★M4PLEST4R★

The Summer Hikaru Died is like. what if you believed you were a disgusting monster for being gay. but then you meet a real monster, and over time you start to believe that even this monster deserves to be safe and happy, and it's the first time you start allowing yourself to believe that maybe you do too. what if I cried one million tears forever

“your friend is dead, and their corpse is inhabited by something only you can see for what it truly is" is already good horror. but "you begin to love the thing that wears their face"? the blasphemy of it. terror turning into desire. grief turning into longing. being enticed by what should repel you. it twists the knife deeper, because the horror is not based on deception anymore. the fear comes from recognizing the monster in its raw form and finding beauty there. you're not clinging to scraps of your friend, you're surrendering to something other, something wrong, and loving it. you're not holding onto a ghost of the past, it’s the monster itself that you choose