umbrella, closing his eyes for a second and letting the salty air brush his skin. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of the breeze and the cold drink in his hands, but his mind kept going back to the moments with Hikaru: the closeness, the laughter, the way his hands had touched his skin while he applied the sunscreen.

Yoshiki sighed, putting the bottle aside, unable to stay still as he watched Hikaru splashing and laughing in thewaves. He got up slowly, adjusting the umbrella and the towel, and walked towards the water. Each step on the wet sand reminded him of Hikaru's closeness, the way his body moved, carefree and bright under the sun.

When he entered the water, the contact with the cold sea made him shiver a little, but it also gave him courage. Hikaru looked at him, a big smile lighting up his face, and waved his hand as if inviting him to join the madness.

"Come on, don't be shy!" Hikaru shouted, splashing water towards Yoshiki without waiting for an answer.

Yoshiki laughed softly, feeling the water soak him and the sea breeze stick to his skin. He advanced towards him, and every wave that broke on his legs tickled him, making him laugh too. Hikaru moved with total freedom, jumping, spinning, making exaggerated gestures as the water splashed all around.

The game turned into a small water battle, full of jumps, races, and splashes, while the tension that had been felt as a weight now transformed into something lighter, playful, with the heart beating fast for the closeness, the laughter, and the unexpected gestures. Every accidental brush, every shoulder collision, made Yoshiki blush and the feeling of heat run through his chest.

Hikaru watched him with that look that always seemed to play with him, light and mischievous, and Yoshiki couldn't help but focus his attention on those gestures, the energy that surrounded him, the laughter that seemed to infect every drop of water that separated them.

And while the waves broke around them, soaking them from head to toe, both continued running and laughing, not caring who won, because the real game was being together, in that moment suspended between sun, water, and laughter.

Hikaru ran towards the shore, splashing and laughing loudly as Yoshiki followed him more slowly, trying to keep his balance on the wet sand. The sun was high, reflecting golden glints on the water, and the sea breeze hit them with force, making Hikaru's laughter mix with the murmur of the waves.

Suddenly, Hikaru didn't see a small piece of coral hidden in the wet sand and stepped on it carelessly. A sharp cry escaped his mouth as he lost his balance. In an instant, he fell forward and ended up on top of Yoshiki, hitting him hard in the chest.

"Hey!" Yoshiki exclaimed, surprised, feeling how Hikaru's body leaned against him. "Careful, idiot!"

Hikaru, unable to help himself, laughed out loud, supporting his hands on Yoshiki's shoulders as he tried to get up. The close contact made Yoshiki feel a strange heat rising from his neck and chest, and his heart started to race. The closeness of Hikaru, his laughter, the way he casually leaned on him... it was all too much for Yoshiki.

"I'm sorry!" said Hikaru, trying to get up but staying too close. "Did I hurt you?"

Yoshiki swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up as he helped Hikaru to stand up. The brush of their bodies, though brief and accidental, left an electrifying sensation that both noticed, but neither mentioned.

"Fine..." Yoshiki finally responded, trying to sound firm but with a slightly trembling voice. "Just... be more careful next time."

Hikaru smiled mischievously, noticing Yoshiki's blush, and moved away a little, but without losing that playful gleam in his eyes that always disarmed Yoshiki.

"Yeah, yeah, the protective hero," he joked, making a stupid face that made Yoshiki let out a sigh mixed with relief and frustration. "But... that was fun."

The sun began to set over the beach, dyeing the sky with orange and pink tones. The sea breeze brought a smell of salt mixed with the warm sand. Yoshiki and Hikaru were collecting their things calmly, folding the towel, putting away the sand buckets and spades, and making sure not to leave any trace of their small occupation on the shore.

Hikaru, still with the sand stuck to his skin and his hair wet, cast quick glances at Yoshiki while putting the last souvenirs he had bought in the convenience store in his bag. His smile was more relaxed than in the morning, more natural, and there was something in his gestures that made Yoshiki feel both relieved and strange at the same time. The boy was starting to be himself again, confident and carefree, but also close, as before Noharu arrived and everything changed.

"Today was great," Hikaru said, shaking the sand off his shorts as he threw a couple of sandals into the bag. "I can't believe I almost fell so many times on the sand... and you saved me from becoming beach dust."

Yoshiki smiled, hiding a blush that had nothing to do with the sun.

"I was just... making sure you didn't end up hurt," Yoshiki responded, trying to sound casual, but feeling the weight of his concern for Hikaru and the closeness of the boy filling his chest with a mix of tenderness and anxiety.

Walking towards the station, the beach was left behind, bathed in golden light, and each step seemed to drag with it the memories of laughter, races, and that delicate moment of the sunscreen. Yoshiki went over them again and again, savoring the warmth that Hikaru had left in him. For the first time, he felt that he could be close to Hikaru without the pressure of distance or the past consuming him.

They got on the train, tired but satisfied. Hikaru, who had talked non-stop about the waves, the sandcastles, and his silly jokes to make Yoshiki laugh, suddenly became quiet, with his eyes half-closed. Yoshiki looked at his friend, recognizing the fatigue that he didn't want to admit.

Before he could say anything, Hikaru leaned his head on Yoshiki's shoulder, exhausted from the day's activities. At first, Yoshiki tensed, surprised by the contact, but then he relaxed, letting Hikaru's body rest against his. The warmth of the sun still remained in his skin, mixing with the closeness of his friend and the rhythmic beat of his heart. The sound of the train and the murmur of the passengers became a distant background. Yoshiki felt how each breath of Hikaru on his shoulder connected him in a silent and deep way. His own feelings stirred between tenderness, concern, and a warmth that made him blush. For the first time in a long time, he could feel that Hikaru trusted him completely, without fear or barriers, as when they were children but with the maturity they had both gained.

"You're... heavy," Yoshiki whispered, with a small smile, more for himself than for Hikaru, trying not to move him and break the moment.

Hikaru murmured something unintelligible, adjusting himself better, and Yoshiki understood that it was a kind of "I know, but I don't care." That simple response made him feel strange and happy at the same time. He looked out the window at the landscape passing by, the sun disappearing behind the hills, and thought about how easy it was to lose oneself in Hikaru's presence.

The day had been perfect, and Yoshiki understood that, although Noharu still existed in their world, for the first time, Hikaru was beginning to be his alone. And that, although simple, filled him with a silent and deep happiness that he didn't want to let go.

The train continued on its way, rocking them gently. Yoshiki leaned his head slightly against Hikaru's, accepting the closeness and enjoying that quiet, intimate, and absolutely personal moment.

. . .

The night had fallen over the small town, and the street lights dimly lit the windows of the house. Hikaru entered with a light step, still with the smell of salt and sand on his clothes. His shoes made a slight noise as they brushed against the wooden floor while he walked to the living room, where Noharu was sitting with a book in his hands, although clearly not reading it. Hikaru, with a carefully folded paper bag, handed it to his brother.

"Noharu!" he said enthusiastically, approaching. "Look, Yoshiki asked me to give you this."

Noharu took the bag with surprise and curiosity. He opened it slowly and found small souvenirs from the beach: colorful shells, a lighthouse keychain, and a bead bracelet that seemed made especially for him. His eyes lit up, and for a moment, a genuine smile appeared on his face.

"Thanks!" he exclaimed, lifting the bag carefully, as if each object were a treasure. "It's... very nice."

Hikaru nodded, satisfied, pleased to see his brother happy.

But then, Hikaru took out his phone and started showing him photos from the day at the beach, him running on the waves, the sandcastles, Yoshiki with the sunscreen in his hand, focused, and the shared laughter. Noharu smiled at first, thinking about the fun they had, but soon his expression changed.

Every photo, every gesture of Yoshiki towards Hikaru, every moment captured that showed their closeness and complicity, hit him hard. That smile that had been pure joy began to tighten. His heart started to race, and a pang of jealousy seeped in, silent but intense.

"Look at this one!" Hikaru said, pointing to a photo in which both appeared covered in sunscreen, with their cheeks flushed from the sun and laughter. "Yoshiki was so nervous!"

Noharu nodded, trying to keep his composure and his smile, but inside, he felt a knot in his stomach. The memories that had given him joy now reminded him that Yoshiki had spent the whole day focused on Hikaru, and that he could only watch from afar.

Still, he opened the bag of souvenirs carefully, touching each object, trying to reconcile the joy of receiving something from Yoshiki with the silent pain of the closeness between his brother and Yoshiki. His external smile remained, but his mind was in conflict, between gratitude and the desire to have all of Yoshiki's attention for himself.

. . .

Yoshiki lay awake in the darkness, his heart pounding with a mix of guilt and desire. The memory of the beach, of Hikaru's sun-kissed skin, and the intimate moment of applying sunscreen played in his mind like a loop. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Hikaru had looked at him, the warmth of his body, and the softness of his skin under his fingers. He felt a familiar heat building in his chest and his groin, a sensation that made his breath hitch and his hands tremble.

He glanced at the clock, its red numbers glowing in the darkness. It was past midnight, and the house was silent, everyone else asleep. He knew he should be too, but his body was alive with a restless energy, a need that he couldn't ignore. He bit his lip, his heart racing as he decided to give in to the temptation.

Yoshiki slipped his hand under the covers, his breath quickening as he touched himself. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that made him gasp softly. He closed his eyes, picturing Hikaru's face, the way his eyes had sparkled in the sunlight, the way his lips had curved in a playful smile. He imagined the feel of his skin, the warmth of his body, and the way he had leaned into Yoshiki's touch.

His hand moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through his body. He bit his lip to stifle his moans, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the tension building, the heat spreading from his core, and he knew he was close.

Yoshiki's mind was a whirlwind of memories and fantasies, each one more intense than the last. He thought about the way Hikaru had looked at him, the way he had felt under his fingers, and the way he had laughed, so carefree and happy. He thought about the way he had wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips on his own, to taste the salt and the sun on his skin.

His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and he could feel the pleasure building, a wave that threatened to crash over him. He bit his lip harder, trying to keep his moans silent, but it was no use. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming, and he couldn't hold back.

Yoshiki's body tensed, his back arching as he came, his breath hitching in his throat. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but it was a losing battle. The pleasure was too much, and he couldn't help but let out a soft, broken moan, Hikaru's name on his lips.

He lay there for a moment, his body trembling and his heart pounding, the echoes of pleasure still dancing through his veins. He felt a mix of satisfaction and guilt, a sense of having done something both right and wrong. He knew he should feel bad, that he should be ashamed, but he couldn't help but smile, a soft, secret smile that only he could see.

Yoshiki took a deep, shaky breath, his body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He knew he should sleep, that he needed to rest, but he couldn't stop thinking about Hikaru, about the way he had looked at him, about the way he had felt. He knew he would be thinking about him for a long time, that this moment would be etched in his memory, a secret he would keep close to his heart.

Chapter Text

On Monday, during the break between classes, Yoshiki leaned his elbow on the desk and brought his phone close to the surface. On the screen, a trailer for a new action movie flashed to the rhythm of sirens and engines. Slow-motion explosions, impossible camera angles, a battered hero grinning at the edge of a skyscraper. Yoshiki’s gaze was absorbed, the kind of look that only showed up when something really excited him.

A shadow leaned over his shoulder, and a warm breath brushed his ear, making him shiver.

"Ah… that title," Noharu murmured, smiling with a mix of shyness and excitement. "I read the manga. The bridge chapter blew my mind. I’d love to see it."

Yoshiki turned his head just a little, surprised by the coincidence. Noharu, afraid his courage would slip away, blurted the idea out in one go: "We could go after school."

The phrase sounded simple; inside, though, Noharu felt like his chest had just burst open like a window. A light blush climbed his cheeks, and he thought he might just die from nerves and anticipation.

Yoshiki nodded, practical, without ceremony. "Sure. After school."

Noharu looked away, pretending calm. His heart, though, beat with a secret, joyful rhythm.

. . .

Noharu still hadn’t fully settled into Kubitachi. In class, people mixed up his name; in the yard, some classmates joked with him but were really talking to his brother. Others looked at him like he was the “second edition” of Hikaru, just with more brains. The history teacher called him “Hikaru” for the third time, and the laughter buzzed around like an annoying insect. Noharu hunched slightly in his chair and forced himself to copy down dates with steady hands.

At lunch, he sat at the far end of the table. The conversations around him were like little islands. He thought, just to himself, "If I were Hikaru, I’d already have an audience." And then he remembered Yoshiki’s words, the ones that had disarmed him days ago: "Your eyes are different from your dumb brother’s." He held onto them like a lucky charm in his pocket. That was enough; he didn’t need to convince anyone else.

And although he didn’t allow himself to fully admit it, his other “gift” pulsed quietly. Whenever he glanced at Yoshiki, there was a clear, steady glow, like a star that always returned to the same spot. He didn’t dare look for too long. Just knowing it was there was enough.

. . .

In the mid-afternoon, on the second floor hallway, Yoshiki caught Hikaru by the vending machines. "We’re going to the movies today. You coming?"

Hikaru, with his bag strap hanging off one shoulder, froze a beat too long. The "ah" got stuck in his throat before he curved his lips into a smile that sounded like an apology.

"Today I promised I’d help Satou-san with some club stuff. Sorry."

Yoshiki nodded immediately, fast —too fast— as if the words had been rehearsed. "Got it."

But he didn’t get it at all. Or maybe he did, and that’s why it hurt so much. The rejection stabbed through his chest, sharper than it should’ve been. He felt like he always expected too much from Hikaru, always stretching the rope until it snapped, as if insisting could squeeze out a little more closeness.

He bit his tongue before any sadness could slip out. He didn’t want it to show. He buried it under his usual mask, the one of the calm guy who never asks for anything.

He’d still go, he told himself. He wasn’t going to cancel just because Hikaru ditched him. Even though, deep down, all he really wanted was to share the dark theater with him.

The thought twisted inside him, disgusting, impossible. What gross feelings, he thought. Disgusting me, for wanting him like this.

He resigned himself with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He disguised his defeat in that "Got it," as if there was nothing else behind it.

From a distance, Noharu caught sight of the exchange. And while for Yoshiki the afternoon had already lost something vital, in Noharu’s eyes a secret spark lit up: this time, the seat beside him would be free. This time, it would be just for him.

. . .

The final bell split the day in two. Outside, the air had a peach-colored glow, and bikes lined up like silver fish against the gate. Noharu and Yoshiki walked to the station without hurry. The crunch of gravel underfoot, the hum of train wires, the late cry of a cicada —everything seemed to whisper "we’re leaving the school map behind."

On the platform, they stood in the shade of a beam. Yoshiki flipped through the movie app; Noharu pretended to check messages so he wouldn’t get caught staring. The train arrived with a metallic sigh and, once seated, silence settled —not hostile, but asking for something.

Noharu tried to break the ice. "So, I read the director changed the manga’s ending… Does that bother you when they do that?"

"Not if they justify it," Yoshiki said, watching the scenery flow like dark water. "If not, it pisses me off."

"Mm," Noharu nodded, searching for another thread of conversation. A pang of doubt hit him —not envy, just uncertainty. "If I were Hikaru, I’d say something dumb and make him laugh. Should I…?" He stopped himself. No. He wanted to be himself. Even if the silence felt too big, just being next to Yoshiki like this was already a reward.

Yoshiki, meanwhile, was relaxed. His body loose, like someone about to do something simple they enjoy. Open, without going further. There was a calm in him that promised nothing, but offered company.

. . .

The theater lobby wrapped them in the heavy smell of melted butter and cool air. Neon buzzed above the posters, seas of color floating over dark walls.

Noharu held the door nervously, waiting for Yoshiki to walk in first. Yoshiki, without much thought, strode ahead to the ticket booth. He had checked showtimes twice before asking Hikaru; now, with him absent, the gesture gave him an air of confidence he didn’t really feel.

When it came to ordering food, they hesitated at the same time. "Wanna share?" Yoshiki asked, holding up the large soda. Noharu’s smile was immediate, almost too quick. "Yeah."

Such a simple agreement, such a small complicity… but to Noharu it sounded like a miracle, not to mention the indirect kiss.

The dark theater swallowed them along with the murmur of voices and crinkling bags. They sat in the middle row, the world reduced to their two seats and the flicker of the screen.

As the trailers started to glow, the light brushed over Noharu’s face, painting him silver over and over. Yoshiki noticed from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t meant to look, but found himself doing it anyway: each explosion cast new shadows under his lashes; each pause left a quiet tenderness on his lips.

It was… beautiful to watch him watching. Too beautiful.

Their hands brushed inside the popcorn bucket. A brief, almost accidental touch. Noharu pulled his hand back a second later than he should’ve, pretending distraction. Yoshiki didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed on the screen, though he was painfully aware of the warmth left in his fingers.

Halfway through the second act, when a comic scene sent the theater laughing, Yoshiki found himself laughing at the exact same time as Noharu. The synchronicity was tiny, but enough to ignite an uncomfortable warmth inside him. He didn’t know what to call it.

When they came out, the lobby had quieted down: lower voices, softer lights. They walked among the giant posters, still talking.

"The viaduct shot…" Yoshiki gestured with his hands, eyes glowing. "That wasn’t CGI. You can tell by how the camera breathes."

"In the manga, that same moment is done in three diagonal panels. In the second, the hero looks like he’s falling, but in the third… the axis flips. Here they pulled it off with a sound cut. It was elegant," Noharu added.

Yoshiki stopped for a moment, staring at him. There was something in that mix of calm and sharpness that threw him off. Like discovering a bright crack in a stone he thought he knew. He almost said something. He didn’t. He bit his tongue.

The arcade bathed them in flashing lights, sharp sounds, and colors that seemed to breathe. Noharu paused in front of a claw machine without realizing, eyes fixed on the figures inside. Characters he knew too well. His eyes sparkled with a barely contained, almost childlike glow.

Yoshiki watched him from the side. That way he stayed still, face painted in blue light, disarmed him. He didn’t say anything; he just slipped a coin into the slot.

The lever creaked under his fingers. He measured the distance, took a breath. He moved the claw with exaggerated focus, as if more than a toy was at stake.

