Have a Hikaru and Yoru drabble/short story loosely based off this amazing piece of writing right here!!
For a little more context, see here and here
An expanded version of this will be coming to ao3 and Wattpad in the future!
Disclaimer: I still know little to nothing about Hikaru and Mitsuru, I just have an idea in my head of what they’d be like.
From the moment he had met the small blue-ball-of-fire named Ichihoshi Mitsuru, Yoru had gotten the strangest sense of déjà vu.
The way his psyche had split, the angry cold fire chasing away and burning out the scared and terrified earthy one, had made something simultaneously protective and painful surface in his chest similar to the feeling he’d gotten when looking at Shirou and Atsuya the first time.
Something curled deep in his chest, whispering in the back of his mind and urging him to hurry, to help him before something terrifying happened; before this boy and the personality he was trying to snuff out got hurt.
So he did his best to befriend Mitsuru while trying to open him up as subtly as he could. Yoru knew it would help nothing to force the answer-- in fact, it had a much higher chance of making it worse. It left him with a feeling in his chest he hated, but only so much prodding and poking would be allowed before getting shut out entirely, and he couldn’t let that happen, either.
All he could do was watch and wait, the feeling in his chest getting worse and worse the more days passed. And when Mitsuru broke, Yoru felt his entire body turn cold.
An image overlapped with the cracking and breaking of Mitsuru and the other personality’s flames, another set of red and blue that shattered in the same way.
Broken shards of glass turning to dust in silver and blue hair, shining like diamonds while melting as tears at their feet.
Where Mitsuru had clawed and fought against Yoru’s friendship, Hikaru fit like a puzzle piece. He was smart and observant, and didn’t push away when he needed help. Let Yoru be a shoulder to lean on instead of bottle everything inside. Hikaru struggled often with saying what was on his mind, but Yoru didn’t mind. Sometimes it helped to wait, for more reason than one.
“Yukimura... why do you fight so hard for my brother for Atsuya and I?”
The question was familiar; one that echoed and overlapped in Yoru’s head. It breathed through him like the wind, creating a storm of “I know this” and emotions Yoru could not place inside his chest. But no matter how hard he tried to cling to those feelings, they slipped through his fingers like steam.
In the end, the déjà vu was constant enough Yoru barely thought on it. Instead he smiled, closed his book, and looked Hikaru in the eyes. Took in the different coloring, the changed shape of his hair. How he looked so much softer than his brother, and yet still so similar.
A strange fullness, similar to the happiness that overwhelmed him the first time he saw the Fubuki brothers, welled in his chest. One that hurt just as much as it warmed him. “You... remind me of someone. Someone who was just like you.”
The question threw Yoru off guard; just who was it who always came to mind? Who caused his chest to feel like it was about to explode with a tangled mess of worry, fear, love, and pride? He did not know, and yet found the answers came to him as easily as the scent of hot chocolate and the tickle of snowflakes melting on his skin.
Hikaru was silent for a while after, contemplative as he chewed on his lower lip. “…They’re happy?”
Laughter twinkling like stars, a smile brighter than the sun.
Yoru smiled, chest warm. “Incredibly so.” He cocked his head to the side as he took in Hikaru’s expression. “Are you?”
The way Hikaru frowned, confused and more than a little lost, mimicked something Yoru swore he could see.
A splash of silver, dash of gold flashing over teal-grey, tears in their eyes--
Yoru blinked; the stranger was gone.
“I… don’t know.” Hikaru admitted, voice small. “I think I am? I… I feel like I am.” His eyebrows furrowed; he looked up from his lap, meeting Yoru’s eyes. “But something still feels broken, too.”
