A/N: I generally prefer to keep my notes at the bottom of the chapter, but this is a special piece of work for me written for a special person and I wanted to introduce it here and now rather than after.
This fic is dedicated to my wonderful best friend whose birthday was a few weeks ago - it's technically a very late birthday gift to her. Way back when, this fic idea came about based on an entirely different project that I hope to one day get to. The two are technically in the same universe. And so we had this awesome idea and we stumbled into a bunch of fan art for this pair, which is a rabbit hole that I highly recommend going down, and one thing led to another and I had this entire fucking one-shot planned out. It sat planned for close to a year, I think.
And then came my lovely wife's birthday and I figured how better to celebrate it than writing our beloved gay boys?
So, this one's for her. To my wife. To a year and a half of making everybody think we're lesbian lovers, and to the many more we'll spend doing the same going forward.
You were the first to say,
that we're not okay.
In amongst the cluster of genin, Hayate stands, using Ibiki as a meat shield as subtly as he can.
He's normally fine with crowds. He's not a fan of them, but he can manage. Today, though, the crowd of young ninja is a bit much for him, supercharged with the nerves of their upcoming task, the first part of the Chunin Exams. So he lets Ibiki take the brunt of the sensory input for him, which Ibiki does without a word of complaint like a true teammate.
Hayate doesn't know if he's ready for all of this. Choza was adamant that all three of them are, but he can't help but worry. Chunin Exams can be deadly—he knew somebody who died in them, a kid who graduated a year before him and was taken out during the third task. That could be him. It probably won't, but it could be.
A hand grabs at the sleeve of his shirt and Hayate jumps a full foot in the air. Ibiki, his hand surreptitiously fisted in the fabric of Hayate's sleeve, doesn't even spare him a glance as he drags Hayate through the rest of the crowd towards a vaguely familiar group of Konoha genin.
"Greetings!" one of them shouts as they near. "Wonderful Comrades!"
"Hello," another says.
The boy on the far left gives them a lazy wave of his hand, a senbon in the corner of his mouth. "Yo."
"Hey," Ibiki says.
"Ibiki, Tokara," senbon boy says. He nods at Hayate. "This's your teammate, yeah?"
"Yeah," Tokara says. "This is Hayate."
The boy with a bowl cut and impressively bushy eyebrows bows to Hayate. Of the three, this is the one he can recognize. Gai Maito, the taijutsu prodigy that burned his way through four levels at the Academy while Hayate was in his last year. Hayate hasn't seen much of him since he graduated a couple of years ago.
"What a pleasure to make your acquaintance!" Gai cries. "I am Gai Maito!"
"Genma Shiranui," senbon boy says.
"Ebisu," the last one says, looking more annoyed than anything else.
"Hi," Hayate says. "I'm Hayate Gekko."
Genma clicks his teeth against his senbon. "Cool."
And then the conversation slips into the topic of the upcoming exams.
Hayate half listens, but mostly, he's watching Genma. He doesn't think he's ever seen somebody use a senbon as a toothpick before. Isn't that bad for his teeth? Does he ever prick his tongue on it? Can he spit it at somebody? And, if he can spit it at somebody, how accurate is he?
Genma catches him staring and raises an eyebrow. Hayate flushes bright red, his gaze jumping down to his feet, and he swears he hears a chuckle.
But that doesn't stop him from staring again the second Genma rejoins the conversation.
Hayate stares off into the crackling fire, barely even conscious of the way the flame's heat licks at his skin.
It's the dead of night—way past lights out. There's nothing else visible to him outside of the campfire's touch. That's how he prefers it right now. The less he sees of the camp, the easier it is to detach himself from the fact that he's in the middle of a war zone at the ripe old age of thirteen, too young to be of much use in most serious skirmishes but old enough to fully comprehend every horror played out in front of him.
He wants to go home. More than anything, he just wants to go home.
Behind him, he can hear the steady footsteps of somebody approaching, an action that he assumes is deliberate, given where he is. He doesn't look up at whoever it is as they make their way over and settle onto the log to his right.
"Didn't think you'd be up," Genma says. "You're normally one of the first in bed."