The claw dropped. Grabbed the figure loosely. Rose wobbling. And against all odds, dropped the prize into the tray.

A tiny triumphant jingle burst from the speakers.

Noharu laughed, surprised, and leaned to grab the figure. His eyes lit up with a nearly unreal sparkle.

"That was… awesome," Noharu said, holding the figure carefully. "I’m really going to treasure this."

Yoshiki looked away, feeling the heat rising in his chest. That kind of pure gratitude hit him harder than he expected.

He slipped another coin in without thinking much. Repeated the move, and again, won.

Noharu hugged both figures to his chest, smiling with a transparency Yoshiki didn’t remember seeing in anyone. For him, that small, simple gesture was enough to make the day perfect.

. . .

When they stepped back outside, the night had already spread across the sky. Streetlights drew puddles of gold on the pavement, the cool breeze brushed their skin, and the murmur of the day seemed to have faded. They walked in silence for the first half block; Yoshiki spoke just enough, short comments about the credits, about the last scene that "stuck with him." Noharu listened to every word and pause, storing it like something precious.

Against his own nerves, Noharu took Yoshiki’s arm. First gently, testing the waters, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile balance; then, firmly, interlacing his fingers with Yoshiki’s. It wasn’t showy; it was exact, like holding onto an anchor for calm. Yoshiki tensed, then spoke softly.

"H-Hey… people could misread this," he said.

There was no reproach, only caution. Noharu, in contrast, breathed deep and replied in a small but steady voice:

"I know people talk… but at this hour, nobody’s around. I can be me, for a while."

Yoshiki closed his eyes for a moment. Noharu’s warm, steady arm pressed to him; his cheek brushing Yoshiki’s shoulder like a curled-up cat. The tenderness made him dizzy: the warmth of his skin, the quiet closeness, the fragility that could hold. He smiled faintly, letting the night compress into that shared instant.

"You seem like a cat," Yoshiki murmured, more to himself than to Noharu.

"Then… let me stay with you a bit longer," Noharu whispered, his voice trembling with sincerity and courage.

Every step toward Yoshiki’s house was full of warmth, small accidental touches, and the certainty of being able to be together, even if just a little.

At the door, Noharu didn’t let go of his arm. The yellow porch light made the old wood look cozy, almost welcoming. Noharu looked up, vulnerable, opening his heart.

"Thanks for today… I really liked being with you. I like you, Yoshiki… and I want to watch more movies with you."

It wasn’t a loud declaration, but surrender and bravery intertwined, a tremble in his lips and voice that seemed to hang in the air.

Yoshiki looked away, feeling heat rise to his chest. Hikaru would never have done something like this, never put that beautiful, confusing Noharu face in front of him. He breathed deep and answered softly,

"It's okay… we’ll go again."

His smile was shy and sincere, a mix of gratitude and a feeling he was just beginning to understand.

Noharu stepped back two paces, carrying the bag of figures in one hand, waving slightly with the other. His warm, gentle smile lit up the porch light, and Yoshiki watched for a moment longer, feeling something inside him settle differently. The afternoon had left its mark: warm, quiet, and full of something that promised to grow.

That night, after closing the door behind him, Yoshiki dropped his backpack by the coat rack and went straight to his room. The silence of the house wrapped around him, familiar, but instead of comfort, it felt strange, too big. He fell onto his bed without turning on the light, the ceiling floating invisibly above him.

The cool air coming through the window should have cleared his head, but it didn’t. Every minute stuck to the memory of Noharu’s fingers intertwined with his.

It felt strange. Yoshiki wasn’t the type to cling to anyone; he had always known how to let go before it hurt. With Hikaru, though, he could never do it. He kept chasing his attention as if he needed it to breathe, even while pushing him away again and again. With Noharu, though… there was no chase, no struggle. Just the quiet of someone looking at him as if he was enough.

The tenderness unsettled him. Not because it was fake —Noharu carried it with such transparency there was no room for doubt— but because it disarmed him. He didn’t know what to do with this warmth that had settled in his chest.

He wondered if it was okay to feel this way. Wasn’t it unfair? Was he betraying what he still felt for Hikaru? The thought tangled with anger and shame: was he using Noharu to fill a gap? He didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t want to be that kind of person.

But he couldn’t ignore what he’d felt when Noharu rested his cheek on his shoulder. That gesture had been engraved on his skin, claimed for him. And remembering it, Yoshiki realized he didn’t want to push it away.

He rolled onto his side, covering his face with his arm, trying to smother the chaos in his chest.

"What’s happening to me…?" he muttered into the sleeve.

When he closed his eyes, he saw Hikaru, always elusive, always bright and teasing. But when he opened them, the echo left behind wasn’t Hikaru’s laugh —it was Noharu’s calm eyes, his voice saying, "I can be me, for a while."

That contrast tore him in two. On one side, the forbidden, twisted desire that had eaten at him for months. On the other, the unexpected tenderness that wrapped around him without asking for anything. A tenderness that, for the first time, didn’t hurt.

He sighed, letting the darkness cover him completely. He didn’t have the answers yet. But one certainty remained: Noharu had touched him in a way that couldn’t be erased. Even if he tried to ignore it, even if he wanted to mask it, that night had opened something inside him.

And he didn’t know if he was ready to let it grow.

Chapter Text

Yoshiki had been stuck in a silent whirlwind of emotions for days. He thought about both outings, the beach with Hikaru and the movie with Noharu. Only one of those outings had left him with the feeling of a date, of a moment he could call his own, the one with Noharu. He knew that Noharu felt something for him, but there was never any pressure, any obligations, any expectations that made him feel trapped. With Noharu, everything was easy, light, like floating in the air. The town seemed less heavy, the routine less oppressive, when he was by his side.

But then there was Hikaru. Every time he appeared, something in his chest stirred like an uncontrollable drum. His heart broke into a thousand pieces every time he saw Hikaru with Satou-san, but all it took was a simple gesture, a playful glance, a provocative smile, and everything was rebuilt with strength, as if those broken pieces were pieces that only Hikaru knew how to fit. He had always offered him refuge, an escape from Kubitachi, but Yoshiki had never felt comfortable showing him what he really felt. He had learned to disguise his heart for years, and yet, the temptation to bare it in front of Hikaru was too powerful.

The truth was clear: Hikaru had always liked him. A lot. His first friend, his first crush, a place in his heart that no one else could occupy. Noharu had similar gestures, soft, warm, like cotton candy clouds, but with Hikaru it was pure adrenaline, excitement, anxiety… a fire that kept him awake, that consumed him in a delicious and dangerous way. Both were addictive in their own way, both claimed a different part of his heart, and Yoshiki didn't know how to balance them.

Time moved on, and autumn began to draw its first footprints over Kubitachi. The village prepared for its annual festival, full of food stalls, hanging lights, mini-games, and rituals.

. . .

That afternoon, the sunlight came through the window of the room, drawing golden stripes on the floor as Yoshiki, Noharu, and Hikaru shared watermelon. The three were sitting on the floor, surrounded by cushions and watermelon rinds, taking turns on the console to play Smash. Each hit, each combo, was accompanied by laughter, exclamations, and the occasional frustrated shout.

"Hey, you can't do that!" Noharu exclaimed, lightly hitting Yoshiki's arm as his character fell off the platform. "Cheater!"

"It's not cheating, it's strategy," Yoshiki replied, smiling as he adjusted the controller. "Learn to anticipate my moves."

"Yeah, right… you always say that," Hikaru said, raising an eyebrow as his character threw Noharu off the stage. "Ha! I beat you again."

Noharu frowned, but then let out a laugh, and Yoshiki could only watch with a amused smile as the two constantly teased each other. The room was filled with energy, laughter that seemed to fill every corner.

It was then that Hikaru, lying on a cushion with his arms behind his head, let out a sentence that momentarily cut the noise of the games:

"I want to go to the festival," he said casually, as if he wasn't calculating every word, although Yoshiki noticed a slight glint in his eyes.

Noharu blinked, and his eyes lit up immediately.

"Seriously?" he asked, putting the controller aside, his voice full of excitement. "That would be great! In Tokyo, festivals are always full of tourists and noise… here… here it feels different. Closer, more authentic."

Yoshiki nodded slowly, feeling a small tingling of excitement in his chest. He looked at Kaoru, who was playing with a piece of watermelon beside him, and thought that he would have to take her anyway. Besides… the idea of spending the day out of town with Hikaru and Noharu was strangely attractive.

"Well," Yoshiki said, with a shy smile, "if we go to the festival, I also have to take Kaoru. I don't want her to be alone… and, well, I guess a day out of this place won't do us any harm."

Hikaru sat up a bit, crossing his arms with a lopsided smile.

"Perfect. Then I'm going to challenge you in all the fair games and win all the prizes to prove who's the best," he said in a joking tone, but with a challenging glint in his eyes.

Noharu laughed, a sweet sound that filled the room.

"Ha! Let's see if you really can, Hikaru. Yoshiki always beats us both…"

"That's not true," Yoshiki protested, raising an eyebrow as Noharu looked at him with amusement. "I only play seriously when I want to, and besides, someone has to make sure Kaoru gets a prize too."

Hikaru rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed that he was already enjoying the plan. Yoshiki felt his heart skip a beat. There was something in Noharu's excitement, in Hikaru's playful attitude, that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in normal days.

"So it's decided," Noharu said, interlacing his fingers and looking at Yoshiki. "We're going to the festival!"

Hikaru leaned forward, resting an elbow on Yoshiki's knee and whispering, with a mischievous smile:

"Get ready to lose, bro," and his eyes gleamed with that glint that made Yoshiki forget everything else.

Yoshiki could only laugh, feeling the excitement starting to rise, mixed with a small tingling in his chest. That day promised to be… complicated, fun, and much more intense than he had ever imagined.

. . .

The festival burst in a whirlwind of lights, colors, and aromas. Red and gold lanterns hung from the stalls, reflecting in the eyes of the attendees. The air was filled with takoyaki, cotton candy, and spiced sweets, and the laughter of children mixed with the shouts of excitement from the players of the various fair games.

Yoshiki stopped in front of a shooting range. The biggest and most colorful stuffed animals were displayed behind the glass, like irresistible temptations. He aimed first at the largest one, the one he knew Kaoru would want, and then noticed one that caught Noharu's attention: a soft plush of a black cat, with big, bright eyes, that seemed to look directly at him. His heart skipped a beat; the excitement in Noharu's face was impossible to ignore.

"Do you want it?" Yoshiki asked, leaning slightly towards Noharu so only he could hear.

Noharu nodded, with bright eyes and slightly faster breathing than usual. His hands tensed, and Yoshiki noticed how his body seemed to anticipate each of his shots.

Hikaru was by his side, crossing his arms, silently observing the scene. His brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes followed every gesture of Yoshiki, every smile of Noharu, radiating jealousy and barely contained discomfort. Each of Yoshiki's shots was a silent challenge that Hikaru couldn't ignore.

With total concentration, Yoshiki aimed first at Kaoru's plush. One shot, two shots… and finally the target fell. Yoshiki took the plush and placed it in Kaoru's arms, who shouted with joy and hugged the doll as if it were a treasure.

Then, Yoshiki aimed at the plush that Noharu wanted. He felt the pressure of Hikaru's gaze on his back, but didn't let it intimidate him. Each shot became more calculated, more precise, until finally, with a last sure movement, he knocked down the target. He took the plush and handed it to Noharu.

"Thanks, Yoshiki!" Noharu exclaimed, hugging the plush tightly and with bright eyes of excitement. "You're amazing…"

Hikaru, unable to contain himself any longer, approached with a half-smile and placed an arm on Yoshiki's shoulder, lightly but significantly touching his side.

"My little brother isn't your girlfriend to give him plushies," he said in that playful and challenging tone that always made Yoshiki blush.

Kaoru let out a spontaneous laugh, while Yoshiki lowered his gaze, uncomfortable and feeling a heat in his chest that he couldn't explain. Noharu lowered his eyes, blushing, still hugging the plush that Yoshiki had just won for him.

Hikaru let out a low, dangerous, and charming laugh at the same time, as if he knew he had just caused a small emotional chaos between the three.

"You guys are weird," he said finally, tilting his head and looking at both. "Both of you."

The rest of the day continued with small silent confrontations: every gesture of attention from Yoshiki towards Noharu provoked a flash of jealousy in Hikaru; every shared smile, every joke or accidental touch of hands was observed with suspicion. Noharu, for his part, got a little closer to Yoshiki every time he could, with a mixture of excitement and shyness.

Yoshiki, in the middle of everything, remained as an axis, enjoying the atmosphere of the festival, the laughter of Hikaru, the warmth of Noharu's hands, and the simple joy of Kaoru. Without realizing it, he found himself in the middle of a triangle of emotions where tenderness, jealousy, and affection intertwined in every gesture, in every glance. Every step through the illuminated alleys seemed to bring them closer, but also lit small embers of tension that none of the three could ignore.

Yoshiki stayed a few steps back, watching Hikaru as he approached a group of guys at one of the festival stalls. The way he talked, laughing naturally, how he gestured with enthusiasm as he explained something, all seemed to attract the attention of those around him. It wasn't a conscious act, he didn't try to impress anyone; he simply shone.

Yoshiki felt a knot in his chest. Every smile of Hikaru, every laugh that escaped effortlessly, seemed to light up everything around him, and Yoshiki couldn't take his eyes off him. For so long, his life had been gray, routine, with days that seemed all the same and a constant feeling of emptiness that he didn't know how to fill. But Hikaru… Hikaru had that own light, that joy that didn't depend on him or anyone, and yet, somehow, reached him.

He watched him share a joke with one of the guys, leaning forward with that smile of his that always made Yoshiki's heart race, even if he tried not to think about it too much. He saw how he moved with ease among them, how his energy seemed to infect everyone around, how even the small glances of complicity he threw at his friends made Yoshiki feel that his whole gray world gained color.

"Always has been like that," Yoshiki thought, with a strange weight in his chest and a mixture of admiration and sadness. "Always has shone… and I… I can only watch from here."

He followed him with his eyes as Hikaru made a joke to another guy, causing laughter in everyone. Just at that moment, Noharu approached, walking softly beside him.

"I can understand how you feel," Noharu said, with a low, calm, almost whispering voice, among the festival's noise. "Always… I've always felt that my brother is too great and cute to be real. No matter what he does, how he acts, even when he's angry or distracted… he seems to make everything he touches extraordinary. His laughter, the way he talks, the way he makes people follow him without even trying… it's like he doesn't belong in this world."

Yoshiki looked at him, surprised by the sincerity and depth of Noharu's words. His heart tightened a little; he could understand exactly what he said. The way Hikaru lived, his natural joy and contagious energy, seemed too bright, almost unreal.

"Always amazed me," Noharu continued, lowering his voice a little, almost confessing to himself. "Since I was a kid, I felt I couldn't keep up with him. It was impossible to compare, impossible to measure my own light when he was near. And yet… seeing him so happy now, surrounded by friends, sharing his energy… makes me proud, even though… it reminds me how hard it was to see my own light."

Yoshiki nodded, feeling a strange weight mixed with admiration and clarity.

"He's amazing," Yoshiki said, more to himself than to Noharu. "Your brother is… really amazing."

Noharu smiled softly, as if thanking Yoshiki's silent understanding.

"Yep," he murmured. "Too great to be real, and yet… here he is. And seeing him like this, enjoying himself, makes me understand a little more how we can get close to him… and yet, never stop admiring him."

Yoshiki lowered his gaze, letting the feeling of respect, admiration, and a thread of melancholy settle within him. There was something in the way Noharu talked about his brother that gave him perspective: Hikaru didn't need to be perfect to impact his life; his mere presence, his natural energy, was enough to give color and meaning to Yoshiki's gray days.

For a moment, both were silent, watching Hikaru laugh and move among the others, aware of the intensity of that light that always seemed to exceed all limits. No more words were needed: seeing Hikaru like that, bright and alive, was enough in itself to change the way Yoshiki perceived his own world.

. . .

By night, Kaoru had gone with her mother, leaving Yoshiki, Hikaru, and Noharu alone. They sat down to eat granita ice cream in a quiet corner of the festival, away from the noise. Blue, yellow, and red shone under the lantern light, reflecting the mixture of joy and fun that hovered between them.

Hikaru looked at his ice cream curiously.

"Hey… why do they taste different?" he asked, frowning.

"They don't taste different," Yoshiki replied calmly. "They all have the same flavor, but people interpret it differently because they look different."

Hikaru opened his eyes exaggeratedly and then looked at Noharu, who seemed ready to contradict him:

"That doesn't make sense!" Noharu protested, pointing at the yellow ice cream. "My tongue says the yellow tastes better!"

"Of course not!" Hikaru replied, pointing at the blue and sticking out his tongue. "The blue tastes much sweeter!"

Yoshiki sighed and watched them, amused. The brothers started to push each other gently and shout silly words, making exaggerated pouts and dramatic gestures:

"You're an idiot!" Hikaru shouted, puffing out his cheeks.

"No, you're the idiot!" Noharu replied, pouting his lips and crossing his arms, making a huge pout. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!" they both shouted almost at the same time, turning their heads and throwing dramatic looks at Yoshiki.

"Stop for a second!" Yoshiki said, laughing, raising his hands. "Both of you are idiots without remedy!"

The brothers made an even more exaggerated pout, with pursed lips, puffed cheeks, and bright eyes of "indignation". Hikaru even hit the table with his fist as Noharu looked at the sky, as if seeking celestial support for his injustice.

After a moment, they began to walk among the temples illuminated by the lanterns. Noharu, still a little angry but with a hidden smile, took Yoshiki's hand. Yoshiki smiled and, without losing the habit, placed an arm on Noharu's shoulder and ruffled his hair softly.

As they walked among the illuminated temples, the two brothers started another argument, this time about their height:

"I'm taller than you!" Noharu said, puffing out his chest. "You have to admit it!"

"No!" Hikaru protested, making a pout. "You're a midget!"

