Title: Safety in Numbers
Rating: T
Pairing: 58
Word Count: 859
Summary/AN: Got the idea from this picture.
"Gojyo?" Hakkai queried, voice raised in concern. He'd been looking for his roommate for the better part of an hour, but so far nothing; it was starting to make him nervous.
"Perhaps the bar then?" He mused, grabbing his keys from the kitchen table and practically sprinting from the house.
Gojyo watched from behind the thin sheet and sighed. He hated deceiving Hakkai like this, but he also didn't want to explain why a grown man was crouched under the dining room table like a six year-old looking at old photos.
Last week had been Spring Cleaning Week, according to Hakkai, so they'd spent the entire weekend doing just that, pulling each room apart and cleaning until Gojyo could have eaten off the floor, had Hakkai not killed him for doing just that, of course. They'd started on the bathroom and then the bedroom, living room and finally kitchen. He thought it'd stopped there, but was informed that the garden and front yard needed sprucing up as well. He about hung himself when Hakkai mentioned the words 'house' and 'paint' in the same sentence, followed quickly with the scarier words 'Gojyo' and 'please'.
In all the chaos though he'd unearth an old book wrapped up in oil cloth he didn't remember owning. Curiosity getting the better of him, he'd stashed the book for looking through later. Grinning like a cheeky kid he hummed under his breath. Now was later.
The first few pages were scenery, buildings made of stone with colorful glass and lots of kids running around, the sunlight filtering through to give them an unearthly appearance; to fuzz out the harsh reality that the kids didn't wear shoes and their clothes didn't fit properly, the kind of look perfected by second-hand shops and donations by the guilty feeling. They seemed happy, but in the way looking at photographs did, kinda sad and disconnected.
The second batch he went through were of another building, large, impossibly large, with columns and the air of knowledge around it, clinging to it like a second skin. There were people walking around, students he thought, backpacks and blankets stretched out on the lawn, reading to each other, talking, laughing, maybe that's what made the picture lighter looking, like the photographer was happier…content.
Turning the page he stopped short, almost banging his head in an attempt to sit up straighter, because now he knew whose book this was and he felt like he was spying.
"Hakkai…" he breathed looking hard at the picture.
A younger Hakkai, yeah, but still his room mate. Well, maybe not. This one was laughing, his arms wrapped around a pretty girl with long brown hair hanging in a loose braid flung carelessly over her shoulder. They were sitting in a field of flowers and clover, red and pale pink with yellow poppies sprouting up here and there in a cacophony of riotous color. Splashes of sunshine illuminating the twin pairs of lake green eyes like someone had gone in and attached tiny jewels to the photo.
"Kanan." He murmured and then desperately regretted it.
"Gojyo. Give me the book please." He hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard the keys in the lock or the squeak of Hakkai's sneakers on the freshly mopped floor. He hadn't felt the change in the room until it was too late. He heard the catch in Hakkai's voice though. Heard the unshed tears and mounting fury hiding in the pleasant voice above him. He heard it all and ignored them completely.
"No. Come here." Reaching up he grabbed hold of the edge of Hakkai's jacket and tugged emphatically, the force almost toppling the green-eyed healer.
Sagging to the floor he glanced wearily over the book splayed out in front of Gojyo's crossed legs. Sighing dejectedly he crawled under the table.
"Gojyo, I'm not ready to look at that yet."
"But I am. So show me, 'Kai. Show me what you can't show yourself."
Hakkai bowed his head, dropping his chin to his chest and leaning heavily against Gojyo's shoulder. Taking a ragged breath he closed his eyes and reached out a tentative finger, slowly flipping back to the front of the book. There was Gojyo's warm hand on his, a gentle squeeze to remind him he wasn't alone, and then the words came tumbling out as they turned pages upon pages of memories; years floating past them in muted silence.
They sat like that for hours, two grown men under a table looking at memories, sharing pasts that neither really wanted to remember…or forget. More importantly, they were sharing their own souls, soft murmurs of comments and companionable silences, knowing glances and gentle touches when the memories came back a little to clear and strong. It was an unusual way to spend an evening, but he liked it none-the-less. It breathed of being home.
Warm tears and tender smiles as lips pressed against his temple meant home. Hakkai meant home and he couldn't have asked for a better place to return to.
Fin.