『 R E Q U E S T S , C L O S E D 』AnimeCharacters x Reader

33. Hitachiin Hikaru x Reader x Hitachiin Kaoru | 1/365, Birthday

→ characters : Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru | Ouran Highschool Host Club

→ requested by : SasheeTadashee

→ 05132017

→ wherein things are going to be lost, things are going to be sound- such is the natural order of things; a line of code far too deeply embedded onto the flawlessness of the surface of time that the evolution of the years could never hope to erode. or that's what you think. hikaru and kaoru simply think you've got a wonderful sense of humor.

[a/n]: welp this is the last request. any of you readers got any more you'd like to send me? i don't bite i swear. ((oh god what was this-))

xx

You've never liked it when your thoughts wandered, but you've no leather rope nor any binds to constrict your mind with. First, it's things that bubble with innocence, that play smiles barely noticeable to the ones too involved in conversations with their friends two seats away.

Slowly, it sinks. Into a darkness too tight and straining to escape from, and you're left choking on oxygen. 

You've never liked it when your thoughts wandered, and the closest thing to escape leaves you wiggled the deepest into your chair that your slouched back allows as you permit the teacher to bore your mind into a dull inactivity marinated with the hollow taps of your pen against the side of the desk.

But when you're a touch too careless, staring into the aged wood of the desk a little too intense, the black silence of your mind suddenly develops into a vivid painting that clashes far too angrily that it almost seems real. You remember the screeching wheels at the sudden halt, sentences punctuated prematurely, and all that's left hanging in the air are the gasps of the passing strangers and the heaviness of spilled gasoline.

You remember returning the carelessly tumbling sentences of your terrified parents with tired nods. They're crying, they're trembling, they're hurting, and you are, too. Through the elegant tangle of the wires and the beeps of the horridly plain of the machine that slowly even to a monotonousness that camouflages easily with the violet grimness, you can only stare, through eyes glassy with morphine and tears not shed.

Through each tick of a completed minute, you lament, and you regret. Why were you able to return to the comforts of your home, heavy with bandages and stitches and bruises? When your dearest twin, even the whistling leaves know she's the better character, was left alone to decay under the fainting light of the morgue? 

You never receive the answer, you only receive cards that glitter with "Get well" and gel ink messages, and presents, even if the correct holidays were solid months away.

xx

"Happy birthday, (F/N)!" Hikaru and Kaoru sing and ah- it's your twin's birthday, too, but she's far too tangled in her flowing toga and her golden instruments up above even the puffed clouds.

You produce a smile, factorized and made-to-order, and you wonder how much more you'd need to excavate from yourself before you're simply hollowed and irrevocably broken, like a striped seashell crushed under the sole of a cheap sandal.

The smile, too, feels like plastic, secured around the lips that hurt with invisible bruises still, until you're sputtering and suffocating and just as lifeless as the small gift Kaoru nests on your palm.

"Oi, oi."

You look up from where your fingers curl into the gift box, Hikaru and Kaoru, equally as skillfully perceptive as they were laughably unaware, looked down at you in silent concern.

"I know you're still pretty bummed out about your twin, but you gotta hold your head up real high, or else you're gonna look poor."

"Like Haruhi."

"Exactly." They smile, too, when you giggle a little.

"If you're gonna fake smile, at least make it believable, you can't fool us, (F/N)," Hikaru says, "c'mon it's your birthday for God's sake, give us that real shit."

"Well, since Hikaru forgot his present-"

"Ah yes that I did. But! I decided to make it up to you, for the modest price of your consent, you get to spend all of today with the beloved Hitachiin twins."

"Are you sure about the 'beloved' part?" you jest, and their faces twist into mild offense, "I joke, I joke, but thank you guys, really. It means a lot."

xx

It matters not the empty pit carved into the loveliest and the most passionate fragments of your heart, nor the ugly black pops of sludge that slither endlessly at the bottom, where no light dares to venture, that try to thieve you from your bliss by the bones of your ankles and drag you to a misery that clothes you like the first rays of the morning.

Hikaru and Kaoru are there, like diagonal pickets, like the shape of a warning sign in contrasting neon yellows and blacks. Hikaru and Kaoru kept you guarded, kept you from tripping, slipping into the swallowing darkness of the pit again.

Your heart was left a little emptier, a little colder, a little chipped, you'd always have their sideways glances when you cross the hallway, a laugh that slips past their tongues, their chipper hoots of your name.

In those moments, past forgotten, broken pieces collected, your heart felt whole and bandaged, and your smile shined more genuine than ever.