"No, I'm 2 centimeters taller!" Noharu insisted, with a frown, glancing at Hikaru. "2 centimeters!!

"2 centimeters?" Yoshiki said, laughing, taking the role of the voice of reason. "That doesn't count. It's because of your shoes, Noharu. Without them, you two are the same height.

"Liar!" Noharu huffed, crossing his arms and making a huge pout, as Hikaru laughed mischievously. "I'm still taller!"

"Idiot," Hikaru replied, puffing out his cheeks and pointing at him. "Midget."

"Imbecile!" Noharu responded, gently hitting Hikaru's arm and giving a final pout. "You're a midget too!"

Yoshiki sighed, amused, as he watched them exchange gentle shoves, looks, and contained laughter. The scene was absurd, tender, and light, and his heart felt warm to see them like that.

After the argument about who was taller, Noharu took Hikaru's hand gently, and his gaze shifted for a moment towards Yoshiki. His face blushed slightly, a mixture of shyness and excitement lighting up his cheeks.

"Thanks… really," Noharu whispered, with a barely audible voice. "I'm glad you're here… both of you."

Hikaru, a little surprised by his brother's sincerity, smiled and placed an arm on Noharu's shoulder, ruffling his hair affectionately in a natural and protective gesture.

"You don't have to thank me… little brother," Hikaru said in his usual tone, playful but full of warmth.

Yoshiki, for his part, leaned slightly towards Noharu, smiling shyly, and held his free shoulder gently, patting him as if reinforcing his presence and support.

Noharu, still blushing, looked at both of them. The lantern light illuminated his bright eyes and colored cheeks. For a moment, all the noise of the festival disappeared: only the intertwined hands, the gestures of affection, and the silent connection that united them remained.

Yoshiki felt a soft warmth in his chest, watching the tenderness of the scene. The way Hikaru and Noharu understood each other without words, and how he could also be part of that bond, filled him with a quiet but intense warmth. At that moment, the festival, the lanterns, and the ice creams seemed secondary details; what mattered was the complicity that the three shared, delicate, fun, and perfect.

. . .

Hikaru walked away to buy takoyakis, leaving them alone in a lane illuminated by dim lanterns. The festival's noise seemed distant, like a background murmur. Yoshiki and Noharu walked a little slower, alone in the quietest and most secluded corner of the festival. The lantern lights and the shadows of the temples created a secluded alley, a space that seemed made just for them.

"I never thought a festival could feel like this," Noharu said, taking a deep breath as he held the plush. "With you… it feels different, more… safe."

Yoshiki smiled softly, walking beside him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Yoshiki replied. "You also make it feel different… I don't know how to explain it."

Noharu looked down, hugging the plush even tighter and resting his hand on Yoshiki's arm.

"It's weird," he whispered. "I always thought everything here was boring or heavy… but with you, it's easy. I feel… calm."

Impelled by a gesture that was almost instinctive, Yoshiki pushed a strand of hair from Noharu's face and tucked it behind his ear. It was a small, almost trivial movement, but enough to stop Noharu's heart for a moment. His face blushed, and without thinking, he hugged Yoshiki's arm and pressed his cheek against his shoulder, it seemed to have become a habit to do that.

Yoshiki, already accustomed to Noharu's affectionate gestures at this point, allowed him to lean on him. Each step felt lighter, but also more tense, the closeness, the warmth of Noharu's body, the fragility of that silent moment. He kept an eye out for anyone who might see them, aware that they were surrounded by people and the curious gaze of passersby.

"You're… so nice to me," Noharu murmured, with a soft laugh. "You always know how to make me blush."

"I don't notice," Yoshiki replied, nervous and amused. "I guess it just… happens."

A loud noise interrupted the moment, the takoyakis that Hikaru carried fell to the ground with a sharp sound that echoed among the temples.

Noharu and Yoshiki turned towards the sound. Noharu tightened his grip on the plush, while Yoshiki watched as the aroma of the takoyakis and the light from the stalls enveloped their faces.

They didn't say anything. They stood in silence for a moment, letting the moment remain suspended between them, as fragile and perfect as a thread of light between the lanterns.

The festival, with its noise and colors, seemed to fade away. All that mattered now was that closeness, that gesture, the plush in Noharu's arms, and the feeling that something was about to happen… just as the night began to deepen its shadows.

Chapter Text

Hikaru stopped suddenly. The crunch of his wet sneakers on the asphalt sounded louder than the distant festival noise. At that moment, Yoshiki and Noharu pulled apart immediately, almost violently, as if they had been caught doing something forbidden. Their reaction was instinctive, but for Hikaru, it confirmed what he feared: something was happening.

His face hardened. The cheerful expression he had just minutes ago, while looking for food with a growling stomach, had vanished. He didn’t even glance at the takoyaki slipping from the box and squashing on the wet ground. His voice, low and sharp, cut through the night.

"Why were you so close to Noharu?"

Yoshiki felt those words pierce him like needles. "It’s not what it looks like… it’s not…" But his throat was tight, unable to form a sound. Hikaru’s look of disgust hit him like a thousand knives, pushing him inward. His chest ached, his stomach twisted, and blind remorse gnawed from within.

Seeing his brother’s harsh gaze, Noharu tried to muster courage. He swallowed and spoke, his voice trembling, words stumbling over each other.

"Hikaru, it’s not what you think… really… I… I just wanted to thank Yoshiki for staying with me today. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who—"

The silence Hikaru returned was more brutal than a scream. His eyes were blades, his furrowed brow a wall impossible to climb.

"Disgusting…" he finally spat, clear and cruel, each word like carefully bottled poison.

Time fractured in that instant. The air itself seemed to freeze. Then, without looking back, Hikaru turned, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows cast by the streetlights. Every step took him further until he merged with the damp darkness of the street. The takoyaki remained, crushed against the ground.

Yoshiki breathed quickly, eyes wide as if the floor had been ripped from under him. He raised his hands to his hair, tugging at it in despair. His fingers shook, unable to find relief.

"Hikaru…" he murmured, as if saying that name could hold him back. But it was too late.

Noharu stepped forward, clutching the plush toy against his chest, reaching out to Yoshiki’s shoulder. He touched him softly, trembling as well, trying to calm him, to stop the collapse he saw in his eyes.

"Yoshiki, don’t… don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault—"

Yoshiki’s hand flung back sharply, almost violently. He recoiled as if the touch burned him. His gaze was lost, clouded with anguish.

"This… this is a mistake," he finally said, his voice broken and rough, as if tearing from within. He didn’t even look at him as he spoke.

Without giving him time to react, he turned and ran, chasing Hikaru’s shadow.

Noharu froze. The wet street, which had seemed only cold minutes before, now enveloped him like a prison. The festival still lived in the distance—laughter, music, fireworks fading against the autumn sky. But for him, everything had gone dark.

He looked at his hands, trembling, clutching the plush toy that Yoshiki had given him. He buried his face in its soft fabric, seeking refuge in the only warmth left. The toy, a symbol of a happy moment, now felt heavy in his arms, a cruel reminder.

"I see…" he whispered, so low the rain almost carried it away.

A tear rolled down his cheek and was absorbed by the plush. Then another, and another. His lips trembled, but no one was there to witness his breaking. He remained like that, in the middle of the street, surrounded by puddles and echoes, holding the only thing that hadn’t abandoned him that night.

. . .

The walk home felt endless to Noharu. The echo of his lonely steps, the distant festival murmur, and the damp air wrapped around him like a shroud. Questions raged in his mind: why did Hikaru react that way? Why did anything close to Yoshiki hurt him, as if it were a threat? He knew their town was rigid, far more conservative than Tokyo, but he also knew another, sharper truth: his brother felt something for Yoshiki, even if he would never admit it.

Clutching the plush to his chest, Noharu felt the vertigo of a devastating doubt:
"Are my feelings really mine… or Hikaru’s? Am I feeling what he can’t admit?"

The question brought him to the edge of a breakdown. His breathing became unsteady, and for a moment, the ground seemed to tilt beneath him.

When he finally arrived, the gate creaked like a funeral warning. The house was dark, only faintly lit by the streetlight. He knew his mother wasn’t home—she was still with their grandfather at the festival. That meant only one thing: inside, it was just him… and Hikaru.

The tension was palpable. A dense silence hit him the moment he crossed the threshold, a silence that seemed to watch him from every corner, echoing the resentment from earlier. The air felt heavy, as if the walls had absorbed anger and spat it back.

Noharu placed the plush gently on the table, absurdly delicate, as if the object could break. The contrast was cruel—a tender gesture in a violent atmosphere. He was about to head to his room, exhausted by the drama, but Hikaru appeared first, blocking his way, his face still tight with anger.

Hikaru had slammed the door behind him, leaving an icy echo in the house as if even the walls had shuddered.

"Why did you do that?" Noharu asked quietly, not daring to fully turn toward him.

Hikaru, chest rising and falling rapidly, didn’t lift his head. His voice came out sharp, like a knife that could no longer be sheathed.

"Because I’m sick of it… Yoshiki will never look at you like he looks at me."

The silence that followed was so heavy it seemed to swallow even the distant rain’s murmur. Noharu clenched his fists, for the first time raising his voice:

"So what?" he spat, eyes blazing. "So what if he looks at me? At least I care about him for real. You just play with him like his feelings don’t matter at all."

Hikaru finally lifted his head, a twisted smile that wasn’t happiness, but barely restrained rage.

"And you think he prefers you?" he whispered, almost mocking. "You wouldn’t even exist in his life if it weren’t for the fact he’s always been MY friend."

Noharu froze, but didn’t back down.

"Is that what you think?" he replied, voice trembling. "That I’m a nuisance? That I don’t matter on my own?"

Hikaru took a step closer, aggressive though he didn’t raise his hand.

"Sometimes I think you and I are doomed to the same fate… I’m the face and you’re the shadow. No matter how hard you try, you’ll always be left behind."

Those words hit harder than any punch. Noharu’s heart clenched painfully. The plush on the table, silent witness, seemed to look at him with the same tenderness Yoshiki had given hours earlier. But that tenderness now felt distant, dissolved in the dense air.

"You’re cruel…" he finally said, voice breaking. "And even if you won’t admit it… you’re the one who’s going to lose, not me."

The echo of Noharu’s words sank into Hikaru like a dagger. "You’re the one who’s going to lose, not me."

Without thinking, as if his own body betrayed him, Hikaru threw a punch at his brother. The dry impact echoed through the house, and Noharu stumbled back, hitting the table. The plush slid to the floor, rolling between them.

Noharu stayed still, touching his burning face, unsure whether his skin or his soul hurt more. He lifted his gaze, wounded yet defiant, opening his mouth to reply—but stopped.

Hikaru was crying.

Tears streamed clumsily, mingling with his ragged breathing. The fury that had driven him vanished in seconds, leaving only a broken boy, fist still trembling in the air.

"I-I didn’t…" he stammered, stepping back as if he didn’t recognize what he’d done. He covered his face with his hands, voice seeping through the cracks of his sobs. "I didn’t mean to, Noharu… I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Noharu looked down from the floor, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. For a moment, the anger he’d carried merged with compassion. He wanted to hate him, to yell, to hit back. But what stood before him wasn’t an enemy—it was his brother, broken in tears.

The house fell into unbearable silence, broken only by Hikaru’s sobs. Noharu clenched his fists, swallowing his pride, murmuring almost inaudibly:

"Why do you have to do this to me…?"

The plush remained on the floor, between them, like a border neither dared to cross.

The silence weighed like a slab. Noharu still had his cheek stinging from the punch, but what hurt more was the tremor in his brother’s voice. Hikaru had stepped back, covering his face, but his tears fell unchecked.

"Do you know what I feel?" Hikaru stuttered, voice breaking. "Fear… pure fear."

Noharu watched, bewildered, not daring to interrupt.

"I’m scared of being seen," Hikaru continued, lips trembling. "Of being seen as a monster… as someone disgusting. You don’t understand what it’s like, living with that voice in your head every single day, telling me what I feel for Yoshiki is gross. That if anyone found out, they’d point, they’d hate me, they’d crush me."

He hit his chest with a clenched fist, desperate.
"I don’t want to be that! I don’t want to be ‘that’ one everyone despises! Every time I get close to Yoshiki, every time I feel the urge to touch him, I feel sick… dirty. Like there’s something rotten inside me I can’t get out."

His sobs tore through him, raw and brutal. Noharu stepped forward, moved, but Hikaru raised a trembling hand, asking for space.

"And you… you can be by his side without fear. You hold him, you look at him, and nobody suspects a thing. But me… I can never do that without that damn word eating at my head." His eyes rose, red and burning, voice broken. "Disgusting."

Noharu felt those words cut through his chest. The hatred he had felt earlier melted into something sharper, a shared pain he had never voiced. He stepped closer, ignoring the warning, until they were face to face.

"Hikaru…" he murmured, voice trembling. "You’re not disgusting. You’re just… scared. But that doesn’t make you what you think."

Hikaru’s sobs shook the air like fragile glass about to shatter. Noharu stared at him without blinking, eyes red, breath uneven. And then he spoke, almost without realizing the weight of his words:

"You know…" his voice came out rough, as if something burned inside him, "you’re not the only one who’s felt that. Yoshiki too. He carries that fear… that guilt that crushes him every time he lets himself feel something."

Hikaru looked up, lips parted, surprised, but Noharu didn’t stop.

"I’ve seen it, you know?" he continued, stepping forward. "I’ve seen him swallow his tears, pretend nothing’s wrong, because he feels just as disgusting as you say you feel. And what have you done? Nothing. You never lifted a finger to ease that pain. You just hid. You pushed him away more."

The weight of those words froze him. Hikaru lowered his head, as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. Silence stretched, uncomfortable, unbearable.

Finally, in a broken voice, as if remembering was even painful, Hikaru whispered,
"I… made a promise, Noharu."

Noharu frowned.
"What promise?"

"To Dad…" he replied, almost choking on the tears. "He told me that when I found a girl I liked, I should get married as soon as possible. That I should be a family man, give grandchildren, continue the family name. And I… I want to honor that. I want… to have my own family. I want Dad to be proud of me, even though he’s gone."

His shoulders trembled, each word like a chain tightening around him.

Noharu didn’t respond immediately. He stared at him for a long moment, lips pressed together, then nodded silently. His heart was knotted, but he said nothing.

Inside, however, a cold thought crept in: "At least being away, I escaped those expectations."

And while Hikaru continued crying in front of him, Noharu realized that it wasn’t just their feelings for Yoshiki that separated them—it was also the weight of a legacy he no longer bore… but that was devouring his brother.

. . .

The room was shrouded in shadows, only broken by the orange light filtering in from the street. Yoshiki lay on the bed, but his body seemed too tense to rest. His hands dug into the sheets as if they would crumble beneath him. He breathed heavily, every inhalation a painful spasm.

Hikaru’s gaze haunted him. Not the one from calm afternoons or laughing together, but that other one—cold, filled with disgust.
"Disgusting."

The phrase drilled into him, echoing endlessly. He closed his eyes, and there it was: Hikaru’s tense lips, eyes like knives, looking at him as if he had discovered the filthiest part of him.

A shiver ran down his back, and his body responded with a wave of nausea. He turned onto his side, hands over his mouth as gagging gripped him. He didn’t vomit, but the bitter burn left a trail of fire in his chest and trembling limbs.

"I'm disgusting." The thought surfaced like a verdict. It wasn't doubt, wasn't fear. It was certainty.
Yoshiki lowered his gaze to his right hand. He contemplated it as if it belonged to someone else, trembling before his reddened eyes.

That hand... With that hand, he had masturbated countless times, had let himself be carried away countless times by the need, thinking of him. Of Hikaru. Of his sweaty body after workouts, of the curve of his back under the t-shirt, of his wet lips when he drank water. Each detail became an obscene spark in his mind.
Now that hand appeared to him as proof of the crime. He brought it to his chest, then pushed it away violently, disgusted. "With this hand, I contaminated him. With this hand, I betrayed him."

Tears welled up like a flood he couldn’t hold back. He sobbed in broken, jagged bursts, hitting the pillow with his nails as if trying to erase himself.

"I’m… a monster…" he whispered in a shattered breath.

The room gave no mercy. Silence was thick, interrupted only by distant crickets. The weight of loneliness crushed him, leaving only the echo of his own disgust.

Recalling Hikaru laughing was unbearable. Remembering his look of disdain destroyed him. Every memory was poison, and Yoshiki drank it without resistance.

For a second, a dark thought flashed like lightning: how easy it would be to stop struggling, to cease existing, to end the mire in which he was drowning. The shadow of that thought wrapped around him, freezing his bones.

He bit his lips until they bled, holding back a scream that threatened to tear his throat apart.
"I don’t deserve anyone. I don’t deserve to be near him. I don’t deserve anything."

He remained still, curled into himself, trembling.

The room was dense with darkness, barely broken by the bluish light of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the nightstand. Yoshiki, sunk into the bed, ignoring everything. He didn’t want to see, didn’t want to read. Each vibration pierced his nerves like a reminder that the world continued outside, though he wished it would vanish.

He covered his face with his forearm, trying to silence the lump in his throat, until the sound changed—it wasn’t just any vibration. It was the soft, discreet tone he had set long ago for one person. Hikaru.

His heart clenched. He reached for the phone awkwardly, nearly shaking, and unlocked it. A single message, cold, brief, almost hurtful in its simplicity.

Hikaru: "I’m sorry."

Nothing else. Two words that could mean everything, or nothing at all. Yoshiki swallowed hard, rereading the tiny letters, hoping to find something hidden, a trace of affection, a real apology that could heal the open wound. But it was an empty "I’m sorry," detached, as if thrown out of obligation.

The screen vibrated again. This time, another sender: Noharu.

Yoshiki opened the chat without thinking, and the first thing he saw was a photo of a plush cat, slightly blurry, with big sad eyes. Below, a simple, direct caption, like a hand reaching out in the dark:

Noharu: "You’re not disgusting, Yoshiki."