Hayate shrugs. "Yeah." His voice comes out hoarse and scratchy, and Hayate winces.
"Getting sick?"
"Nah."
"Mhm. Sure sounds like you aren't."
"M'not."
"Okay."
Neither of them has anything more to say.
It doesn't escape Hayate's notice that Genma, as well, isn't generally up this late, but he doesn't think it's his place to comment. Genma's fifteen, two years older than him—Hayate has no right to try and baby Genma.
With nothing else to do, Hayate tugs at the katana strapped to his waist. The blade slips out of its guard with a low swish. He uses his other hand to fish through one of the pouches on his thigh for the cloth and whetstone he always keeps on hand.
Hayate angles the pristine blade in front of him, the firelight dancing against its surface. He feels like the sight should be beautiful, but to him, all it makes him think of is that time he saw a single fire jutsu obliterate half a squad of ninja.
He starts to sharpen the blade in earnest. The dull clank of metal-on-stone holds familiarity, and it gives him some comfort.
Genma busies himself as well, pulling out some string to tinker with. Hayate has no idea what he's doing at first, and then he recognizes it.
"Cat's cradle?" he asks, unable to help it.
"Yep."
It's a game they were taught in the Academy during their first year to improve finger coordination and keep them busy. He can still remember most of the less complicated patterns.
"It helps, ya kno?" Genma says. "Just… having something to do with my hands."
"Yeah, I know."
Genma cracks a grin. "Wanna play?"
"No than—" Hayate is cut off mid-sentence by a cough.
It starts with just the one, but Hayate can feel it in his chest, already, that there'll be many more to follow. He fumbles with the blade and whetstone, haphazardly setting them at his feet. He hates putting them on the ground but he doesn't have time to think of anything else before he's keeled over, his chest rattling with each breath he struggles to take in, tears in his eyes.
The pain of the coughing attacks doesn't phase him anymore. It's a sharp pain, right behind his sternum, but he's grown used to that over the years. What still gets him is the feeling of not being able to breathe.
One of his hands clutches at his shirt and the other braces against his knee as he rides it out. At some point, he can feel Genma rubbing awkward circles into his back, muttering something that Hayate can't hear over the blood pounding in his ears—he didn't even see Genma sit down.
"Sorry," Hayate wheezes out, once the coughs start to die down.
Genma scoffs. He seems to be trying to look casual, but there's an air of discomfort in his movements as he shuffles away from Hayate. "What, for almost coughing up a lung? Why're you sorry for that?"
Hayate manages a smile at that. It turns into a wince as the tightness in his chest squeezes another cough out of him.
"Should I uh… get a medic?" Genma asks.
"No," Hayate mumbles. He forces himself to straighten. "No, it's fine, honest."
"Uh huh."
"Seriously, I'm used to it. I don't need a medic. They've got real patients to heal."
He knows that Genma can't argue with that. There are people in the medic tents who won't make it through the night; the medics have their hands full. The last thing Hayate wants to do is bother them with something that isn't life-threatening. Besides, he doubts the medics could do much—if nobody in the village could figure out how to teach his lungs how to work properly, he doubts that anybody here can, either.
"That happen a lot?" Genma asks.
Hayate shrugs. "Sorta. It's gotten a bit worse, but…" Not knowing what else to say, he shrugs again.
"Shitty."
"Yeah."
The two of them pick up their previous activities again, Genma staying in his spot next to Hayate. He's not going to complain—Hayate finds the warmth of another body beside his comforting.
Around them, the bar is full of raucous ninja, allowed to drink away their troubles for the first time in years without a war to wake up to.
Honestly, Hayate's not sure what he's doing here. He's not a drinker. At fourteen years old, it's only legal for him—and the handful of other kids loitering around that graduated in his year—because of the hitai-ate wrapped around his head. That doesn't stop him from nursing a cup of something Genma shoved into his hands, but really, he'd rather be enjoying his apartment in peace.
His eyes slide over to the person sitting in the chair beside him.
Genma. Oh, yeah. That's what he's doing here.
They spent the majority of their time in Kusagakure together, living in the same base camp and fighting in the same squads. It seemed natural that they'd keep spending time together now that they're back in the village.
