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chineseinkEmi's birthday.
08.12.2005
I really don’t know enough about this series to write them accurately. Forgive me if there are any glaring errors. Or any errors in general.
11. distractions; Gojyo/Hakkai, saiyuki, pg-13
Hakkai knows a lot of things by instinct. Some of those things, like when a person is in mortal fear or where the attacker will next move, are due to his youkai instincts. Other things, like knowing that Gojyo hates celebrating his birthday, have a lot to do with his knowledge of the crimson-haired man. They do live together after all and Hakkai is nothing if not perceptive.
Gojyo hates any reminder of his mother—the mother who hates the sight of him and his half blood, the mother who hit him and screamed at him and tried to kill him, who has scarred him physically and mentally. He hates being reminded of his birth every year, marking of another year of his miserable existence, of a life half-lived and worthless, another year that brings him closer to death.
He always drinks himself into oblivion on his birthday and Hakkai can see that he doesn’t plan on making this year an exception.
Smoke curls towards the ceiling from the cigarette dangling between Gojyo’s fingers. His fifth in the past hour, and already a good dozen stubs scattered half in and half out of the ashtray at his feet. Empty beer cans—six, Hakkai counts—are strewn around him as well; a lanky figure sprawled on the floor at the foot of their bed, back against the mattress and hair in his face.
“Gojyo,” he says quietly, having been bullied into dropping the “-san” a long time ago. He picks his way across the floor and seats himself besides long-haired man, pulling his knees up toward his chest and reaching for an unopened can on the floor between them. “May I?”
“Whatever,” sighs Gojyo, tilting his head back. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette.
They sit in silence for awhile, broken only by the irregular huffs of air when Gojyo blows out smoke and the gentle sloshing of the beer. After a few minutes, Gojyo’s head falls onto Hakkai’s shoulder, hair spilling down Hakkai’s shirt. “Dammit,” he curses, hand falling limply to his side. “Why aren’t I drunk yet, Hakkai?”
Hakkai glances at him. “Your body has grown accustomed to alcohol,” he says noncommittally. “Your tolerance is now substantially higher than it used to be. Which,” he adds softly, “is not a good thing, Gojyo.”
Gojyo grinds out his cigarette into the ashtray. “I know,” he mutters into Hakkai’s shoulder. “I just want to get my mind away from—god, everything. Every shitty little goddamn thing.” He snorts. “If the women could see me now, huh? Never get to bed another.”
Hakkai carefully sets his half-empty beer can down. “You should stop thinking so much,” he says, lifting Gojyo’s head from his shoulder and turning to peer into those red, red eyes.
“Yeah?” Gojyo’s breath stinks of tobacco and alcohol and his hair falls like silk. “What, ya gonna distract me, then?”
“If you wish,” Hakkai replies very seriously.
Gojyo closes his eyes. “Just make it all shut the fuck up,” he breathes and closes the distance between them.
--
Though I’ve read a lot of fiction for this pairing, it was my first time writing them.
08.12.2005
I really don’t know enough about this series to write them accurately. Forgive me if there are any glaring errors. Or any errors in general.
11. distractions; Gojyo/Hakkai, saiyuki, pg-13
Hakkai knows a lot of things by instinct. Some of those things, like when a person is in mortal fear or where the attacker will next move, are due to his youkai instincts. Other things, like knowing that Gojyo hates celebrating his birthday, have a lot to do with his knowledge of the crimson-haired man. They do live together after all and Hakkai is nothing if not perceptive.
Gojyo hates any reminder of his mother—the mother who hates the sight of him and his half blood, the mother who hit him and screamed at him and tried to kill him, who has scarred him physically and mentally. He hates being reminded of his birth every year, marking of another year of his miserable existence, of a life half-lived and worthless, another year that brings him closer to death.
He always drinks himself into oblivion on his birthday and Hakkai can see that he doesn’t plan on making this year an exception.
Smoke curls towards the ceiling from the cigarette dangling between Gojyo’s fingers. His fifth in the past hour, and already a good dozen stubs scattered half in and half out of the ashtray at his feet. Empty beer cans—six, Hakkai counts—are strewn around him as well; a lanky figure sprawled on the floor at the foot of their bed, back against the mattress and hair in his face.
“Gojyo,” he says quietly, having been bullied into dropping the “-san” a long time ago. He picks his way across the floor and seats himself besides long-haired man, pulling his knees up toward his chest and reaching for an unopened can on the floor between them. “May I?”
“Whatever,” sighs Gojyo, tilting his head back. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette.
They sit in silence for awhile, broken only by the irregular huffs of air when Gojyo blows out smoke and the gentle sloshing of the beer. After a few minutes, Gojyo’s head falls onto Hakkai’s shoulder, hair spilling down Hakkai’s shirt. “Dammit,” he curses, hand falling limply to his side. “Why aren’t I drunk yet, Hakkai?”
Hakkai glances at him. “Your body has grown accustomed to alcohol,” he says noncommittally. “Your tolerance is now substantially higher than it used to be. Which,” he adds softly, “is not a good thing, Gojyo.”
Gojyo grinds out his cigarette into the ashtray. “I know,” he mutters into Hakkai’s shoulder. “I just want to get my mind away from—god, everything. Every shitty little goddamn thing.” He snorts. “If the women could see me now, huh? Never get to bed another.”
Hakkai carefully sets his half-empty beer can down. “You should stop thinking so much,” he says, lifting Gojyo’s head from his shoulder and turning to peer into those red, red eyes.
“Yeah?” Gojyo’s breath stinks of tobacco and alcohol and his hair falls like silk. “What, ya gonna distract me, then?”
“If you wish,” Hakkai replies very seriously.
Gojyo closes his eyes. “Just make it all shut the fuck up,” he breathes and closes the distance between them.
--
Though I’ve read a lot of fiction for this pairing, it was my first time writing them.
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