For a moment, Yoshiki’s lips curved into a trembling smile. A fragile, but genuine smile. The cat seemed to look at him with compassion, a tenderness absurd enough to pierce even the deepest misery. He felt the weight on his chest lighten slightly, as if Noharu had sensed the void devouring him.

Yet contradiction consumed him. He knew Noharu was trying to hold him, offering more sincerity than Hikaru would ever dare show. But the wound inside still bore Hikaru’s name, seared like fire. And it was him, only him, he wanted to cling to, even if it continued destroying him.

He took a deep breath, gripping the phone. He returned to Hikaru’s conversation and, after several seconds staring at the screen, fingers hesitating over the keyboard, he typed a brief, almost desperate response:

Yoshiki: "Don’t leave me."

Then he let the phone fall onto his chest, eyes closed, feeling those three words were all that remained of him.

The phone remained cold against his tear-soaked skin. Yoshiki had barely had the strength to type those three words: "Don’t leave me." He thought it would be hours, maybe days, before a reply. He imagined staring at the screen in silence, watching the blue check mark stab him like a knife.

But no. Just seconds later, the screen lit up again. Yoshiki’s heart leapt.

Hikaru: "I can’t promise that."

The air caught in his throat. He didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or throw the phone against the wall. His eyes read and reread the five words like a verdict written just for him. It was as if Hikaru had opened a small crack, only to slam the door in his face.

Yoshiki buried his face in the pillow, trembling. The fleeting smile Noharu had pulled from him vanished, replaced by an even fiercer emptiness.

He wanted to reply, but his fingers wouldn’t move. He thought of typing a "why?", an "I love you," or nothing at all. Finally, he wrote:

Yoshiki: "At least tell me things will stay normal between us…"

The phone vibrated again. Another message from Hikaru. Yoshiki opened it with fear, as if the screen contained the final sentence.

Hikaru: "I’m sorry… really."

Just as brief, just as insufficient. But Yoshiki stayed there, motionless, eyes burning, clinging to that apology like a castaway to a rotten plank in the middle of the sea.

. . .

Since that night, things between Yoshiki and Hikaru had grown colder than ever. There was an invisible wall between them now. Hikaru kept appearing at school, at the dojo, always with Satou-san, laughing, smiling, acting as if nothing had happened, while Yoshiki stayed at a distance, afraid that even the smallest gesture could ruin everything. Every glance reminded him of that scornful expression, and the memory made him shrink inside, convinced that any move would taint it all.

Noharu wasn’t the same either. The tension had consumed him to the point where he even kept distance from Yoshiki. After all, he had just confronted his own brother, been hit, and heard words that still burned inside him. “Being close to them is breaking me,” he often thought. So he chose silence, stepping back, letting the dust settle.

The night was quiet at the Indou house. The clock in the dining room ticked slowly, and only the wind slipping through the poorly closed window stirred the curtains.

Hikaru and Noharu sat on the sofa, side by side. Neither spoke. The TV had been off for a while, but neither had the will to turn it on.

Noharu tilted his head, glancing at his brother. He knew him too well: the restless fingers, clenching and releasing the edge of his shirt; the tense jaw, lips opening slightly as if wanting to speak, then retracting. That discomfort was a silent scream.

"What’s going on?" Noharu finally asked, his voice low but firm.

Hikaru blinked, surprised, then looked down.
“…I feel awful.”

“Why?”

There was a long silence. Hikaru rubbed his hands nervously, like he wanted to peel something off his skin.

“For Yoshiki,” he murmured, the name breaking from his throat. “We’ve never been this distant before. Never.”

Noharu raised an eyebrow, staring at him.
“And why are you telling me? I’m not the one you owe that to.”

Hikaru swallowed hard.
“I know… but I can’t face him.” His fists clenched, voice trembling. “Every time I think about him, I see his eyes… and I feel like I destroyed him.”

Noharu leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed.
“And you did.”

The words landed like a punch. Hikaru looked at him, incredulous, hurt.
“Do you really think I’m a monster?”

Noharu clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
“I didn’t say that. I said you broke him. And you know it.”

Hikaru buried his face in his hands, breathing becoming ragged.
“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want him to be like that. But the words slipped… and now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Noharu watched him quietly, though there was hardness in his eyes.
“Then stop talking to me like I’m a confessional,” he said, leaning toward him slightly. “If it really matters that much to you, if you really care about Yoshiki, then go tell him yourself.”

Hikaru slowly lifted his head. His face was red, eyes glistening.
“And if he rejects me? If he never forgives me?”

“He already did, Hikaru,” Noharu said without hesitation. “He rejected you the day you called him disgusting. The damage is done.”

He paused, softening his tone.
“But if you don’t have the courage to face it now, don’t make me carry your guilt.”

Silence fell, heavier than before. Hikaru’s hands trembled over his knees. Noharu watched quietly, a mix of sternness and fatigue in his gaze.

For the first time in a long time, Hikaru felt he had nowhere to run.

He lowered his eyes to the plush on the table. It was the one Yoshiki had won for Noharu at the festival, a small token of a happier moment.

He picked it up carefully, recognizing it immediately.

“This…,” he said softly, “Yoshiki gave this to you, right?”

Noharu looked up, surprised he mentioned it. He nodded slowly, a touch of melancholy in his expression.

“Yep. I keep it because…” His voice broke for a moment. “It’s the only thing that reminds me that there was still something beautiful between the three of us,” he said with a faint smile.

Hikaru frowned, uncomfortable, holding the plush awkwardly.
“Then why don’t you talk to him? Why do you avoid Yoshiki?”

Noharu turned his gaze, pressing his lips together. After an endless silence, he let out a dry laugh.
“You want the truth? Because you two are consuming me.”

The tension thickened.

“Consuming you…?” Hikaru repeated, incredulous.

Noharu nodded, gripping the plush tightly, digging his nails into the fabric as if to hold onto something.
“Yes. It’s like their souls shine too brightly. When they’re together, or even when I watch them, everything becomes so… intense. And I… I get lost. I can hardly see my own.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the toy.
“Sometimes I feel like I exist only as a shadow. That I’m here to hold them up, but never to shine myself.”

Hikaru watched in silence, heart tightening. He hadn’t expected this from his brother. Noharu, always the stable one, now laying bare this fracture.
“Noharu…” he murmured, voice broken. “I don’t know how to go on… everything I do hurts Yoshiki. Everything I feel… terrifies me.”

Noharu met his gaze, lips pressed together. His older brother, always seeming strong, was reduced to a scared child. Pain shot through him.

He took a breath, trying to sound firm though the words felt like stones in his throat.
“Hikaru…” he said slowly. “If you really want that pain to ease… you know what you have to do.”

Hikaru looked up, confused, as if hoping to hear something else.
“What… what do you mean?”

Noharu held back a sigh, because saying it meant giving up even more.
“Stop running. Face Yoshiki, even if your hands shake. Look at him the way you’ve always wanted to, without hiding under that mask of disgust.”

The silence was filled with Hikaru’s ragged breaths. Noharu looked away. If he met his eyes, he would break.

In his mind, a cruel thought hammered: "Yoshiki’s first will always be yours, Hikaru. Not mine. Even if I wanted him, even if this desire kills me… you’ll always be first."

He swallowed, swallowed the pain, and smiled with a trace of broken tenderness.
“Stop punishing him. He… just wants to be by your side.”

Hikaru closed his eyes, as if those words pierced him.

Noharu, in silence, pressed his hands against his knees to stop trembling: “If my place isn’t by his side, at least let it be yours. If I’ll never be Yoshiki’s choice… if I’ll always be the shadow between you two… then I’ll settle for seeing them smile, even if that smile slowly erases me.”

Tears threatened to escape, but he clenched his teeth to hold them back. He couldn’t show weakness, not to his brother. His mission wasn’t to shout his feelings, but to push him toward where he needed to be.

“Do it, Hikaru,” he finally said, voice soft, warm, a comfort he had none for himself. “Do it, because if you don’t, that fear will never let go. And neither you… nor Yoshiki… deserve to live trapped in it.”

Hikaru looked at him, tears burning in his eyes, as if for the first time believing he could try.

In that gaze, Noharu felt something inside him break and turn to silence.
His pain remained hidden, intact, buried where no one would see.

But if that pain could push the two of them toward the light… then it was worth it.

Chapter Text

The city was shrouded in a biting cold. Scarves were wrapped tightly around necks, breath formed mist in the air, and steaming cups of coffee offered a momentary warmth against the approaching winter. Everything smelled like closure, like the end of the year, like farewell.

A couple of days after that conversation with his brother, Hikaru walked with his fists clenched in his pockets. He had rehearsed words that dissolved as soon as they were born, phrases that melted the moment he tried to form them.
Memories accompanied him: Yoshiki running beside him in childhood, sand sticking to their ankles during that beach getaway, laughter that in his memory sounded pure, untangled.

But there was also Satou-san. She was calm. With her, Hikaru didn’t have to fight the sensation of sinking into an abyss every time she looked him in the eyes. Satou-san was easy to explain, Yoshiki was not. Satou-san was the answer his surroundings expected, Yoshiki was the wound that made him tremble. And yet, he had always known: Yoshiki burned him from the inside. Yoshiki was that secret he couldn’t rid himself of, even if he tried.

“Winter is just beginning… soon we’ll graduate. And he will leave this town.”
That thought was the final blow. Soon they would graduate. Hikaru remembered all the times he jokingly told Yoshiki to find a pretty girlfriend in Tokyo, that he shouldn’t come back empty-handed. Yoshiki always responded with a fake growl, shaking his hair, and then they would laugh until their stomachs hurt.

He also remembered when he teasingly said:
“Surely you’re going to be quite the ladies’ man in the city, huh?”
And Yoshiki, blushing, would throw an eraser or pen at him, shouting:
“Don’t say nonsense!!”

Back then, they were just jokes. It was easy to say, easy to hide behind laughter. But now, those same words felt like knives. Because the possibility that Yoshiki could really fall in love with someone in Tokyo tore him apart. And worst of all, deep down, Hikaru had always known the truth: Yoshiki had loved him first, had always loved him. And Hikaru, in his clumsy way, had loved him too.

The memory of those innocent scenes made the present coldness even more unbearable. They pushed him, forced him. He couldn’t leave it like this. He had to speak to him.

The school was almost deserted. The echo of water running into buckets, wet rags dragging across the floors, some isolated murmur behind the walls. Cleaning hour was a mechanical duty for many, but for Hikaru, it became an opportunity.

When he opened the classroom door, he found him.
Yoshiki was turned away, eraser in hand, moving against the board with a weariness-laden slowness. The white dust fell like snow on his fingers. There was something in his posture —slightly hunched back, tense arm— that spoke louder than any word: he was exhausted. Not physically, but in that secret place where sadness nests.

Hikaru hesitated. The air in the classroom felt thick, as if refusing to let him move forward. He swallowed and barely let out a murmur weaker than intended:

“Yoshiki…”

The eraser stopped abruptly. Yoshiki turned slowly, with the caution of someone who already suspects that nothing good will come of what’s about to happen. When their eyes met, the spark from before didn’t appear. His eyes were dim, as if the distance between them had turned into a permanent shadow.

“Hey…” he finally replied. A brief, dry word, crumbling in the air like ashes.

Hikaru felt an immediate void. It wasn’t anger he saw in Yoshiki, it was worse: it was that indifference born from a pain too deep. The kind of cold that arises when there’s nothing left to demand.

“It’s cold today…” Hikaru tried, searching for a clumsy, almost childish opening.

Yoshiki didn’t respond immediately. He lowered his gaze to the board and continued erasing, moving harshly as if he wanted to wipe away the unspoken words they had once written there. The dry squeak of the eraser against the chalkboard was the only reply.

Hikaru stepped closer, then another step. He felt like he was walking toward an invisible wall. He stopped half a meter away, close enough to perceive the faint scent of detergent on Yoshiki’s shirt, close enough to remember how much he wanted to get nearer and how terrified he was at the same time.

The silence stretched between them. Hikaru opened his mouth, then closed it. He wanted to say “I’m sorry,” but pride, guilt, and shame mixed, making him swallow the words like thorns.

Finally, Yoshiki spoke, without looking at him:

“What do you want, Hikaru?”

There was no harshness in his tone, nor affection. Only weariness. That neutrality hurt more than a scream.

Hikaru looked at him, feeling his throat tighten. It was now or never.

Hikaru didn’t respond immediately. His lips parted, but all that came out was a choked breath that mingled with the mist of his own exhalation. He took another step closer, almost imperceptible, until he was near enough to hear the brushing of Yoshiki’s uniform as he moved.

The silence grew, heavy, almost unbearable.

Hikaru lowered his gaze to Yoshiki’s hands: knuckles tense, fingers stained with white dust, the rag gripped too tightly as if his life depended on it. His arm moved mechanically, erasing invisible lines, as if he needed a pretext not to turn fully toward him.

Hikaru’s heart pounded so hard he felt the sounds of the classroom vanish. Only that repetitive movement and the cold space between them remained.

Without thinking, Hikaru raised a hand as if to touch Yoshiki’s shoulder. It hovered halfway, trembling, unable to advance or retreat. He knew a simple touch could be a bridge… or the final blow that would shatter everything.

Yoshiki, without lifting his gaze, murmured almost in a sigh:

“…Don’t come closer.”

It wasn’t a shout, nor a plea. It was a boundary, stated with the calm of someone wearing down.

Hikaru’s hand fell to his side like lead. He swallowed, unable to respond. He bit his lower lip, suppressing words fighting to come out. The silence returned, dense as if the walls themselves were pressing down.

Hikaru took a step back, but froze. Their eyes met again, and for a moment time seemed to stop: in those dim eyes, Hikaru saw the wound he himself had caused, still burning deep inside.

He wanted to speak. He couldn’t. He wanted to touch him. He didn’t dare.
The entire classroom had become a force field keeping them tied at the same distance, unable to cross or retreat entirely.

The eraser in Yoshiki’s hand fell to the floor with a dry thud that seemed louder than it should. Hikaru felt he could no longer stay silent.

The eraser rolled a few centimeters before stopping, leaving a white smudge on the floor. Yoshiki didn’t pick it up. He remained still, staring into nowhere, as if waiting for Hikaru to say something, anything.

Hikaru swallowed. His hands trembled in his pockets, and by reflex, he glanced toward the door, then the windows, checking that no one could see him so close. The mere thought pierced him like a knife: what if someone enters? What if they discover him? Shame engulfed him even before opening his mouth.

His lips moved in a failed attempt to form words.

“I…,” he started, but his voice came out harsh, broken. He cleared his throat, not daring to look directly at him. “Yoshiki, I…”

He stopped again. In his head echoed venomous phrases he had heard all his life: disgusting, filthy, unnatural. The voices of adults and classmates, filtered through his own conscience, were suffocating his chest.

He clenched his fists, bit his lip.

“I don’t know how…,” he muttered, looking at the floor, “I don’t know how to say it without it sounding wrong…”

His eyes darted from the door to the board, from the board to the floor, as if looking for an escape route, as if checking that no one was watching gave him permission to speak.

Finally, he raised his gaze just a bit, meeting Yoshiki’s eyes. He felt his defenses crumble.

“I… I know this is wrong…” he stammered, voice full of fear, eyes shifting nervously. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t feel anything for you.”

The words trembled from his lips like the hands that spoke them.

“Sometimes I think… if I try hard enough… if I’m with someone like Satou-san, all this will go away…” His voice cracked, and he said it almost under his breath. “But it doesn’t. It never goes away.”

He swallowed hard, as if swallowing poison.

“It’s like there’s something inside me… something dirty,” he paused, feeling the sting in his eyes, yet he didn’t cry. “Something that doesn’t leave, that follows me every time I look at you.”

He brought a hand to his hair, pressing it desperately.

“And I hate it, Yoshiki… I hate it so much. Because you… you’re my best friend.” His voice softened, trembling in a different way. “You’re the person I love the most in the world, and yet… I…”

The silence swallowed him again. His lips remained parted, no words escaping. Only the labored breaths mixing with the cold air between them.

Hikaru lifted his gaze again, eyes shining with fear and truth.

“I don’t want you to leave without knowing.”

The echo of his own voice hit him violently, as if revealing an impossible secret. His chest heaved, every muscle begged him to flee, but he forced himself to stay in front of him.

The eraser had fallen, the dust still lingering in the air. Yoshiki remained motionless, frozen by Hikaru’s words. There was no immediate reaction, only the icy silence that wrapped around them like a wall. Instinctively, he brought a hand to his head, pressing his fingers against his scalp as if that could anchor him to reality.

A sudden warmth rose to his cheeks, coloring them deeply, and a light dizziness overtook him. His breathing became uneven, shallow, and for a moment, he lost track of time; the outside world ceased to exist, and all he could sense was the closeness of Hikaru and the confession that still echoed in his ears.

Hikaru trembled, remaining close to Yoshiki. Then, recalling how Yoshiki always smiled when Noharu hugged his arm, he acted almost instinctively: he leaned slowly, taking Yoshiki’s left arm and wrapping both of his own around it, pressing his cheek lightly against Yoshiki’s shoulder. It was a minimal contact, delicate, yet full of intention and nervousness—a clumsy attempt to replicate the closeness he had seen work with his brother.

Yoshiki was still in shock. Everything he had believed about Hikaru wavered in an instant: he had always seen him as an impossible love, someone who rejected him coldly without realizing it, someone who found him repulsive. And now, against all odds, he was flushed, vulnerable, showing affection in the same way he had always wanted. His mind filled with questions that had no answers:

“Why is he going out with Satou-san if he always wanted me this way? Why did he act like nothing mattered?”

He observed Hikaru’s white hair resting on his shoulder, his blushing gaze flicking nervously toward the door, paranoid someone might see them. Everything was fragile, perfect, and terribly real.

In the midst of the flood of emotions, Yoshiki thought of Noharu. How he would curl up like a little kitten when making that gesture, how nothing and no one seemed to matter when Yoshiki was with him. The comparison was unavoidable, painful, and confusing. Now he felt the same as Noharu: a heart caught between tenderness and desire, between guilt and fear.

