Gojyo is frozen, stuck in the doorway staring out at the moon and the night and Hakkai. Right now, they could all be one and the same.
He doesn't know if it's very late or very early, just that he's woken up without knowing what woke him. The moon is skimming low over the trees, huge and silver-white and throwing shadows everywhere. It'll be summer soon, but the wind is cool, and it stirs the trees restlessly so that they sound as if they're murmuring to themselves.
Hakkai doesn't move. The wind picks at his hair, his clothes. Even in the dark, Gojyo can see that his limiters are gone.
Gojyo wants to call out to him, but his voice sticks in his throat. He can only watch Hakkai watching him. He can't even make himself move, and he's not entirely sure whether it's fear or wonder that keeps him rooted in place, because Hakkai is a scary motherfucker, but he's also the most beautiful thing Gojyo has ever seen.
He wonders what Hakkai would say, if he ever told him.
It's a long time before anyone makes a move. Gojyo breaks first. He steps off the porch and into the cool grass, soft and a little damp against his bare feet. He walks slowly toward Hakkai, arms held loose at his sides. You won't hurt me is what he thinks. It doesn't calm the pounding of his heart.
He stops an arm's length away, close enough to touch. Hakkai still hasn't moved. His expression is unreadable, a little wild, a little... something. Gojyo can't put a name to it, but it makes Hakkai look more than slightly unreal. His eyes stay locked on Gojyo. He seems to be waiting.
You're beautiful, Gojyo wants to say. You have to know that. You have to see.
"Go back inside," Hakkai whispers, low and too calm, but his eyes say Stay.
"Too late," says Gojyo, "I'm already up. Won't be able to sleep now, anyway." The wind picks up around him, snatching at his words. His mouth feels dry.
Hakkai tilts his head slowly, eyes narrowing. It's an eerie gesture, not human at all, like he's looking past Gojyo's face and right into his skull, seeing the meat and blood and bone. Gojyo's pulse kicks up another three notches, but he stands his ground. You won't hurt me.
"I've been going out," Hakkai says. His voice is still calm, almost hypnotic now, like he could reel Gojyo in with just the sound of it. "Every night. I wanted to see what it would feel like."
"And?" Gojyo says. Over Hakkai's shoulder, the moon sinks lower toward the trees.
Hakkai doesn't answer for a long time. He just looks at Gojyo, and the heat of his stare ought to burn. Gojyo can practically feel it on his skin, a physical sensation, and it makes him want to touch himself to see if he can feel it there, if it leaves a trace.
Hakkai reaches out, like he's going to caress Gojyo's cheek. His claws hover in the air without touching.
"Is this really what I am?" he breathes. His eyes are unfocused, like he's seeing something Gojyo can't. "Is it, Gojyo?"
Gojyo swallows hard, and then leans forward, into Hakkai's touch. Claws tangle in his hair. Hakkai's palm rests against his scars, warm and dry and shaking, just a tiny bit.
"Yeah," he says, at last. There's a lump in his throat, like he wants to cry. "This is you, Hakkai. And this is me."
Hakkai takes in a quick breath, eyes widening slightly. Gojyo knows that one is green and that one is pale yellow, but the careless moonlight washes them both silvery. He lifts his hand and lays it atop of Hakkai's, holding him there. "This is us," he says, because it needs to be said, finally.
"Oh," says Hakkai, sounding stricken. His hand shakes harder. "Oh."
Gojyo closes his eyes and just leans into Hakkai's touch. "Yeah," he says. "Hakkai."
Hakkai steps in close then, pulling Gojyo forward until there's no space between. His other hand tangles in Gojyo's hair and he buries his face in Gojyo's neck. His lips move, sliding across Gojyo's skin as he murmurs his name, over and over and over again, voice broken and yearning and terrified and strong.
The moon slips out of sight, lost in the darkness of the trees.