Remnants
(unfinished. don’t know when ill update)
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On most days, Yoshiki thought his heart would give up and burst or wither away into dust. He couldn’t understand how torn another human could become when dealing with harrowing grief. Not until his whole life was snatched from his hands. He wasn’t given any warning. No warnings from nature through harsh winds, rain, or the birds. The birds could’ve warned him. The sea did nothing but rage on.
The pit in his stomach that formed when Hikaru went missing turned into a permanent one. A hikaru-shaped hole that takes up most of the space inside him. Every time he sobbed, the pain pulsed and permeated through him. The ache in his skull was constant, and his chest managed to cave in some more each time.
Seventeen years on this earth still haven’t prepared him to deal with this grief. Who was going to tell him the number of years on this earth didn’t matter? It was going to hurt all the same. This grief he’s forced to hold onto. This grief has zero chances of escaping. It’s a part of him now, holding him hostage just as much as he holds it hostage. It distorts inside of him like a disfigured knife with blunt edges poking wherever it can.
—
The shrill noise of cicadas dies down a little after dusk. Despite the absence of the harsh sun, the warm heat remains and clutches onto Yoshiki’s skin. Keeping the window open does nothing but air out the room. Even the slow winds touching him here and there feel hot. The clock just keeps on ticking. Another weight on his chest. An urge to run to the sea slowly overtakes his thoughts. It’s past one in the morning, and he knows he shouldn’t leave. He can’t stop thinking about the sea. The beach. Frames of Hikaru and not Hikaru run through his mind like they do every single day.
The stars twinkle in the night sky, staring back at Yoshiki. He reaches an arm out without moving from his lying position as if the stars are right here. Right next to him. His features slowly contort as he feels another harsh wave incoming. He draws his arm back and drops it as the lump in his throat grows stronger. His vision blurs with unshed tears, and his bottom lip quivers as he stands on the edge of another breakdown.
He can’t ignore it even if he wanted to. Whether his eyes are closed or open, he sees everything. But in his hands, are nothing but grief. He spends the days doing mundane activities, which include forcing himself to eat and bathe. He spends his days in trepidation and breaks in the late hours of the night.
A few shaky exhales leave his lips before the hot tears start sliding down into his hair, and a slow cry emerges from the depths of his soul. He makes slow movements to curl in on himself. Curling into a fetal position out of habit, like a flight response, as his cries grow more strained and ragged. He’s never cried over death until Hikaru. He’s never felt this way before. He doesn’t know where to look or if it’s okay to touch Hikaru. He feels the same old guilt gnawing on his insides. His body trembles with each anguished cry. He’ll force his lips to remain shut when he hears himself getting too loud, but they’ll break open anyway without permission to release more cries. He feels himself sweating and hates how uncomfortable it becomes. He no longer calls out for Hikaru and for him to come back during his crying sessions. He doesn’t know what to call out for. He’s started to think about the future as much as the past. With Hikaru present, the past and future start to bleed into each other. He’s holding both with his two hands, scared shitless.
There’s this growth inside of him screaming to come out pulses wildly. A rotten seed he rolls in his head, feels in his chest and in the pit of his stomach decaying more and more. He doesn’t want to confront it. Doesn’t want to look at it.
Doesn’t want to accept it.
After what feels like an eternity of crying, he feels how much his energy has depleted. The weight of his eyelids with every blink of his eyes, and an ache beneath his forehead. He moves from his fetal position to lift himself into a sitting position. His bones hurt, and a shiver runs down his spine. Looking down at the big wet spot he created with tears, he brushes the crinkled sheet. With every new breath, he feels himself growing weaker and more tired.
“H-Hikaru.” He softly calls out before falling back, his head hitting the pillow and sinking a few inches into the soft material. His eyes stay closed from bone-deep exhaustion. He knows he’ll have to ice his swollen eyelids in the morning before his parents or sister can see. He thinks about Hikaru’s smile. Hikaru’s smile. The flower-looking iris with a red pupil. The petals in the iris shake and fall apart, and then the eyes change. He watches his Hikaru blinking at him with a knowing expression. With a hand clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, Yoshiki succumbs to sleep. His body feels light and heavy simultaneously as he drifts and drifts, dreading another day of all of this.
He wants to go to the beach.
—
The sunset rages above. Shades of purple and red clash in the skies with darkened clouds, a warning sign of rain incoming. The sea remains calm, waves traveling in small ripples. Yoshiki stares ahead at the bright horizon where the sea kisses the sky. His longing stretches far beyond it. His fingers twitch at his sides, the need to be held or hold something slowly creeps from inside him, wrapping him in a thin layer of utter desire. The waves grow harsher in the distance and become calm the moment they reach his toes. The clouds grow darker, and the leftover sunset disperses. Yoshiki takes a few steps back. His feet move before he can think. Doing his thinking for him. All he wants to do is move backwards.
He stops two feet away from the water, remaining near the shore. The hot sand beneath is rough on the soles of his feet.
He hasn’t shed a tear in three days. His heart remains in his throat, pulsing and waiting. He laughs and hangs out with Hikaru as his denial continues to simmer. He ignores the spikes of anger. It calms down one day and boils over another day in a ceaseless cycle. He wants to bring him here. He’s never seen the sea. He wants to grant this wish of his, knowing the entity can go all by himself. But, he remembers, and he remembers well.