That thought puts a weird, fuzzy feeling in Hayate's chest.
He blows it off as being the alcohol.
The two of them get visitors on and off for most of the night. Random people stop by and clap them on the back—some Hayate can recognize, but most are complete strangers making their rounds of the bar. He does his best to smile and stay polite through it all. Though, he doesn't mind much when their genin teams drop by.
Hayate's comes first. Even celebrating, Ibiki and Tokara are straight-laced as can be, both drinking without going to the point where they're actually drunk. They have a short conversation with Hayate before they head home for the night. It's a pleasant, calm visit.
Gai and Ebisu are a whole other story.
They drop by late in the evening, sloshed, to offer their congratulations to Genma for getting his promotion to special jonin in the form of another drink, which Genma accepts. Then they skip off to partake in more drunken shenanigans, shouting the whole way.
True to form, Hayate and Genma mirror their genin teams: by the end of the night, Hayate's only a bit buzzed while Genma's drunk himself into an overjoyed, boneless heap, that can hardly hold his own head up.
Hayate hunts for Raidou in the crowd. If anybody can babysit a drunk Genma, it's his best friend Raidou, the person most use to dealing with him when he's like this. Hayate gets halfway through the bar patrons before he remembers that Raidou left with a guy over an hour ago, and will be far too occupied with certain other things to help out.
Wonderful.
"Alright, man," Hayate huffs. He pushes his chair back from the bar top and hops down. "Time to get you to bed."
"Nu… nuu…"
"Genma."
"Dun… I dun wanna…"
"Genma."
"Hay—" a hiccup, "Hayate."
The man behind the bar looks distinctly amused.
Hayate huffs. "Come on," he says. "Aren't you tired?"
"Mmmm…"
"Was that a yes?"
"Mm… mhm."
"Okay."
Hayate slips Genma's arm over his shoulder and hauls the lanky teenage boy out of his seat with a grunt. Genma makes literally no attempt to help. Hayate staggers a bit under the weight and hurriedly wraps his own arm around Genma's waist to get a better grip, suddenly lightheaded.
What did he do to deserve this?
"Genma," Hayate groans. "Can you please try and walk?"
"No."
"Please?"
Genma leans his head on Hayate's shoulder. "Yur so warm."
Hayate can feel the heat rise into his cheeks and the warmth in his chest expand.
It's just the drink, he thinks. That's all.
A couple of guys in the back of the bar whistle at them, and a girl that sounds suspiciously like Anko Mitarashi shouts, "Get a room!"
Hayate lets go of Genma's arm around his shoulder just long enough to flip them off. The sound of laughter follows them out the door.
The evening air is cold enough to chase the alcohol from Hayate's system, the air sharp against his skin. He glances up at the moon—roughly three in the morning. Much later than he'd expected to stay out when he left his apartment.
Despite the time, the streets around them are full of life. Everybody is out in full force to celebrate the end of the war. Food trucks line the streets and restaurants have their doors wide open, their hours pushed back to accommodate, and people wander through in their formal attire as if at a festival. He notices that most of the people outside are dressed in kimono and have a sweet treat in hand, completely sober. They also all seem to be civilians, while the ninja have gravitated towards the bars. It's fitting, to him.
Genma mumbles something and giggles to himself, pulling Hayate back to reality. He shifts Genma's position and heads off in the direction of Genma's apartment.
"You're gonna have to give me some direction," Hayate says. "I don't know exactly where your apartment is."
"Nu-uh."
"Yes huh."
"Wanna go back with ya," Genma says.
Hayate chokes on air. "What?"
"Mmmmmm…"
"You—help me out, here!"
"Mmmmmmmmmm…"
"Where's your house, Genma?"
Genma sticks his tongue out at Hayate.
He's fighting against a toddler. A very deadly, very attractive, toddler.
Hayate trips over his own feet at the second half of that thought but forces himself to keep going forward.
It's the alcohol. Just ignore it.
"Are you seriously not going to tell me where you live?" Hayate asks.
Once again, Genma nuzzles Hayate's neck and hums to himself.
"Fuck it," Hayate mutters.
