Title: Temper Tantrum
Series: Saiyuki
Rating/Pairing: M/85
AN: Right after the Kami-sama arc. Hakkai lays down the law.
Lyrics:
"Cold (But I'm Still Here)"
Hello, I'm your martyr, will you be my gangster
can you feel my trigger hand, moving further down your back
when you hide, hide inside that body
but just remember that when I touch you
the more you shake, the more you give away
cold, but I'm still here, blind, 'cause I'm so blind, say never
we're far from comfortable this time
cold, now we're so cold, mine, and you're not mine, say never
we're far from obvious this time
wait, another minute here, time will kill us after all
now can you feel its second hand wrapped around your neck
so fall into my eyes and fall into my lies
but don't you forget
the more you turn away, the more I want you to stay
cold, but I'm still here, blind, 'cause I'm so blind, say never
we're far from comfortable this time
cold, now we're so cold, mine, and you're not mine, say never
we're far from obvious this time
you're so endearing, you're so beautiful,
well I don't look like they do, and I don't love like they do
but I don't hate like they do
am I ever on your mind?
cold, but I'm still here, blind, 'cause I'm so blind, say never
we're far from comfortable this time
cold, now we're so cold, mine, and you're not mine, say never
we're far from obvious this time
COLD, you broke me from the very first night
I'd love you 'til the day that I die
I'm far too comfortable this time
COLD, I loved you from the very first night
you broke me 'til the day that I die
I'm far too obvious this time
I'd never felt like slapping someone before. I'd felt like killing…I'd felt like punching…but I hadn't felt like slapping. There's a fine line between the three, killing, well, that's easy after a while, you just stop thinking and eventually you find yourself alone amidst a sea of broken burgundy stained dolls. Punching, when anger bubbles up so hard all you can do is lash out to keep from gnashing your own knuckles between your teeth and letting the blood pool stickily between your lips. But slapping…slapping is the finest level of an atomic burst of frustration that comes up on you like a flash flood, hot and angry and uncontrollable in its intensity to make someone else's flesh burn with the sharp sting of nails breaking flesh, raking down across a cheek and over lips left swollen and split, thin wells of vermillion fire trickling over the hurt in your own heart and soul.
I never thought I'd ever feel like doing that to someone. Especially not you. Definitely not you. Because for all the immaturity and self-debasement and condescending mire you kept yourself wallowing in, you'd always been conscientious of others. You'd leave the trash for weeks, but eventually you'd take it out. You'd fight for every scrap of food, and always let him have the last dumpling. Hell, you'd even sacrifice your last smoke to keep the perpetual frown just this side of homicidal.
But this…in the end you walk away and leave. You do the one thing you always asked me not to and I'm not supposed to want to wring your neck for it?! I'm supposed to just sit here and smile and place your beer in front of you and make some stupid comment about the proper disposal techniques for used cigarettes like nothing happened and you didn't break my heart and shatter my fragile existence that is so damn tied to you I can't see myself half the time without you in the picture and God Dammit why am I not allowed to scream and curse and bitch and rant and throw a fucking temper tantrum like the rest of you!? Why!?
*breathe*
And in the end, after all the bandages are wrapped, tightly, I close the door and leave the others to their own thoughts and walk to your side. The two of us alone in the moonlight surrounded by blood and pain and fear and guilt and smoke and I reach out, pale fingers skimming through crimson hair that glows like banked coals in a fire and grip the ends just a bit too hard before collapsing beside you.
There's a moment of panic in your eyes, like you think I might have really died a bit and I have, at your loss from me even this much, I have. With my eyes closed I breathe deeply, the scent of Hi-Lights and blood washing over me before I give in and taketaketake what I need to show me that you really are still here and alive and I don't care anymore if someone sees because for once, if only once, I will make you understand your life is not your own. It's mine and yours and ours and I will be damned if I let you or anyone else take it away from me again.
The look of startlement in those red, red eyes fading away to dawning comprehension almost makes me chuckle. I can just about see the 'oh' forming in your mind as you relax into me and as I push you none-to-gently from your chair, the hard, hard floor coming up so much faster than I imagined I know that I don't care about the pain and blood and fear and guilt, I just want. So let me have. Please God, let me have if only for the night, but I know I'll never be able to give you up, not now, not ever. I'll kill to keep you and that doesn't necessarily mean someone else. You brought me in out of the rain and showed me what warmth and sunlight and fire were and if you think I'll lay down and let it all be ripped from my fingers like fading flowers and shifting sands you've got another thing coming.
But there are fingers looping in my bandages and pulling me closer and marking me as surely as I'm marking you and maybe, maybe, I won't have to show you just how serious I am about the keeping you part. Maybe, if I'm lucky for once, you'll want to be kept by me. Maybe.
I can only pray. For both our sakes.
Fin.