His mind traveled to that afternoon when Noharu had said:

“I’m crazy for you.”

The memory hit him hard, and his heart flipped violently. He didn’t know if it beat for the confusion, for the affection he felt toward Hikaru, or for the memory of Noharu. Everything mixed into a whirlwind that left him breathless, unable to think clearly.

Yoshiki remained still, yet inside him, a sea of emotions churned: a storm that threatened to dismantle the barrier he had built for so long. Every second next to Hikaru reminded him of what he had been denying, what he had never allowed himself to truly feel… until now.

Hikaru stayed one more second, his heart pounding in his chest. His cheek brushed Yoshiki’s shoulder, his hands trembling slightly against his own body. Their proximity burned him, each shared breath making him feel vulnerable and exposed.

Finally, he spoke in a barely audible voice, filled with guilt and jealousy:

“Yoshiki… I’m sorry… for everything…” he whispered. I was… jealous… of Noharu...”

His words got caught between his lips, each syllable a tremendous effort. His eyes, red and shining, never left Yoshiki’s for more than a moment, as if making sure no one else could see them, as if his confession were a crime that could be discovered at any second.

“Every time he was near… with you… it felt like they were taking something from me…” his voice cracked at the edge of tears. “It hurt to see you two together… and I… I… wanted to be there…… with you.”

Hikaru leaned his head a little closer, gently resting his forehead against Yoshiki’s shoulder. His breath mingled with his, trembling, fast, almost convulsive—a reflection of his anxiety and the fire of jealousy that had consumed him for so long.

“I didn’t want you to think… that I found you disgusting… or that I hated you…” he murmured, swallowing hard. “I’ve always… always wanted you… like this… and seeing you with him… drove me crazy with jealousy.”

Every word released a mixture of fear, shame, and suppressed desire. Every physical gesture—the closeness, the brush of skin, the trembling—revealed a heart caught between guilt and the need to be seen, to be reciprocated.

The silence that followed was heavy, electric. Hikaru stayed there, vulnerable, trying to convey through each small movement that his jealousy was not an attack, but a desperate confession of how much he had always wanted to be with Yoshiki.

Hikaru lingered, forehead on Yoshiki’s shoulder, fingers trembling on his own shirt. The confession of his jealousy and repressed desire hung between them like a heavy fog. He could not endure the distance any longer.

Without fully thinking, without measuring consequences, he leaned slightly more. His lips brushed Yoshiki’s softly, timidly, almost like a sigh rather than a deliberate kiss. It was brief, fragile, as if touching his lips were the limit of what he dared steal at that moment.

Yoshiki froze, the world suspended around him. His heart flipped, as if something long contained had suddenly escaped all at once. His eyes widened, face burning in a deep blush creeping to his ears, a warm, painful sensation spreading through his chest.

The collision between surprise and the flood of emotions left him speechless. His mind struggled to process what had just happened: Hikaru’s gesture, the confessed jealousy, the physical closeness that made him tremble inside. For a moment, he thought it was a cruel joke, that Hikaru was playing with him, and the fear of being completely rejected paralyzed him.

But then, as his eyes traveled over Hikaru’s head resting so close, the white strands falling on his shoulder, vulnerability and remorse in his expression, Yoshiki began to grasp the depth of what had been hidden for so long. Every little movement of Hikaru—the labored breath, the trembling hands, the pressure of his cheek—screamed the truth that words had barely expressed.

Yoshiki inhaled deeply, still immobile, feeling how every heartbeat mixed with Hikaru’s. His body responded to the closeness with painful confusion, mixing shame, desire, and an unexpected relief. Finally, without moving away or breaking contact, he let out a soft, barely audible sigh, as if exhaling could help him assimilate everything he had just felt.

The kiss had been brief, yet left an endless echo. Between surprise and the warmth rising along his neck, Yoshiki realized Hikaru had not meant to hurt him: he had sought him, with fear, with jealousy, with the urgency that someone finally knew the truth of his feelings.

The classroom remained silent, the echo of the eraser and the cleaning rags forgotten in the distance. Yoshiki’s eyes met Hikaru’s, wet and trembling, and for the first time in weeks, he felt the full weight of winter, silence, and fear begin to melt in the closeness of that gesture.

Yoshiki remained still, eyes fixed on Hikaru, but his mind was trapped in an uncontrollable whirlwind. Every gesture, every strand of white hair brushing his shoulder, made him tremble. He wanted to step back, breathe, clear his thoughts… but it was useless.

Because while he was there, so close to Hikaru, he couldn’t stop remembering. He remembered Noharu curling up against his arm in countless afternoons: the softness of his eyes, the warmth of his shoulder resting on his, the way he closed his eyes and let himself be held, his longer hair tickling his face. Now, the brush of Hikaru’s hair on his shoulder evoked the same sensation, but with a more confused, sharper, more intense heat. Every sigh, every movement, was the same… and yet completely different.

His heart flipped at the comparison, Noharu was tender, secure, confident; Hikaru was clumsy, nervous, full of fear and repressed electricity. And he, trapped between the two, didn’t know where to place his heart.

"So… you always… always wanted me like this…" Yoshiki whispered, unable to look away, his voice broken and trembling. Disbelief mixed with the burning heat inside him.

Hikaru nodded slightly, swallowing, his lips parted and his eyes glistening with moisture. Every second felt like an eternity; the jealousy he had kept, the repressed desire, the fear of being disgusting… it was all there, in front of Yoshiki.

And while the classroom remained empty, with the eraser paused on the floor, the forgotten rags, and the heavy air of emotions, Yoshiki realized something that made him tremble even more: while the memory of Noharu brought him calm and tenderness, Hikaru’s closeness awakened him, made him doubt, made him burn inside. It was as if his heart were being pulled in two directions: one soft and familiar, the other passionate and frightening.

Every brush of Hikaru, every clumsy attempt to get closer, was an imperfect copy of what he had felt with Noharu, and yet deeper, more painful, more urgent. Yoshiki could feel the difference in the way he breathed, in the tension of his muscles, in the trembling of the lips brushing against his shoulder. Noharu was safe and bright, Hikaru was insecure and electric. And he, caught between the two, didn’t know to whom he belonged.

The silence fell again, heavy and charged. It wasn’t cold or painful, but intense, piercing, full of emotional weight that crushed. Yoshiki and Hikaru were there, trembling, confused, scared… and for the first time, truly close, while comparisons and memories blended tenderness and desire into an irresistible storm.

. . .

Noharu leaned against the cold hallway wall, the bucket of water and soap beside him, forgotten. He tried to cover his mouth with his sleeve so no one could hear his sobs, but it was useless, each tear fell hot, each trembling breath escaped through his fingers.

From his hiding spot behind the classroom door, he watched everything. Every clumsy gesture of Hikaru, every insecure glance, every accidental, trembling brush against Yoshiki. Everything he had imagined in secret so many times was now there, happening before his eyes. The helplessness hit his chest like an invisible punch. It had been so easy to tell Hikaru to speak, to encourage him… and so impossible to actually see it happening.

“It’s… it’s so easy to say it, but so impossible to see…” he muttered under his breath, words choked by a new sob.

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. Every gesture, every brush between them, pierced him, burned his chest, froze his heart simultaneously. He tried to convince himself he was happy for them, but he couldn’t: jealousy and pain suffocated him, stabbing through every thought.

“Hikaru… he always took everything that should have been mine too. Every memory of my father, every glance from mom, every recognition from the villagers… even my own individuality. Everything. Everything was his, and I… I’ve always been the echo, the shadow that watches.”

He stepped away slightly from the door, his steps slow and silent on the wet floor. Seeing them so close, so vulnerable and sincere with each other, made him feel strange—a mixture of sadness, envy, and fraternal love he couldn’t organize.

He paused for a moment in the hallway corner, pressing his forehead against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that he was okay. “It’s fine… I’m happy for them… yes…” he repeated, though each word cut him like an invisible knife.

Every step he took to leave was a reminder of his place: always in the shadows, always watching from afar. His tears fell uncontrollably, and the cold of the hallway seemed to embrace him, mingling with the melancholy he carried inside.

Finally, he began to walk again, slowly, making sure no one saw him. Each step was measured, as if afraid to break the spell keeping him invisible, as if he could erase the evidence of his crying. The echo of his own thoughts accompanied him, the mixture of jealousy, pain, and unrequited love making him feel lonelier than ever.

And as he walked away, Noharu realized with painful clarity that although he had always wanted to be part of everything, there were moments that didn’t belong to him. All he could do was watch, suffer, and try to hold his own heart, while the two he loved most drew closer to each other, oblivious to his presence.

Chapter Text

After that day, even though Hikaru and Yoshiki had gone back to being friends as if nothing had happened, something still felt off between them. They laughed, shared trivial conversations, walked together in the hallways, but every accidental touch, every minimal contact, seemed to carry a different weight. Their blushing became more frequent, their gazes lingered a moment too long and then quickly shifted away, as if they were afraid of discovering something they still couldn’t understand. Friendship had returned, yes, but the air between them was tinged with a tension neither knew how to handle.

Even when he was next to Hikaru, Yoshiki couldn’t help but let his attention drift toward Noharu, who sometimes watched them from a distance. His eyes sought out his figure, analyzing every gesture, every smile, every movement.

With Hikaru everything was spark, his firm voice, his gestures full of energy, the way he laughed as if the whole world was following him. He was fire, burning, illuminating, forcing you to move, to breathe faster, to live with a racing pulse. But he also burned, hurt, leaving ashes behind. With Hikaru, Yoshiki felt alive, but also constantly on edge.

Noharu, on the other hand, was like an oil lamp lit in the dark. He didn’t blaze, but he shone steadily. His smile was a low, steady flame, his presence a warm refuge. With him there was no adrenaline, only a heat that wrapped around Yoshiki slowly, making him feel safe and, at the same time, vulnerable. Where Hikaru tried to hide from others’ gazes, Noharu seemed to matter only in how Yoshiki saw him, as if his eyes didn’t exist for anyone else.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation with Hikaru, memories hit him like a slap, the loud laughter at the beach, the cold water hitting their bodies, the electricity of that moment. And right after, the opposite image, the dark movie theater, the stillness around Noharu, and the certainty that those eyes had searched for him even in a sea of people.

Hikaru was lightning. Noharu was a lamp. The first shook him to the bones and left him exhausted. The second warmed him from within and filled him with a dangerous calm. And Yoshiki was trapped between both, split in two halves he couldn’t reconcile.

Every memory of Noharu, the way he blushed, the natural touch that never felt forbidden, the silent plea in his eyes, made him feel warm and, at the same time, more guilty for still enjoying Hikaru’s company. What right did he have to desire two brothers at the same time?

The most unsettling part was that even after discovering his feelings were not one-sided after so many years, Yoshiki didn’t feel as he had expected. He had imagined the fulfillment of a dream, a clear and simple relief. Instead, he was overwhelmed by an even denser confusion. Being reciprocated didn’t free him, it trapped him. It was no longer just about his own heart, but also the weight of Hikaru’s gaze that had chosen him, the devotion that demanded a response he didn’t know how to give.

He loved Hikaru, of course he did, but nothing had been the same since that summer when Noharu appeared in their lives.

. . .

The sports day had ended and most of the students had already left. Hikaru had left earlier because he had to attend his club activities, leaving Yoshiki with an empty, silent space that felt both strange and heavy. Yoshiki and Noharu, clumsy at sports and slow to change, were among the last to remain in the locker room. The echo of their footsteps resonated against the empty walls, and the cold winter air filtered through the windows, mixing with the smell of sweat and damp clothes.

Noharu gathered his clothes with careful movements, like a small kitten, his scarf half on and hands trembling. Every gesture made him look fragile and tender, and Yoshiki couldn’t take his eyes off him. The tension between them was palpable in the air.

"Yoshiki…" Noharu said in a trembling voice, giving him a pat on the back by the lockers. "How… how are things with Hikaru? He’s my brother, you know… I… I worry about him."

Yoshiki hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say, but finally responded with a soft sigh: "He’s… he’s fine. Everything’s fine now. I feel much better than before."

Everything’s fine.

Hearing those words, Noharu broke inside. His chest tightened, a dull, burning pain ran from head to toe, and a hot wetness spread across his cheeks. A faint blush crept over his face while his heart churned; the desperation and suppressed longing had brought him to a breaking point. The idea that Yoshiki felt better with Hikaru, that Hikaru was there to accompany him and make him feel safe, hurt him, excited him, and drove him desperate all at once.

In a sudden impulse, as if he needed to reclaim everything he had felt lost, Noharu turned to Yoshiki and grabbed his face forcefully. His hands squeezed, his body pressed him against the lockers. Every touch and pressure was a release of all he had repressed—frustration, jealousy, anguish, and desire mixed in an irrepressible surge.

"I… I can’t… I don’t want you to…" Noharu whispered in broken breaths, holding him against the lockers, his eyes shining with vulnerability and contained rage. "I can’t stand that you’re… close to him and I can’t…"

Yoshiki, feeling cornered and with his heart racing, tried to push him away gently, feeling confused and scared. But Noharu, lost in his inner storm, didn’t give in and continued to pin him against the lockers. Every second of resistance only intensified his desire, culminating in a single act where he launched himself at Yoshiki with everything he had suppressed for weeks.

"Noharu… really, I—"

Noharu didn’t give him a chance to react. He cupped Yoshiki’s face, his firm hands pressing him against the lockers. With a wild impulse, he leaned in and kissed him. It was a rough, intense kiss, full of all the repressed desire, jealousy, and anguish accumulated over weeks. Noharu’s tongue intruded urgently, stealing air and control, while his lips bit hard, drawing a thin line of blood from Yoshiki’s lower lip.

Yoshiki gasped and tried to pull away, pushing with force, his hands pressed against Noharu’s chest to regain some space. His heart raced, torn between fear, surprise, and an attraction he couldn’t deny. Every second of the kiss made him feel alive and, at the same time, more guilty. The mix of pain and pleasure overwhelmed him, making him tremble inside.

"N-Noharu…!" he gasped, trying to push him away. "This… mmm!"

But Noharu didn’t relent. His hug was tight, almost desperate, and his kiss urgent. Every touch of their bodies against the lockers heightened the tension, and Yoshiki could feel the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. His hands trembled, his breathing was ragged, and though he wanted to resist, he couldn’t ignore the warmth and urgency emanating from Noharu.

As their lips met, Noharu let himself be carried by the impulse, but his mind was a whirlwind. Every second that passed, every touch, every press against the lockers made him feel hot and desperate. He repeated to himself over and over:

"This is wrong… I shouldn’t… but I can’t take it anymore."

The sound of Yoshiki’s breathing, the trembling of his hands, and the resistance he offered only fueled his own desire. Noharu felt he was crossing a line with no return, and that scared him.

"Will this ruin everything? Or will he feel the same as I do?"

The thought took his breath away, mixing fear with a nearly painful need to belong, to be seen, to be accepted. To win over his brother, even if just once. As their lips moved urgently, their teeth brushing with contained force, every action felt like a silent confession, a declaration he couldn’t put into words.

For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and feel, to listen to the wet sounds from him and Yoshiki, to lose himself in the sensation of contact, to taste Yoshiki’s saliva, ignoring everything else.

When Noharu finally ran out of air, he pulled back, a thin thread of saliva still connecting his lips to Yoshiki’s. His eyes searched Yoshiki’s, blurred by confusion and the intensity of the moment. Yoshiki’s lips were swollen and slightly bleeding, and Noharu felt a knot in his chest seeing his expression—surprise, confusion, and a hint of fear.

Guilt hit him immediately. His heart raced, not from desire, but from fear and regret. "This isn’t right… Yoshiki loves Hikaru, not me…" he thought in anguish. Every fiber of his body trembled as he realized what he had done, how he had let himself be carried by an impulse he had no right to feel.

Tears began to stream down his cheeks as his voice broke.

"I’m sorry, I really am… please don’t hate me…" he whispered with urgency and pain, looking at Yoshiki with eyes full of regret and fear.

Before Yoshiki could respond, Noharu ran out of the locker room.

Yoshiki was left alone, his lips burning and the echo of Noharu’s slammed door still ringing. His chest rose and fell violently. The thread of saliva still marked his mouth, and the blood left a bitter taste.

He tried to convince himself that he hated him, that he rejected him… but when he looked down, he understood the truth. He was hard, throbbing, his body betraying him in the worst way.

He covered his face with both hands, trembling, unable to decide whether what haunted him most was guilt… or desire.

. . .

The next day, Yoshiki arrived at school with the weight of Noharu’s kiss still pressing on his chest. Every step down the hall felt heavier than the last, as if the memory of that moment followed him everywhere. His fingers trembled slightly, recalling the pressure of Noharu’s hands on his face, the urgency of his kiss, the strand of saliva, and the blood on his lips. For a moment, he wished it had all been a dream… but the feeling remained alive, intense, and confusing.

"I shouldn’t… I can’t… but I want him to do it again," he thought, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that way; things with Hikaru were supposed to be “fine,” the routine had returned, the friendship had resumed its normal course, and now he was reciprocated. But his body and mind said otherwise.

Entering the classroom, Yoshiki saw Hikaru chatting casually with Asako and Maki, smiling as if nothing had happened, oblivious to the storm consuming him. He sat at his desk, unable to take his eyes off it. Every laugh from Hikaru was a reminder of how things should be: simple, safe, clear. But Yoshiki was trapped in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, feeling this way ever since Noharu had set foot in this damn town.

Waiting for Noharu, he crossed his arms and nervously fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. Every minute that passed without Noharu appearing made him more uneasy. "Did he oversleep again?" he thought, but behind that idea was something deeper he didn’t want to admit, a desire to see him, to let him know that the kiss had meant something to him too.

Hikaru looked at him, and after a few moments of silence, approached.
"Yoshiki… what’s wrong? You’ve got a looong face," his voice was soft, but there was a hint of concern.

"Nothing… I’m fine," Yoshiki lied, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"Are you sure?" Hikaru raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning slightly on his desk. "You look… different. Like… something is weighing on you."