From what basic idea he does have of where Genma lives, Hayate's place is way closer, anyways. So, with a sigh, Hayate changes their course and heads in the other direction, towards his own apartment.
.
.
It's unfair how not hungover Genma is the next day.
Sure, he seems a bit bothered by the light in Hayate's tiny kitchen, and yeah, he's a bit spacier than normal, but for the most part, Genma is unaffected by replacing half of his blood with alcohol the night before. And Hayate, a few feet away, is sprawled out on his living room couch, an arm laid over his eyes to try and block out as much light as possible. His head is pounding and his stomach is unsettled, despite barely having anything to drink last night.
Hayate peeks out from under his arm and watches Genma sit at the dingy two-person kitchen table with a bored look on his face. He can hear his mother's voice in the back of his head, prodding him to get up and be a good host.
"You hungry?" Hayate asks, projecting his voice a bit.
"Is that a serious question?" he gets in return.
Hayate makes a noise in the back of his throat, one that sounds meaningless even to his own ears. It's noon, he got eight hours of sleep, more than usual, but he's still tired. He still can't seem to get himself to stand up and leave the wonderful warmth of the sun streaming through his window.
"Want help with breakfast?" Genma asks.
"Do you want more than rice and eggs for breakfast?"
"Uh… I think so?"
"Then yeah," Hayate says. "Help would be nice."
Genma pulls himself out of his chair and meanders over to the fridge. Hayate can hear it open, and the clink of jars being moved around, but it doesn't sound like anything gets pulled out.
"Dude," Genma says. "There's… not really anything in here."
"I haven't really had the chance to shop since we got back. There's the stuff in the jars. And like I said, rice, and uh… other things."
Genma sighs, and the fridge falls shut. "Alright. Get your ass up—we're going to get food."
"What—"
"This is sad and I'm really hungry." When Hayate doesn't move to get up, Genma adds, "I probably owe you lunch, anyways, after… uh…"
"Having me drag your ass to my house, sleeping in my spare room, and puking all over my bathroom?"
"Yep."
"Yeah."
"Cool," Genma says. "Let's go."
.
.
They end up at some hole in the wall restaurant where they order more food than two people have any right to eat. Rice, grilled fish, miso soup—it's surprisingly traditional for what he expected from the restaurant, but Hayate's not complaining.
He leans back in his chair, a hand on his full stomach, and says, "Thanks for the food, man."
Genma shrugs. "No biggie."
Hayate shifts, and he can feel the tightness that's been lingering in his chest for the whole meal expand a bit. He rubs at his chest. "Doing anything today?" he asks, wanting a distraction.
"Eh, not really," Genma says. He scratches at his stubbled chin. "Probably gonna train for a bit. Wanna tag along?"
"Sure."
"Cool," he says. "I'll probably invite Gai and Ebisu, too."
"Ah."
Genma raises an eyebrow. "That alright?"
"'Course," Hayate says, wishing he could sound more enthusiastic.
"Seriously, it's not a big deal if you don't want them there."
"It's fi—" Hayate tries to smother a cough, but it manages to worm its way out of him mid-sentence. "It's fine."
Hayate wonders if it has to do with the smoke coming out of the kitchen. There's not a lot of it, so he thought it'd be fine when they first walked in. But by the time he realized the pressure in his chest was building, they'd already ordered and he didn't want to interrupt the meal just because he was a bit uncomfortable.
He's starting to regret that now.
"Uh huh," Genma says.
Hayte coughs again. He pulls out the handkerchief he always keeps in his pocket and holds it over his mouth as another harsh cough rattles his chest. More follows it, but Hayate manages to contain it to just a few coughs, rather than a full fit.
Still, he can see spots of blood on the handkerchief.
Great.
"Are you… sure that you're up for training later?" Genma asks.
Hayate hurriedly shoves it back into his pocket. "Yeah," he mumbles.
"'Kay." Genma fiddles with the senbon in the corner of his mouth, a frown taking place on his face. "You kept saying no to seeing a medic, but… war's over. Maybe you should go now?"
"I don't need a medic."
"The blood says otherwise."
Hayate rolls his eyes. "I'm fine, mom."