A streak of lightning presents itself silently in the far distance, momentarily illuminating the clouds surrounding it. The sky grew even darker. Oh, to be that lightning streak. He could’ve been closer to the horizon.
“Yoshiki, I wanna go to the beach! We can play volleyball and catch baby crabs!”
“Idiot, don’t bother baby crabs.”
“HAHAHAaaa…I won’t. I really wanna see the sea, Yoshiki. You can be there to monitor me.”
“Why do I need to watch you? You’re not a baby.”
“Okay, then I’ll watch you and the sea,” Hikaru said with amusement before flashing a big smile that turned his eyes into crescents. Makes Yoshiki’s chest hurt.
Hikaru always looked at him with this knowing smile that looked as if it held so many secrets, but this Hikaru is still learning to walk and learn what life and love are.
Low sounds of thunder reach Yoshiki’s ears. He should turn around and head home, but he’s stopped taking steps, and he doesn’t want to move. The sand holds him here. The horizon, the grief, and everything in between are waiting for him to boil over.
The first drop of rain touches the tip of his nose before it falls to the sand. He blinks and swallows, taking a shaky inhale when he feels how painful the lump is. His fingers curl into fists. More raindrops start hammering down. The rise and fall of his chest quickens with his shorter breaths as he tries his best to hold it all in.
A harsh gust of wind instantly causes him to shiver as the rainfall becomes heavier. His white shirt and overall uniform start sticking to his skin. Claps of thunder mock him, urging him to let go.
He’s soaking wet now, and he feels his control slipping away with the rain. His lips part, and he closes his eyes to shield them from the heavy rain and lets out the first silent cry. His shoulders start to shake, his body gearing up to expel remnants of the grief he shoulders. His eyebrows are furrowed, nose twitching, and lips downturned, expression displaying distress, frustration, and sadness. His heart squeezes inside beneath his ribcage as the pit in his lower stomach rolls around. He feels himself growing unsteady and uncurls his fingers before falling on his knees.
He’s loudly sobbing now, louder than he’s ever been, knowing there’s no one here to hear him. Perhaps, very deep inside, he doesn’t want it all to go unheard. He grabs fistfuls of wet, gritty sand, wailing at the ground. His tears and snot are washed away with the rain, so this time, it doesn’t count. He won’t leave a wet mess on the clean sheets. There’s no evidence of him failing to keep it all under control.
He’s not here, and he’s not crying over the past. He’s not crying about what he’s taken for granted. He’s not grieving because all he wants is still here. HikaruHikaru is still here, and he wants to come to the beach with him.
“Aghk, ha, haa..!” He cries out with his mouth open, opening and closing his eyes as his chest continues to constrict and his throat dries up. His body trembles with each loud cry.
For a second, he thinks about crawling towards the sea and letting it take him. It doesn’t matter. He wants to go. It’ll be easier; he can’t swim that well. Letting the sea wash his grief away. He can’t remove this permanent stain. What can he do when he wants to have it forever and let it go at the same time? He’s inconsolable.
One long cry has him falling forward, his heart jerking against his ribcage with the movement, and he turns his head at the last two seconds so his left cheek meets the sand. He still clutches onto some sand. His cries grow weaker, and he feels spit coating his lips that’s quickly washed away. Rubbing his cheek against the wet sand, he calls out for Hikaru.
“Hikaru…” He calls out softly, expression still contorted in pain, before a crooked smile appears.
“C-Come back.” He whispers, unclenching and clenching his fist around the wet sand, wanting to hold. Wanting to hold-
Mere seconds pass before the smile vanishes, and he’s weeping, much quieter now, or it’s the rain drowning out everything he hears.
He feels as if he’s being punished by everything and everyone out there, bringing his left palm a few inches above the sand and hitting it repeatedly. He grabs another fistful of wet sand with tremor-ridden fingers. His bottom lip wobbles, and he’s just so fucking mad at himself. He slowly sits up, hyper aware of the droplets hitting him all over.
He’s mad at himself for lying to himself and others. He’s mad at himself for treating Hikaru the way he does. He’s mad at a part of himself for accepting this. Whatever it is that’s raging madly inside him and eating away. He’s mad at himself for ignoring the way his dad tried to reach out to him. He’s mad at himself for ignoring his outstretched hand and shoulder to lean on. He’s mad at the past. He’s mad at this village and everyone’s beliefs. He’s mad at the sea, which refuses to take him unless he takes himself.
Before his brain can register, Yoshiki shoves a handful of watery sand in his mouth, and he immediately gags. His cries are ceaseless, and he feels a migraine bloom beneath his skull. An earthy and salty taste floods his mouth, and his cries are broken as he gags again. He wants to stop this useless crying, and the sand won’t even help.
His right fingernails are digging harshly into his palm as his left hand continues to assault his mouth with sand. This time, he keeps the palm over his mouth, his shoulders shaking, and a hint of fear nudging him. A few seconds pass, and he jerks forward, left hand falling to the sand against his will as he gags and chokes before vomiting. He panics and tries not to swallow, his body reacting without approval. All he expels is stomach acid and bits of sand, and he lets out a broken groan that molds into ragged sobs.
It goes unheard.
