this one was inspired by volume 5 when Gonou thanks Gojyo for having red hair because it's a reminder of his sins. I realized Gojyo and Hakkai could never get anywhere until that was resolved, so here's this lame piece to deal with that. I think I'll write another short piece thats more closely related to the volume later though. Anyways, first book ff done.
Hakkai was not Gonou, and while usually the differences were imperceptible, sometimes he would say something that made it sharply clear that they were different men.
Gojyo had not loved Gonou, but he had desired him. Gojyo always wanted pretty things, and the wanting was made stronger by the fact that Gonou was as beautiful and broken as he was.
Gojyo found himself growing to love his new roommate, the unassuming man who was somehow always there with the right thing to say, the air of calm that Gonou never had. And there were many nights where Gojyo found he was just as calm, letting the night go by without wondering why he wasn't at the bar. Sometimes Hakkai and he would sit quietly, Hakkai reading and Gojyo wandering around, playing solitaire or (oddly enough) cleaning. Some nights they would play cards or mahjong, even though Gojyo lost every hand. Some nights Hakkai would teach Gojyo to read, with infinite patience, and Gojyo never felt in any way judged by his odd teacher.
They grew closer together, comfortable with each other in ways Gojyo had never thought he would be it a man, comfortable with each other like they had known each other for years instead of months.
Gojyo used to sprawl across the couch at night, watching people walk by the window, wondering what they were doing.
Now though, Hakkai occupied one end, leaving Gojyo without room to stretch his legs, until he decided that what the hell, once you've seen a guys guts there weren't many lines between them anyway, and put his head in Hakkai's lap. After one startled moment, Hakkai had gone back to his book, absently stroking Gojyo's hair.
It rapidly became Gojyo's favorite position at night - though he hated anyone else touching his hair, Hakkai did it so softly and absently he found comfort in the touch.
"Your hair is such an apt color for you." Hakkai said softly one night.
After Gojyo had figured out Hakkai's vocabulary, the familiar panic made his heart beat faster. "Why?" he asked, even though he knew the answer and knew he didn't want to hear it (he could remember Gonou's speech about his hair clearly).
"Well," Hakkai said softly. "Red is the color of passion. And I've never met a more passionate man."
"Oh." Gojyo said, rather lamely he thought, but he really couldn't think of anything else to say. It wasn't what he had expected to hear, and he knew it wasn't the sort of thing Gonou would have said. But then, all Gonou could see was blood. Hakkai was different, and Gojyo was realizing how perfect he was.