Genma makes a noise of disgust. "As if. That's Raidou's job."
And just like that, Genma drops the topic.
.
.
Hayate is right—he is fine.
He makes it through training without any problems, even with Gai and Ebisu joining them. Once he gets over the discomfort of training with people he isn't familiar with, Hayate finds that he enjoys the challenge the two of them present, and it seems that both of them think the same, as they invite Hayate to train with them on a regular basis. He agrees to it.
Really, he's fine. No cough can keep him from being a ninja.
Warmth.
On his skin, in his chest, everywhere. All Hayate can feel is the warmth.
He and Genma lay side by side in the dirt, chests heaving from what has now become their routine training session. Hayate glances down. Their hands are so close—there's only a hair's breadth keeping them from touching, but he doesn't dare close it. Not yet. He thinks he's reading Genma's signals right, he thinks Genma might feel the same, but he might be wrong. And that's alright.
He keeps telling himself that.
If Genma doesn't feel the same way, he'll be alright. It'll be alright.
The sun beats down on them with a vengeance. There's a couple of rocks stuck in his back. One of the muscles in his leg is twitching, and he knows that the best thing for him to do after a workout is get up and walk around rather than stay stationary.
But right now, no force alive could make Hayate move an inch.
The Kyuubi Attack breaks a lot of things.
The village is in shambles. Their Hokage and their jinchuuriki are killed. Their ranks are broken. And so, so many families are shattered.
Hayate's isn't one of them—his mother was gone long before the attack, so that was a non-issue, and his father is evacuated with the other civilians in time. Hayate doesn't have words to express how grateful he is for this, even if their relationship is rocky at the best of times.
But Genma… he's not so lucky. He loses three pieces of his heart.
His mother and sister die in the attack, and his mentor, Minato, who Genma was tasked with protecting, is killed while Genma is forcibly sidelined.
Nobody is doing well after the Kyuubi Attack, but from what Hayate's seen, few are doing quite as badly as Genma is.
The Kyuubi Attack breaks a lot of things.
But above all else, it breaks Konoha's people.
Hayate spends little time around the village after the attack. There's too much to do outside their broken walls. With the cost of repairs slowly stacking up, Konoha can't afford to have any of her ninja sitting idle, and so from genin to jonin, all hands are on deck.
He can feel the months of continuous missions running him ragged.
Rest is important for him. His body needs more time than most to recuperate, especially when he's being as active as heavy mission work requires him to be. But doing his work for the village is more important, right now, so he pushes on. He'll have plenty of time to rest and let his body bounce back once Konoha is back on her feet.
Hayate stretches his arms above his head, standing in front of the mission board along with a cluster of other ninjas.
Somebody to his left nudges him in the side. "What're you thinking of taking, kid?"
He glances over at the tall blonde woman standing beside him. She's got a flak jacket on but no jonin blues—a chunin.
Hayate taps one of the postings closest to him. "This one, I think."
"A B-rank assassination mission?" she asks.
"Sure," he says.
"Ballsy," she says. She grabs at a C-rank from one of the far corners of the board and heads off towards the desk chunin. "Well, don't go getting yourself killed, squirt."
Hayate rolls his eyes and grabs his own mission notice, walking off towards the chunin as well.
There's a small line in front of the desk. Hayate takes his place in it and watches the handful of chunin scramble around, desperately trying to catalogue the completed missions and mark the assigned ones. He feels bad for them. He remembers doing this work in the brief time between receiving his chunin vest and being shipped off to the war front, and he hated every second of it.
He gets up to the front of the line and one of the chunin waves him over.
"Name, number, and rank," the chunin says, holding her hand out for the posting.
"Hayate Gekko, 45992, special jonin."
She pushes her chair back and rummages through one of the filing cabinets. When she rolls back to him, she's got a scroll clutched in her hand that she tosses to him.
"You're set to go," she says. "Next!"
Hayate ambles out of the way, already unrolling the scroll so he can read it as he walks.
He only makes it a few steps before he bumps into somebody. The contact makes him tip forward, but a hand catches his shoulder and steadies him before he can fall flat on his face.
"All good, there?"