Yoshiki swallowed, searching for words he couldn’t find. Every attempt to hide it failed.
"Just… didn’t sleep well last night," he finally said, lowering his gaze.

Hikaru sat beside him, his presence warm and familiar, like an anchor in the middle of his inner chaos.
"Hm… you’re sure that’s all?" he asked gently, resting an elbow on the desk and holding his chin with his hand.

Yoshiki murmured, unable to meet Hikaru’s eyes.
"…D-Don’t worry."

"Mmm," Hikaru huffed, giving in.

The first class passed with notes Yoshiki could barely read and thoughts dragging him from one memory to another. He closed his eyes, and the only thing he could see was Noharu’s expression when he pulled away from his lips.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the first class, Yoshiki packed his things slowly, his heart racing. The mix of guilt, desire, and confusion made him feel trapped and suffocated. Without a word, he stood and left, leaving Hikaru staring after his back.

Seeing him go, Hikaru felt the urge to follow him, to say something, to touch him, but something inside stopped him. An unfamiliar weight pressed on his chest; a bad premonition ran through him, a feeling that something was about to break, yet the thought of intervening made him feel clumsy and powerless. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the knot in his throat as he watched Yoshiki disappear down the hall.

"I can’t do anything, I don’t even know what’s wrong with him," he thought, resigned to his friend leaving without explanation.

Then Satou-san appeared behind him, with her confident smile and direct gaze that always managed to unsettle him a little.

"Hey, Hikaru… you’ve been ignoring me lately, huh?" she said, tilting her head and crossing her arms, her accusation barely hidden. "I think we should go out today, just you and me."

Hikaru swallowed, his face burning as he stammered nervously.
"E-eh… n-no… I… well… no…"

Satou-san stepped a little closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with that mix of mischief and firmness that left him speechless.
"Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to spend some time with me."

After a moment of hesitation, blushing and resigned, Hikaru sighed and said.
"Fine… we’ll go… just us."

The announcement hung in the air as Satou-san smiled satisfied. The classroom was empty of Yoshiki, and the tension grew. His absence felt like a void nothing could fill, making it clear that the day had only just begun and that many emotions were still waiting to erupt.

. . .

The walk to the Indou house felt longer than usual. Yoshiki recalled every time Noharu had made him feel good about himself—the day after class when, without saying a word, he looked at him as if he were enough; the festival when his shoulder rested on his own and didn’t move, as if he belonged there; the small gestures, the awkward smiles, the blush on his cheeks. Tiny things, but they had marked him more than they should have.

Amid all that jumble, Yoshiki realized something that hit him hard. Noharu had never made him feel disgusting. He had never been a burden, never had to disguise himself to be liked. With him, there was no shame, no dirty feeling chasing him like it did with other thoughts. Noharu looked at him as if there was nothing to hide.

Yoshiki clenched his fists, a knot forming in his chest. He didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want to be the reason Noharu felt bad. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he wanted him, that his heart beat differently whenever he was near. Hikaru had chosen him, yes, and that should have been enough. Yet, even though Hikaru had given him the certainty of being reciprocated, he had never given him that calm that only Noharu seemed to awaken in him.

Standing in front of the house, he froze, taking a deep breath. The cold air burned his lungs, and yet all he felt was the warmth of those memories.

“What am I going to do with you, Noharu…? And with myself?”

. . .

When he arrived at the Indou house, Yoshiki didn’t pause for a second in the hallway. He knew exactly where to go, knew Noharu’s door by heart, the faint mark on the frame, the creak of the wood when pushed.

Opening it, the first thing that hit him was chaos. Noharu’s room was even messier than Hikaru’s, as if time had stopped in the middle of a whirlwind of emotions. Clothes balled on the floor, books open to random pages, a couple of forgotten mugs on the desk.

But amid all that disorder, Yoshiki noticed traces of himself. The beach souvenirs, clumsily lined up on a shelf; the plush toy he had once given him, thrown in the corner of his futon but still kept; the figures he had won for him at the cinema, like clumsy, dusty guardians on the desk. Every object was a silent reminder of how Noharu had kept each thing of his as if it were a treasure.

His gaze finally settled on the futon. Noharu was there, sunk into the sheets, sitting but hidden, knees pulled to his chest and completely covered. His whole body seemed to tremble, as if he wanted to melt into the floor and disappear from the world.

Yoshiki stepped inside, swallowing hard. The air was thick, filled with the warmth of someone who had cried too much.

“Noharu…” his voice came out low, almost broken.

The boy shrank further under the sheets, refusing to come out, as if the very idea of facing him was unbearable.

Yoshiki moved slowly, kneeling in front of the futon. His eyes fell again on that plush, the figures, everything that spoke for Noharu better than his closed lips ever could. And he realized, with a knot in his chest, that behind that apparent silence, it had always been him, it had always been him.

He reached a hand toward the sheets, not touching them yet, as if afraid that by doing so, Noharu would vanish.

“Please… look at me.”

“Noharu…” Yoshiki murmured.

Immediately, the younger curled up more under the sheets, his voice choked and desperate, escaping in sobs.

“Go!… go, please… I’m not Hikaru! I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear you!” His cry was so raw it sounded childlike, as if he had regressed to a fragility he never showed.

“I… I’m not like him… I’ll never be like him!” He pressed the sheets tighter against his face, trembling. “You only want him… Hikaru! It’s always been him, not me…”

The words choked out between sobs, a muffled scream beneath the fabric.

Yoshiki felt a knot in his throat, his heart tightening at the sight of him like that. He stepped forward, his own voice breaking as well.

“Don’t say that… I didn’t come here to compare you, or to look for Hikaru. I came because I care about you. Because I’m worried about you.”

Yoshiki stepped a little closer, until he could see Noharu’s face through the sheets. Noharu’s cheeks were red, swollen from crying, fresh tears still running, mixing with the wet shine in his eyes. His nose was red, his snot stuck at the edges, and his hair was messy, rebellious from tossing and turning under the sheets. Still, Yoshiki couldn’t look away; he had never seen him so fragile, so exposed, so human.

“Look at you…” he whispered without realizing, his voice low, almost trembling. “You shouldn’t be crying like this… not for me.”

Noharu glanced at him for barely a second before covering his face with his hands again. Between sobs, he muttered with a broken voice:

“You should go find Hikaru… he’s the one who makes you laugh, who fills you… not me. I’m just a shadow.”

Yoshiki’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned in a little, trying to find his hidden gaze again.

“Do you really think that?” he said softly, each word weighted. “Do you think if I came here, if I came into your room… it would be because I don’t care?”

Noharu pressed the sheets tighter to his face, shaking his head, tears falling again.

Yoshiki watched him in silence, feeling how the words got stuck in his throat. Part of him wanted to shout that he was wrong, that Hikaru wasn’t everything, that there was something in him, in Noharu, that haunted him even when it shouldn’t. But another part feared opening his mouth and ruining everything.

The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by Noharu’s muffled sobs under the fabric.

Yoshiki stayed still, waiting, until gradually the sobs subsided. The trembling in Noharu’s shoulders eased, his breaths became longer and awkward, as if he were emptying himself of everything that had been choking him.

Finally, Noharu’s voice emerged, hoarse, shaky, almost a whisper.

“I… I’m sorry…” he pressed his knees against his chest, still not fully uncovered. “What happened yesterday… I… I didn’t mean to force you like that. I didn’t want… to make you feel dirty that way. It was… disgusting of me.”

His voice broke, and a thread of tears wet the fabric again.

“I understand if you hate me… if you don’t want to look at me anymore. In the end, I always knew it wasn’t me you wanted. That it would never be me… it’s always been my brother, it’s always been you and him, right?” His fingers gripped the sheet tightly, holding onto that painful certainty. “You love him.”

Noharu stayed still, the room heavy with silence, waiting for rejection, a slammed door, anything to free him from the unbearable weight of guilt.

Yoshiki yanked the blanket down decisively. Noharu’s face appeared, flushed, fresh tears still running down his cheeks, his nose congested, his lips trembling.

“Look at me,” Yoshiki said, with an unexpected firmness in his voice. “I don’t hate you, Noharu.”

Noharu looked at him for a brief moment, then averted his gaze in shame, biting his lip.

“Of course you do…” he replied, with a choked sob. “How could you not after yesterday? I forced you, I made you feel disgusting… I’m not like Hikaru, I’m not what you want.”

Yoshiki leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on him.

“Don’t say that…” he whispered, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yesterday… wasn’t horrible. It was… nice.”

Noharu looked at him in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head violently, pressing the sheets against his chest.

“No! No, Yoshiki, you’re confused. I’m not Hikaru, understand? He’s the one who’s always been with you, the one you really like. I’m just… just my brother’s shadow. You can’t confuse me with him, you can’t…”

Yoshiki slowly reached his hand toward his face, but Noharu recoiled in fear, almost curling against the headboard.

“Don’t…” he whispered, trembling, turning his gaze away. “Don’t touch me like that. If you do, I’ll end up believing you mean it.”

The silence stretched. Yoshiki, hand suspended in the air, swallowed hard, unable to look away from Noharu’s tear-streaked face. His own heart was pounding so hard he felt it might betray him.

“I’m not confusing you with him…” he murmured, barely audible. “I’m seeing you.”

Yoshiki cupped Noharu’s face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over cheeks still wet with tears. He looked him straight in the eyes, trying to convey firmness and tenderness at the same time.

“Noharu… you’re not Hikaru. You never have been, and I don’t want you to be,” he said, voice low, barely trembling. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”

Noharu shrank a little, clutching the blanket tightly, voice breaking.

“But… you only want Hikaru…” he whispered through sobs. “Only he makes you smile like that… I… I can’t.”

“No,” Yoshiki replied, leaning in slightly closer. “You’re different. All those things that make you… you… are the things I care about.”

He paused for a moment, observing his face, then began to list, his voice a thread filled with tenderness:

“Hikaru can eat watermelon until his whole mouth is red and sticky… you prefer ice cream, always trying different flavors, enjoying every bite. Hikaru ignores cats, but you, when you walk down the street and see a cat, you stop, pet it, talk to it as if it were your little friend—that’s you.”

Yoshiki lowered his voice even more, gently stroking his cheek.

“I like your long hair… how it falls over your face, how it moves when you fidget. I like your smile, Noharu… that shy, light smile that appears even when you don’t want to show it. It makes me feel like I can trust you, that everything is a little easier when you’re around.”

Noharu blinked, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or pull away. His chest rose and fell quickly, trembling with both emotion and fear. Yoshiki continued, taking a deep breath.

“I like how you focus when watching a movie, how you lose yourself in each scene without saying a word, how the books you carry everywhere feel like a part of you. And… I believe in you, Noharu. I believe you can see things I never could… souls. I think it’s interesting… and scary at the same time.”

Noharu closed his eyes, unable to keep looking at Yoshiki, feeling his fragile heart might explode. In a barely audible voice, he said:

“I… I’m not Hikaru… and I don’t want to be…”

“I know,” Yoshiki whispered, gently caressing his features. “And that’s why… that’s why I like you.”

He paused, swallowing hard, lowering his voice even more.

“Y… yesterday… it wasn’t bad. It was… nice. It made me feel good with you… even if it’s confusing to say.”

Noharu trembled, looking away, but he didn’t pull away completely. He could feel the sincerity and calm in Yoshiki’s voice, though he still doubted if he could allow himself to accept those words.

Yoshiki lowered his gaze slightly, his hands still holding Noharu’s face. For a moment, the silence made him hesitate, his chest tightening with a memory impossible to ignore.

“Noharu…” he murmured, in a faint thread of a voice. “Don’t think… that I don’t care about Hikaru. He… he reciprocates, and I know he loves me… but…” he swallowed, searching for the right words. “No matter how much I try, there’s something in me that doesn’t fit with him. It’s not his fault… it’s just… I don’t think we’re meant for each other.”

Noharu blinked, confused, trembling slightly under Yoshiki’s hands.

“You don’t love him anymore?” he asked, his voice broken, barely audible.

“It’s not that…” Yoshiki replied gently. “I do love him, of course I do. But when I’m with him… I feel like… something’s missing. It’s not the same as with you. With Hikaru it’s sparks, adrenaline, fire…” he bit his lip, uncomfortable. “He makes me laugh, yes, but he also makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong… like I have to run without being able to stop.”

Yoshiki gently squeezed Noharu’s cheeks, searching for his gaze, and continued:

“With you… it’s different. With you there’s calm, there’s safety… a warmth that doesn’t burn or tire me, that doesn’t leave me exhausted. I can be myself. Without pretenses. Without fear of being in the way, without feeling I have to reciprocate something I can’t. With you I feel… complete, even if it’s confusing.”

The younger boy let his guard down just a little, the blanket slipping slightly from his shoulders, his wet eyes seeking Yoshiki’s.

“So…” Noharu whispered. “I’m not replacing Hikaru…”

“Never,” Yoshiki assured, lowering his voice to almost a murmur.

A thread of silence stretched between them, heavy but comforting, as Yoshiki continued holding his face, and Noharu, though fearful, began to understand that their differences weren’t obstacles—they were what connected them.

For a moment, they breathed opposite each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and contained emotions. Their eyes met, and Yoshiki felt the world shrink to that moment, to that space between them.

Without thinking further, he slowly tilted his face toward Noharu’s and pressed his lips against his. It wasn’t a shy or cautious kiss—it was urgent, intense, filled with everything he had repressed for days. Every touch, every brush of lips carried desire, frustration, tenderness, and the need to feel Noharu close.

Noharu gasped, trying to pull away for air, but Yoshiki didn’t give him space. His hands held him firmly, keeping him steady as if the world would shatter if he let go. Yoshiki’s tongue sought Noharu’s with determination, exploring, claiming, mixing passion with vulnerability. Each second of the kiss was a whirlwind—heat, moisture, the pressure of their nearly pressed bodies, their racing hearts echoing between them.

Noharu finally gave in a little, his trembling arms wrapping around Yoshiki hesitantly, caught between fear and attraction. Their lips moved in a desperate, almost painful rhythm, as if both wanted to say everything words could not contain.

When they finally pulled apart, they could barely breathe. Their foreheads touched, Noharu’s bright eyes reflecting surprise, confusion, and deep desire. Yoshiki, breathing heavily, whispered:

“Noharu… I… I want you… kissing you feels right.”

Noharu blinked several times, still flushed and wet, breathing shallowly. For a moment, he seemed lost, trapped between surprise, confusion, and a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

Then, slowly, a shy but genuine smile formed on his lips. Not forced, not nervous—but one that came from deep inside, the kind that appears when something makes him feel truly seen and understood.

“Yoshiki…” he whispered, voice trembling but full of emotion. “I… I…”

Unable to finish the sentence, he threw himself into Yoshiki, hugging him tightly. His arms wrapped around Yoshiki’s waist, chest pressed against his, head resting on his shoulder. His trembling body reflected all the happiness, relief, and affection he had held back for so long.

Yoshiki, surprised at first, returned the embrace tenderly, wrapping his arms around Noharu’s back, holding him firm but gently. He could feel the warmth of his body, their breathing mingling, and a strange relief washed over him knowing Noharu was finally accepting what he felt.

“I’m glad…” Yoshiki whispered, resting his cheek against his—“I’m glad you’re smiling like this.”

Noharu let out a small sigh, as if some of the tension accumulated over days melted in that hug. He closed his eyes and surrendered, feeling that at last, he could be himself without fear, without guilt, simply enjoying the warmth and closeness of someone who saw him and accepted him as he was.

The world outside disappeared completely, leaving only the shared heartbeat of their hearts and the feeling that, everything was a little more in place.

Noharu stayed clinging to Yoshiki, trembling slightly, his breathing uneven. Gradually, he began to move against him instinctively, pressing his torso to Yoshiki’s and rubbing lightly. Each small brush sent shivers through Yoshiki’s body, intensifying the urgency and tension that already simmered between them.

“N-Noharu…” Yoshiki whispered, voice broken, breath ragged. “You’re… too close…”

The boy arched his back, pressing his body more firmly against him, carefully brushing his chest and arms, seeking contact, seeking to feel secure, while also provoking an uncontrollable response that they both knew was inevitable. His hands trembled, and every movement was a game of desire and vulnerability, of impulse and shyness.

Yoshiki felt a shiver run through his entire body. Every touch from Noharu, every soft pressure, the fragrance that enveloped him, and the softness of his hair brushing against his neck... it all excited him intensely, mixing need with care, fear, and desire all at once.

"Ngh..." Yoshiki gasped, leaning his head towards Noharu's ear.

Noharu purred softly, almost unconsciously, rubbing against him once more, sliding his hips gently against Yoshiki, like a kitten seeking attention and affection. His hands began to explore Yoshiki's back with more confidence, but still shyly, seeking to maintain contact without separating.

Every touch, every pressure, every shared gasp increased the sexual tension in the room, making both of them pulse in unison, trapped between desire and the need to feel accepted and close.

Yoshiki lowered his gaze, observing Noharu's slightly parted lips, the intense blush on his cheeks, and the tremor in his hands as he reached out. He knew they were crossing a line, but he didn't want to pull away. He couldn't pull away.

Yoshiki couldn't hold back any longer. His face lowered towards Noharu's with determination, finding his lips in a second kiss, this time deeper and more urgent than the first. Their tongues entwined insistently, exploring, claiming, mixing desire and need that had been building for days.

Noharu arched his back involuntarily, rubbing against him like a kitten seeking more warmth, and before he knew it, he fell back onto his futon, pulling Yoshiki with him. The mattress creaked slightly under their combined weight, but neither of them moved apart. Their bodies remained pressed together, every inch of contact charged with electricity and sexual tension.

"Mmm..." Noharu gasped, his voice broken, lost between sighs. "Yoshiki..."

"Noharu..." Yoshiki whispered, resting his forehead against Noharu's. "I... can't stop... don't want to stop..."

His hands began to gently but determinedly explore Noharu's back and sides, feeling every tremor of the younger one beneath his touch. Both of their breaths were rapid and ragged, their bodies pressed together and moving slightly, as if each touch increased the urgency and desire.

Noharu moaned under Yoshiki's pressure, his head falling back, his hair splayed across the pillow, and his body burning with every contact. The intensity of the kiss, the closeness, and the shared heat created a whirlwind that was impossible to ignore: fear, excitement, vulnerability, and pleasure all mixed in a moment that seemed suspended in time.

"I... wish you..." Yoshiki murmured between kisses, his voice broken with emotion. "Only you..."

Noharu could only respond with a gasp, clinging to Yoshiki as if there was no other place in the world he wanted to be, letting each caress and kiss envelop him completely.

Yoshiki, his heart pounding, allowed himself to explore beyond Noharu's clothing. His trembling hands slid under the fabric, finding the soft, warm skin of the younger one. Noharu gasped softly, his body arching towards Yoshiki's touch, seeking more contact.

Yoshiki felt the outline of Noharu's erection through the fabric of his pants, a firm and tempting pressure. His eyes widened slightly, surprised and excited at the same time. With a mix of shyness and desire, Yoshiki whispered against Noharu's lips:

"can I... can I touch you?"

Noharu, with his eyes closed and his face flushed, nodded slightly, his voice barely a whisper: "Yes..."

Carefully, Yoshiki slid his hand inside Noharu's pants, feeling the warmth and firmness of his erection. As he pulled it out, both of them held their breath. Yoshiki looked at Noharu's member, observing every detail with amazement and desire. The skin was soft and pale, with a rosy hue at the tip, and the hair around it was a soft white, almost silver, contrasting with his fair skin. Yoshiki felt a wave of tenderness and excitement at the sight, thinking about how cute it was.

Without thinking further, Yoshiki knelt between Noharu's legs, his face level with his erection. With a mix of reverence and desire, Yoshiki licked a stripe along Noharu's cock, from base to tip, savoring every inch. Noharu gasped, surprised and excited, his body trembling with each touch of Yoshiki's tongue.

"Y-Yoshiki?!" Noharu exclaimed, but his words were drowned in a moan when Yoshiki took him all in his mouth, tasting him eagerly.

Yoshiki adored every moment, every sensation. His hands moved with confidence, caressing Noharu's legs, while his mouth worked with dedication. Noharu, with his eyes wide open and his chest rising and falling rapidly, took Yoshiki's hair, entwining his fingers in the dark strands as he gasped and moaned.

"Like that... please, don't stop," Noharu begged, his voice broken with pleasure.

Yoshiki, kneeling between Noharu's thighs, looked at him with adoration, his eyes full of desire. With each movement of his mouth, Yoshiki felt a deep connection, as if each touch, each taste, brought him closer to Noharu than he had ever been with anyone.

Noharu trembled, his body responding to each caress and lick from Yoshiki. His hips moved instinctively, seeking more depth, more pressure. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming, and Noharu lost himself in the sensations, in the tenderness and desire that Yoshiki showed him.

"Does it feel good?" Yoshiki murmured, pulling away briefly to speak, his voice hoarse and full of emotion.

Noharu nodded, unable to form coherent words, his breathing ragged and his eyes shining with desire. Yoshiki smiled, satisfied and excited, and returned to taking Noharu in his mouth, redoubling his efforts, bringing him closer and closer to ecstasy.

Yoshiki, despite his shyness, let himself be carried away by the desire and the connection he felt with Noharu. With each movement, he tried to overcome his own fear, focusing on Noharu's pleasure and the intensity of his own desire. His hands, though trembling, moved with growing confidence, exploring every inch of Noharu's skin.

He sank deeper onto Noharu's cock, his mouth working with fervent dedication. The taste and texture of Noharu intoxicated him, making each touch of his tongue send waves of pleasure through his own body. Yoshiki could feel the tension in Noharu's body, the way his muscles contracted and relaxed with each movement of his mouth.

Noharu, for his part, trembled with pleasure, his fingers entwined in Yoshiki's black hair, pulling with emergency. Each gasp and moan that escaped his lips was a testament to how deeply Yoshiki was taking him, to how intense the pleasure was that he was providing.

"Yoshiki... more... please..." Noharu begged, his voice broken and full of desire.

Yoshiki, hearing his pleas, redoubled his efforts, his mouth and tongue working in perfect sync. He could feel Noharu nearing his climax, his body tense and his moans more frequent and urgent. With a final and deep movement, Yoshiki brought Noharu to the edge, feeling how his body shuddered and released in his mouth.

Noharu came intensely, his body convulsing with each wave of pleasure. His fingers tightened painfully in Yoshiki's hair, almost painfully, as a choked cry escaped his lips. Ecstasy flooded him, leaving him breathless and trembling, completely vulnerable and exposed to Yoshiki.

Yoshiki, with a mix of satisfaction, pulled away slowly, savoring the residue of Noharu on his lips. He crawled up, cuddling next to Noharu, their bodies pressed together and their hearts beating in unison. With a gentle hand, Yoshiki began to stroke Noharu's hair, tousling it even more, as his eyes filled with deep emotion.

Noharu, still panting and with his body trembling, lifted a hand and began to softly rub the moles on Yoshiki's face, tracing each one.Their eyes, bright and moist, met, and in that moment, both felt a connection that went beyond the physical, a union of souls that made them feel complete.

Yoshiki's shyness, his dedication had taken him to a place of pleasure and satisfaction that he had never known. In Yoshiki's arms, Noharu found a sanctuary, a place where he could be himself without fear, without guilt, just enjoying the closeness and affection of someone who saw and accepted him as he was.

Yoshiki rested his forehead against Noharu's, feeling how the heat of their bodies pressed together dissolved years of fear and shame; with him, there were no judgments or guilt, no inner voice telling him it was wrong to desire another boy, no feeling of disgust for what he felt, only the attention of Noharu that made him feel secure, accepted, and free from the internalized homophobia he had carried for years. With an emotional whisper, he said:

"I love you. Just like this, I feel complete with you."

Noharu, with tears of happiness in his eyes, nodded, unable to find words to express what he felt. In that moment, everything was in its place, and both knew that, no matter what the future held, they would always have that instant of perfection, that moment when they found and completed each other.

. . .

Here are some drawings i made

Chapter Text

Winter had passed. The snow and cold that once covered the streets had melted, and timid flower buds peeked through, reminding everyone that time kept moving forward. The streets gleamed under the gentle late spring sun, and the air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh blooms. Everything seemed warmer, more alive, yet in Hikaru’s chest a tension had settled that he couldn’t ignore.

He had noticed how close Yoshiki and Noharu had become, how they looked at each other, how they seemed to seek one another out, how the world seemed to vanish around them when they were together. They weren’t the same as before. And even though Hikaru had known this for a while, facing it hurt more than he wanted to admit. Every smile Yoshiki gave Noharu, every little gesture of care, reminded him that he no longer held that exclusive place in Yoshiki’s world.

One afternoon, with the sky painted a melancholic orange, Hikaru found Yoshiki at the old playground where they used to lie on the pavement as kids, counting stars. The place was worn, the lines barely visible, but it had always held something special for them. Here, they had shared laughter, secrets, and silences that seemed endless. Time seemed to hold its breath between those cracked lines and broken concrete.

Hikaru sat down beside him, leaving just a small space between them. His knuckles were tense on his knees, and he avoided looking at Yoshiki, focusing on the cracks in the pavement under his fingers. Each second felt like his heart was beating harder, as if each thump reminded him that this moment could change everything, or nothing at all. Yoshiki glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a timid, almost nervous smile on his face, as if he feared breaking some fragile balance. The silence between them was dense, uncomfortable, filled with memories that seemed to watch every word left unspoken.

"You and Noharu…" Hikaru finally said, his voice lower than he expected. "You’re… different. Closer."

Yoshiki didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, but his timid smile slowly faded.

"Yeah…" he murmured at last. "I like him a lot."

Hikaru swallowed, his knuckles tightening even more, and kept looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact. Every word he wanted to say felt like a stone pressing on his chest.

"You know… there was a time I convinced myself that I felt the same way about you," he said, his voice shaking. "That what you felt for me, I felt too… but I never knew what to do with it. My goals, my life… it always seemed like they were on a different path than yours. I wanted a family, to stay in town, to live without anyone pointing at me for what I felt. And you… you always told me how much you wanted to leave, to explore the world, follow your own dreams." He took a deep breath, trying to organize the memories pressing down on him. "I could have lived with those feelings tucked away in a drawer, never seeing the light… until Noharu came, and everything changed."

Yoshiki shifted slightly toward him, and for a moment his eyes sparkled with emotion.

"Hikaru… I…" he whispered, voice barely audible. "I’ve always cared about you. You know that. But… what I feel for Noharu is different. He makes me feel appreciated in a way I never felt before. It’s not like what I felt for you… it’s something else, something bigger, that completes me in a way I didn’t expect."

Hikaru swallowed the lump in his throat, letting the truth sink in. He felt a strange relief in his chest. He finally understood that the fear of losing someone you love can push you to do things you don’t want to, to convince yourself there’s a path for you that isn’t really the right one. Sometimes letting go is also learning.

"I just want things to be okay between us," Hikaru said, his voice trembling. Yoshiki looked at him with a warmth that made him feel understood.

Hikaru swallowed another lump, feeling it grow in his chest, and unable to hold back his emotions, he threw himself at Yoshiki. His arms wrapped tightly around him, trembling slightly, and he rested his head on his shoulder. The familiar scent of Yoshiki enveloped him, and for a moment, all the weight he had carried for months seemed to dissolve in that embrace.

He let out a muffled sob, relief and nostalgia coursing through every fiber of his body. His tears soaked Yoshiki’s shirt, but Yoshiki didn’t pull away. He held him a little tighter, making sure he felt safe.

The world around them disappeared. There was no old playground, no flowers, no winter or summer. Only this moment, only this connection, reminding them that even if everything changes, some bonds remain.

Hikaru felt his heart loosen, finally able to admit that letting go hurt, but that it was okay. Between sobs and shaky breaths, he felt a warmth he hadn’t expected, and a faint tickle of laughter mingled with his tears.

"You haven’t cried since we were kids…" Yoshiki said, gently squeezing him and rubbing his back. "Have you always been this crybaby behind my back?"

Hikaru buried his face further into Yoshiki’s shoulder, clenching his teeth to hold back the mix of laughter and tears shaking him.

"Shut up, idiot," he murmured, voice broken, barely audible, but carrying the familiar banter only they shared.

Yoshiki let out a brief, shaky laugh. He didn’t let go. He held him tighter, as if trying to memorize the moment.

"There you are…" he whispered. "The real Hikaru."

Hikaru lifted his head slightly, eyes red and swollen, with a look that was half anger, half relief.

A heavy, intimate silence settled, where both seemed to search for words that would never be enough. Finally, Hikaru exhaled long and broken, murmuring:

"I hate you, dude."

Yoshiki laughed softly again.

"I love you too, Hikaru."

Hikaru’s chest burned, and he couldn’t help but let out a short, broken laugh mixed with fresh tears.

This moment didn’t solve everything, and at the same time, it solved everything.

"You know…" Yoshiki continued, pulling back slightly and resting his hands on Hikaru’s shoulders, a mischievous smile on his face. "Now that I think about it… you and Satou-san make a good pair. Really. I’m not joking, man, she’s probably the only girl in this town who can put up with a fool like you."

Hikaru scoffed, mixing laughter with tears, and lightly elbowed him.

"Don’t get too full of yourself just because you’re with my little brother!" he said playfully, though his heart felt calmer.

Yoshiki laughed softly, shrugging.

"Hikaru, we’ll always be best friends. Even if you’re still a fool."

Hikaru looked at him for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, saw Yoshiki smile genuinely, carefree and bright. He had never seen Yoshiki that happy, and an unexpected warmth filled his chest.

They stayed like that a while longer, in silence, soft laughter and sighs, as if time had slowed down just for them. The old playground, the warm air, everything seemed to conspire to make Hikaru understand that some goodbyes aren’t endings, but lessons in love, friendship, and acceptance.

Hikaru and Yoshiki stood up slowly, still carrying the warmth of their recent hug. Yoshiki reached out and held Hikaru’s hand gently, inviting him to walk beside him. He hesitated for a moment, but finally took it, feeling a thread of calm run through his chest.

“I have to go to the station, come with me.”

They started walking through the sunlit summer streets. Every corner seemed to carry memories from another life, as if the city itself was embracing them with nostalgia. Passing by the school, Hikaru remembered how they used to run together after classes, backpacks too big for their age, laughter echoing through empty hallways. Yoshiki smiled, recalling their playful arguments over who could get on the bike first or who would find the perfect shaded spot to rest while eating watermelon under the sun.

They reached the ice cream shop, and the scent of cookies and vanilla stirred another memory, how they would buy different flavors and share spoonfuls while sitting on the curb, watching people pass by. “You always said chocolate was the best, even though you ended up trying vanilla,” Yoshiki said, and Hikaru let out a soft laugh, mingling melancholy with joy.

A little further, they passed Yoshiki’s house. Hikaru remembered afternoons reading manga on the porch, endless laughter, and how time seemed to stop while sharing secrets and dreams. Each step reinforced the bond between them, blending nostalgia with the acceptance that some things change, but memories remain intact.

After the long walk, they finally arrived at the train station, the summer sunset shining over the tracks, making the heat of the asphalt intense beneath their feet. Noharu was sitting on a bench, his backpack by his side. Seeing them, he quickly turned, his eyes shining with surprise and joy.

“I didn’t know you were coming too, Hikaru!” he exclaimed, sitting up a bit. “Yoshiki and I are going to see a movie! Are you coming?”

Hikaru smiled weakly, feeling a mix of melancholy and satisfaction in his chest. “Thanks, brother… but I’ll pass today.” His voice was calm, sincere. “Have fun.”

Yoshiki nudged him gently, that shy smile always making him feel at home. “See you later, Hikaru. Take care, okay?” he said before taking Noharu’s arm and walking toward the train entrance, laughing together as they talked animatedly.

Hikaru stayed at the edge of the platform, watching his brother and best friend head inside the train, the sunlight illuminating their silhouettes. A gentle warmth filled his chest, different from what he had felt before; it was a calm, comforting heat.

“I’m happy for them,” Hikaru thought, letting a shy smile form on his face. “I really am… They’ve found something I couldn’t give them, the freedom to be themselves, without fears, without doubts. And I… I can stay here, watching them shine, feeling part of their happiness from afar. I don’t need to compete or take a place that’s no longer mine. I can just be here, content, with a calm heart, celebrating what they have. And that’s enough for me.”

. . .

The train moved smoothly, rocking them in a constant sway that seemed to sync with their heartbeats. Their thighs brushed lightly as they sat side by side, almost imperceptible contact, yet full of intimacy and silent promises.

Yoshiki couldn’t take his eyes off Noharu. His white hair reflected the last golden rays of the sun, and his gray eyes captured all the summer light, deep and calm. That appearance, which might have once reminded him of someone else, now belonged solely to him, unique and irreplaceable.

Noharu intertwined his fingers with Yoshiki’s, shy but confident, giving him a soft smile that made warmth spread through Yoshiki in a way he had never felt. It was a mix of relief, joy, and a quiet love that ran from his chest to their intertwined fingers.

“It’s hot…” Noharu murmured, barely above a whisper, “but I feel good. With you.”

Yoshiki smiled, a little nervous, unsure whether to speak or just enjoy the moment. Slowly, he lifted his other hand and gently ran it through Noharu’s hair, letting his fingers weave through the white strands. The touch was delicate, protective, and made Noharu close his eyes with an even calmer smile.

“Yeah… I feel good with you too,” Yoshiki finally said, gently squeezing his hand. “More than I ever imagined.”

The train passed over a bridge, and for a moment the sunlight reflected in Noharu’s eyes, illuminating every detail of his face. Yoshiki inhaled deeply, imprinting every detail in his mind, the curve of his lips, the softness of his cheek, the serene shine in his eyes. All of it belonged solely to him now.

“I never thought that…” Yoshiki began, but Noharu lightly brushed his arm, stopping him.

“Shh…” Noharu whispered, resting his head slightly on Yoshiki’s shoulder. “Don’t be so cheesy, you’ll make me blush.”

When they got off the train, Yoshiki held Noharu’s hand a little tighter, guiding him through the crowd. The sunlight faded behind the buildings, painting the sky in pink and violet tones. They walked together, slowly, savoring every second of silence and companionship.

At an avenue, Yoshiki stopped and looked at Noharu, whose eyes reflected a calm and happy light.

“This summer…” Yoshiki whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I’ll remember it forever. Because… I have you.”

Noharu placed his hands over Yoshiki’s, intertwining their fingers and returning a bright smile.

“Me too…” he said softly. “With you, I feel at home.”

They parted by only a few centimeters, enough to look into each other’s eyes, and at that moment, with the sun hiding behind the horizon, Yoshiki realized completely that this summer he had gained something he had always wished for, someone who could understand him, provide companionship, someone who made him feel he belonged in this world, giving him a comforting and cherished feeling, someone who made him truly happy and loved, just as he had always wanted.

“So…” Noharu murmured with a playful smile, “shall we go to the movies before it gets completely dark? I don’t want to miss a single minute.”

Yoshiki laughed softly and nodded, resting his arm on Noharu’s shoulder as they walked through the crowd together. Summer was far from over, but for them, this was the beginning of everything they wished for, their relationship, shared joy, and the certainty that they could be happy without fear, without rush, just together.

. . .

The boys had finally graduated from high school, proud of their diplomas, with their uniforms immaculate and nervous smiles framed by the flashes of family cameras. The ceremony felt like the end of a long chapter, with solemn speeches, songs about youth and hope, and the applause of parents hiding tears of pride and relief.

For Yoshiki, the event was more than a formality. Watching his classmates toss their caps into the air, hearing the laughter and shouts of freedom, made him realize that the town would always be part of his memory, but it would not be his final destination. His diploma felt light in his hands, but the future felt immense.

He knew exactly what he wanted: to attend university in Tokyo. His parents fully supported him, happy that their son had big dreams and even happier that he wouldn’t face the change alone. Noharu would be there, waiting, guiding, accompanying him. That thought eased the vertigo he felt at imagining the vast, noisy city.

The only person who knew the truth about their relationship was Hikaru. He had promised to keep it secret, more out of affection than obligation, preventing gossip from spreading through the town. Yoshiki appreciated this gesture more than he could ever say in words, a silent pact that protected him and brought him closer to his childhood friend.

He counted the days until departure. Tokyo meant more than studies; it was the chance to be himself, without masks or fear. He would miss his parents, his school, lifelong friends… even Hikaru. But he knew he had to take a step back, make his way, and start his life in a place where no one would reduce him to whispers or judgment.

Noharu, on the other hand, had never felt rooted anywhere. He had always floated like a traveler without a destination. Yet with Yoshiki, everything changed. He had found a safe place in him, a warm anchor that made him feel at home. That’s why, when Tokyo came up in conversation, he didn’t hesitate. He would follow Yoshiki anywhere. The place didn’t matter; being together did.

After many conversations and hurried plans, they decided to tell their families they would share an apartment in the capital, under the guise of a close friendship—“two boys who will look out for each other.”

Whenever a parent proudly commented on the strong friendship between the boys, Hikaru had to clench his jaw to avoid bursting into sarcastic laughter.

“Yeah, right… GREAT friends,” he thought, biting back a grin with a mix of amusement and complicity.

And though the white lie lingered in the air, for the three of them, this pact of silence was a way to protect what truly mattered: the possibility of a free future, far from the town’s weight, close to what they finally called home.

. . .

The platform smelled of metal and smoke, with cold wind blowing dried leaves and crumpled papers along its path. Every so often, the distant whistle of a train reminded them that time was running out, that the farewell could not be prolonged.

Yoshiki’s parents weren’t very expressive, but they had accompanied him with a seriousness that hid tenderness. His mother handed him a small notebook, filled with hurried notes.

“Here… addresses of restaurants, bookstores, temples, everything I thought might interest you. I don’t want you to get lost in that huge city,” she said, avoiding his gaze so as not to cry.

His father added with a pat on the shoulder, “And don’t forget to call, even if just once a week. It’s not a suggestion.”

Yoshiki smiled, trying not to break. “I will. Thank you, really.”

Kaoru was the most intense. She hugged him tightly, almost suffocating him. Her voice trembled, but she managed to lean close and whisper in his ear:

“Good luck with your cute boyfriend.”

Blood rushed to his face. Yoshiki froze, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Noharu raised an eyebrow, curious, while Hikaru looked at him as if he had seen a ghost.

“What? Why are you suddenly so red?” Kaoru asked, feigning innocence as she stepped back.

“N-nothing… nothing,” Yoshiki stammered, gripping his suitcase strap tightly.

Across the platform, the twins’ mother stood with the grandfather, leaning on his cane, silent but with emotions escaping in every awkward gesture. She couldn’t hold back her tears.

“I can’t believe I just had you back for a year… and now you have to leave again,” she said, smiling through sobs as she caressed Noharu’s face. “But if it’s your decision, if it’s your path… then I’m proud of you.”

Noharu bowed, pressing his forehead against hers in an intimate gesture shared only with her.

“I promise I’ll be fine, Mom. And I’ll call… I swear.”

Hikaru, who had stayed slightly apart until then, spoke up with a mix of complaint and laughter.

“Hey, don’t forget about me. I’m here too.”

His mother immediately hugged him tightly, as if wanting to compensate for his brother’s departure.

“At least I’ll always have one of my babies here in town,” she whispered, moved.

The silence became heavy for a moment. Hikaru approached Yoshiki and Noharu and, almost clumsily, wrapped them in a quick hug, as if trying to do it without anyone noticing too much.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily…” he murmured, smiling with a hint of sadness. Then he raised his phone. “But first, we need to take a photo.”

He handed the phone to Kaoru. She, laughing, nudged them into position to make sure they were close together.

“Closer, closer! Don’t look like strangers.”

Hikaru stood in the middle, Yoshiki on one side, Noharu on the other. The camera clicked, freezing their tense, happy, smiling faces. An image that would later become both a treasure and a wound.

The station’s loudspeaker announced the train’s arrival. The screech of the rails and the vibration of the ground made everyone aware of the inevitable.

“It’s time…” Yoshiki murmured.

“Yeah, it’s time,” Noharu repeated, lowering his gaze before gathering the strength to lift one of his suitcases.

They said goodbye one by one. Hugs, promises, “take care,” “don’t forget to write,” “call when you arrive.” And, finally, one last look at Hikaru, who raised his hand in a gesture that was half farewell, half silent plea for them to be happy.

The two boys boarded the train. The air inside smelled of old wood and worn seats. They found a spot by the window and placed their bags at their feet. Outside, their families still waved.

Noharu leaned toward Yoshiki, covering one of his hands with his. He squeezed it gently, until the skin of both burned with a shared warmth.

“I love you, Yoshiki,” he whispered, low enough for only him to hear.

Yoshiki turned his face, a nervous smile lighting up his moist eyes. “I love you too, Noharu.”

The train started with a roar of iron and smoke. Outside, the figures shrank, blurred by speed and the tears fogging the glass.

There, amidst suitcases and an uncertain future, they knew that even if their love remained a secret from the world, it was enough. Because they had each other.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Yoshiki and Noharu slipped out of their last few classes with an excitement that made their hearts race. Every glance around the crowded hallways was a gamble—they moved like shadows, careful not to draw attention, hands brushing accidentally—or maybe not so accidentally—against each other. Each touch sent sparks down their spines, a silent reminder of what awaited them.

Their laughter was barely audible, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. “Are you sure no one saw us?” Noharu whispered, his voice trembling slightly, a mix of fear and excitement.

“I think we’re good,” Yoshiki replied, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Besides, I’d rather risk getting caught than wait another second.”

The closer they got to Yoshiki’s house, the more their steps slowed, as if the world itself conspired to stretch every last moment before their freedom. Noharu reached for Yoshiki’s hand, their fingers intertwining tightly. The warmth of that contact, the pulse of their shared anticipation, made their chests tighten.

A sudden brush of Noharu’s shoulder against Yoshiki’s side was enough to trigger a low, hungry groan from Yoshiki, muffled by the corner of his sleeve. Noharu’s breath hitched, eyes widening as he felt the urgency pressing between them. Their steps became almost stumbling, neither willing to let go, neither wanting to break the contact even for a second.

When the front door came into view, they paused for a split second, eyes meeting in silent agreement. The world outside, the expectations of school, the distant echoes of passing students—all of it ceased to exist. Only the two of them, only this moment, existed.

Yoshiki’s fingers found Noharu’s hair, tugging gently as he leaned closer, lips barely brushing his. “I can’t wait,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with desire. Noharu shivered, leaning into the touch, the heat of Yoshiki’s body pressing against his own.

Finally inside, the door clicked softly behind them, the sound louder than expected in the quiet of the empty house. Yoshiki pressed Noharu against it instinctively, lips locking in a desperate, wet kiss. Noharu’s hands fisted into Yoshiki’s shirt, pulling him closer as if trying to erase any distance between them.

The hallway felt impossibly small, every breath, every heartbeat magnified. The scent of Yoshiki’s house, the faint trace of his mother’s perfume lingering in the air, mingled with the natural heat of their skin, intensifying the tension between them.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Yoshiki whispered against Noharu’s lips, teeth grazing gently over his lower lip. Noharu moaned softly, a sound that sent a shiver down both their spines.

With a shared glance that said more than words ever could, Yoshiki pulled Noharu toward the stairs, anticipation building with every step. Their bodies pressed together, hands exploring, lips colliding in bursts of needful urgency. By the time they reached Yoshiki’s room, they were both trembling, breathless, the air between them thick with desire.

The door was pushed open with a careless urgency, and Yoshiki kicked it shut behind them without hesitation.

Yoshiki and Noharu stumbled into his room, hearts pounding, lips immediately crashing together in desperate, wet kisses. The door slammed shut behind them, echoing softly through the empty house. Heat and urgency filled the air, their bodies pressing together as if trying to merge into one.

Yoshiki pressed Noharu against the door, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping his hip, feeling every shiver and pulse of desire. “Open your mouth wider,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse with need, teeth grazing Noharu’s lower lip.

Noharu’s cheeks flushed a deep red, a muffled groan escaping him as he leaned into Yoshiki, hands clutching his shirt desperately. Their tongues met again, wet and hungry, tangling and exploring, sliding together in a frantic dance that left them both gasping.

“I need you,” Yoshiki growled, hands sliding down Noharu’s body to grip his hips tightly. Noharu’s own body pressed back against him, hard and insistent, hips moving unconsciously. “I can’t wait any longer,” he moaned, his voice ragged with need.

Yoshiki smirked, tossing Noharu onto the bed, covering him completely. His hands roamed, tracing every curve, teasing every inch of his boyfriend’s skin. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, letting his fingers wander from Noharu’s neck down to his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples gently.

Noharu arched his back, a soft moan escaping his lips. “Yoshiki… stop teasing,” he begged, voice shaky, hands clutching the sheets.

Yoshiki leaned down, lips moving to Noharu’s neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and soft bites. His hands slid lower, brushing the waistband of Noharu’s pants, feeling the hard length straining beneath. Noharu tensed, hips lifting instinctively.

“D-don’t make me wait any longer…” he gasped, tugging at Yoshiki’s hair, desperate for more.

"Let me taste you first," Yoshiki replied. He undid Noharu's belt with one hand, his lips never leaving his boyfriend's. In one swift motion, he pulled down Noharu's pants and underwear, freeing Noharu's erection. "God, Noharu, you're so hard for me," Yoshiki murmured, his hand wrapping around Noharu's length, feeling the wetness at the tip.

Noharu gasped, his hips moving in time with Yoshiki's movements. "Yoshiki, please..." he begged, his hands desperately pulling at Yoshiki's hair, directing it towards his groin. Yoshiki's head moved down, his mouth replacing his hand, tasting Noharu's salty wetness..

“I… I don’t know if I can last much longer,” he panted, hips bucking involuntarily.

Yoshiki grinned, increasing the pace, hand and mouth working in perfect sync, every flick of his tongue and squeeze of his hand driving Noharu closer to the edge. “then just come in my mouth,” he murmured against Noharu’s skin. With a final shuddering groan, Noharu came, body convulsing, and Yoshiki swallowed eagerly, prolonging the release with gentle strokes.

Breathless and flushed, Noharu’s eyes met Yoshiki’s, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Yoshiki climbed atop him, sharing a deep, lingering kiss. “I’ve got so much more planned for you,” he murmured, hips pressing insistently against Noharu, reigniting the fire between them.

Noharu’s eyes glimmered with renewed desire, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Ah… poor little me” he whispered, pulling Yoshiki closer, their bodies entwined, ready to explore every inch of their mutual craving.

. . .

A few hours earlier, Yoshiki had been struggling to focus in history class, his mind flooded with thoughts of Noharu. Every glance at him, sitting a few seats away, ignited memories of their earlier encounters: desperate kisses, shivers of pleasure, trembling bodies pressed together. The desire bubbling inside him was almost unbearable.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Yoshiki discreetly pulled out his phone. His fingers shook slightly as he typed:

“My mom and Kaoru are out until later this afternoon. Want to ditch?”

Noharu’s eyes widened as he saw the message. A deep blush spread across his cheeks, and a shy, knowing smile tugged at his lips. Without a word, he responded with a subtle thumbs-up, letting Yoshiki know he completely understood. The spark of anticipation between them was unmistakable.

The rest of the class dragged on, each second stretching as they stole glances at each other, hearts racing. Finally, the teacher dismissed them, and they packed up with quiet urgency, moving swiftly toward the exit.

From the back of the classroom, Hikaru slouched in his chair, arms crossed, watching every subtle gesture. His face twisted in a mix of frustration and secondhand embarrassment. He had suspected for a while what Yoshiki and Noharu were planning, but witnessing it unfold—the glances, the mischievous grin over the phone, the unspoken complicity—made him groan inwardly.

“Gross,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I even have to see this? I really do not want to know what they’re thinking.”

His mind raced ahead, imagining the teasing he would have to endure from friends later, the jokes about Yoshiki and Noharu’s “romantic escape.” And I’ll have to come up with excuses… lie, somehow explain them, keep them out of trouble… he thought, feeling a flush of dread rise in his chest. All he wanted was for the floor to swallow him up as the two slipped away, unabashed and eager.

. . .

The air in Yoshiki’s room was thick with heat, sweat, and an almost tangible urgency. Wet, slapping sounds echoed with every thrust, mingling with ragged breaths, muffled moans, and the violent creak of the bed against the wall. Noharu lay face down, hips raised, his school shirt haphazardly unbuttoned and sliding from his shoulders in a messy heap. Yoshiki’s pants lay discarded on the floor, forgotten, alongside Noharu’s own. A bottle of lubricant had spilled beside the bed, its contents forming a slick, shining puddle across the tatami, catching the light with each frantic movement.

Yoshiki pressed himself against Noharu, his desperation almost animalistic. Each thrust was harder, wetter, and more urgent than the last. The bed slammed against the wall with every motion, echoing their untamed rhythm. “You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this all day,” Yoshiki groaned, lips leaving a trail of wet, urgent kisses along Noharu’s shoulders and spine.

Noharu gasped, hands clutching the sheets, fingers digging in as his body trembled. “Ahh… harder… don’t stop… please…” His voice was broken, breathless, each word a shiver of need. His body arched instinctively, pressing into Yoshiki with every movement.

Yoshiki’s hands gripped Noharu’s hips tightly, guiding each movement with firm, insistent force. The wet slap of flesh on flesh, combined with the slickness of spilled lubricant, filled the room with the chaotic rhythm of their passion. Yoshiki glanced down, noticing his own semen glistening and slowly sliding down Noharu’s thighs, and a fresh wave of arousal shot through him. He thrust harder, deeper, faster, feeling the slick warmth of their shared release between them.

Noharu’s moans grew louder, sharper, his body convulsing with every pulse of Yoshiki’s thrusts. His back arched violently, fingers clutching Yoshiki’s shoulders, hips bucking, every movement a desperate plea for more. “So… so deep… I can’t… I can’t hold on…” he gasped, trembling and soaked in sweat.

Yoshiki’s mouth traveled down Noharu’s back, teeth grazing sensitive skin, lips pressing wet, burning kisses across the curve of his shoulder. One hand cupped Noharu’s ass, holding him firmly, while the other traced every slick inch of his spine. Each motion made a wet, sticky sound as their bodies collided, the bed creaking and rattling beneath them.

Finally, Noharu’s body convulsed, shuddering violently as he came, muffled cries escaping his lips. Muscles tensed, then relaxed, every pulse making Yoshiki feel the slick warmth of their combined release. He held him tight, letting the moment stretch, savoring every twitch and quiver. His eyes followed the glistening trail of his own semen sliding down Noharu’s thighs, a sight that made him groan and grow harder almost instantly.

When Noharu finally lay there, trembling, gasping, and satisfied, Yoshiki slowly climbed atop him, pressing his lips in a wet, desperate kiss. Their tongues tangled, slick and frantic, exploring one another, reigniting the heat between them. The bed creaked and groaned under the renewed weight, their bodies slick with sweat, semen, and lubricant.

Noharu’s hands tangled in Yoshiki’s hair, pulling him closer. His lips parted slightly, breathing ragged. Then, eyes half-lidded and a small, teasing smile on his face, he whispered, “Do… do you want to go again?”

. . .

Kaoru, Yoshiki’s little sister, had come home earlier than usual. As she opened the front door, the sounds from inside froze her in place. From the hallway, she could clearly hear moans and gasps coming from Yoshiki’s room.

Every step she took deeper into the house made the noises louder, her heart hammering in her chest.

“N-Noharu…” Yoshiki’s voice came, rough and urgent. Then Noharu gasped, trembling: “Nghh… Y-Yoshiki…!” That single moan, full of heat and urgency, made Kaoru freeze completely, cheeks burning. She realized she was hearing her brother and his friend, Hikaru's twin, and in that moment, everything clicked—she had always suspected something like this. After all, Yoshiki had never shown any real interest in the girls from the village.

Kaoru pressed herself against the wall, trying to make herself as small and silent as possible. Every step toward the front door felt like walking on knives. Every wet slap, every moan, every ragged breath seemed to chase her, hammering into her mind what was happening inside.

Finally, she reached the front door. Her hand shook as she opened it slowly, careful not to let it creak. Stepping outside, the cool air hit her flushed face, offering a brief sense of relief.

“I knew it…” she thought, heart still racing. She had intuited that her brother might be involved with someone his own age, but hearing it—really hearing it—was another level entirely. Embarrassment, curiosity, and disbelief twisted together, but Kaoru knew the smartest thing to do was keep her distance and play dumb, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing.

With a last glance at the closed door, she walked away from the house, mind buzzing with the sounds and images she had just witnessed. She silently promised herself to protect her brother’s secret, avoid any awkward confrontations, and keep pretending she didn’t know anything.

. . .

Later that evening, Yoshiki sat down for dinner with his mom and Kaoru. The atmosphere was tense. Kaoru’s cheeks were still pink, and her eyes darted away every time Yoshiki looked at her. She picked at her food, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with her utensils.

“Hey, Kaoru, you okay?” Yoshiki asked casually. “You seem kinda… off.”

Kaoru’s face flushed even more. “Y-yeah… just tired, that’s all,” she muttered, keeping her voice light.

Their mom noticed Kaoru’s discomfort and smiled gently. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?"

Kaoru shook her head quickly, forcing a weak smile. “No, really… I think I’ll just head to bed early,” she said, leaving most of her food untouched, faking ignorance to avoid raising questions.

Yoshiki exchanged a glance with their mom, silently noting Kaoru’s unusual behavior. The rest of dinner passed in tense silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts, the shadow of uncertainty hanging heavily over the table.