Hayate's gaze snaps up at the familiar voice, heat rising to his face. "Uh… hi, Genma."
Genma gives him a lazy wave. "Yo."
"Sorry," Hayate mumbles. He tries to shove down the flush.
"No problem." Genma nods at the scroll. "What d'ya take?"
"B-rank assassination mission in Wind," Hayate says. "Should only take a couple weeks."
"Nice. Lookin' for something like that, too."
"Yeah."
It's the first time Hayate's seen him since the week following the Kyuubi attack, and Genma doesn't look much better now than he did then. There are deep rings under his eyes, his skin is pale, his clothes and hair are rumpled—Hayate can't judge, since he looks as bad, if not worse than Genma, but it's impossible to miss.
"Well," Genma says, already walking away, "it was good seein—"
"Hey, uh. Before you go."
Genma stops. "Yeah?"
Hayate bites his bottom lip, hard. He half regrets having spoken up. It's done, though, so he takes a breath and says, "Wanna meet for dinner? It's been a few months since I've seen you. Good to catch up, and stuff, since we… ya kno… might not catch each other for a while."
It looks like Genma's about to say no. Hayate can see the word on the tip of his tongue, and he braces himself for the rejection.
Instead, Genma says, "Alright. I'll go grab my mission scroll, then we can go find somewhere."
Hayate's cracked lips quirk into a grin. "Awesome."
.
.
They end up going to dinner and hanging out for a few hours, lost in conversation. Then dinner turns into drinks, and after a few hours, the two of them find themselves in exactly the same position as they were after the war, side by side at the bar top.
Except they're both drunk this time.
If he's being honest, Hayate doesn't like the feeling much. The loss of control. The vulnerability. He doubts he'll ever do this to himself again.
He doesn't regret that it's given him the chance to be around an unguarded Genma, though.
Genma sets his glass down on the wood, sloshing its contents over the brim with the force of it. "Soo… Wind Country, eh?"
"Y—yeah," Hayate answers, fighting to keep his voice understandable. "Haven't been back since… it ended."
"It'll be fun," Genma says. "Hot air. Sand in your ass. A blast."
"Yep. Where are you going?"
"Earth Country." Genma makes a face, his distaste clear. "Gotta… get ridda some nuisances. Or sm'thn."
"Fun."
"I hope so," Genma says. "I cud do wit' a… good time."
"Killing people," Hayate says. He takes a swig from his glass and immediately regrets it, a scowl twisting his features. "Great fun."
Genma clinks his glass against Hayate's. "Gotta be."
Through the haze of alcohol, it occurs to Hayate that at fifteen and seventeen, they already sound like all of the grizzled old veterans running around.
It occurs to him that now, they are veterans.
He takes another sip.
"Well," Hayate mumbles. "Needta… need to get your kicks somehow."
Genma hums. He leans on the bar top and rests his head on his folded arm. "You got other ideas?"
"Plenty."
"Like?"
Hayate notes the mischievous grin on Genma's face. When Genma notices him looking, he wiggles his eyebrows, his grin widening.
"What?" Hayate asks.
Genma grabs Hayate's hand and twines their fingers. "Likeee?"
All of the blood rushes to Hayate's cheeks, and he knows that he can't blame it on the alcohol. "Kn—knock it off, you perv…"
Genma seems to sober up a bit. He stares at their joined hands, then shifts his gaze to Hayate's face. His features neutral out—a sure sign that he's thinking about something. "This bother you?" he asks.
"Nope," Hayate says, wincing at how high pitched his voice is.
"Mmm…" Genma presses his lips to the back of Hayate's hand. "How 'bout that?"
"Uh… no?"
Genma sits up straight. He tugs on Hayate's arm, and Hayate lets himself be pulled forward. He thinks he knows where this is going. No, he knows where this is going; there's only one place that this could be going.
A pair of lips are pressed against his. The kiss is sloppy, and for half of a second Hayate is in bliss. It's not his first kiss, nor the best kiss, but for what it is, what it stands for, it's perfectly fine because even if he never fully acknowledged it, he's wanted this for months.
But he only lets it last for half a second before he pushes Genma away and fervently shakes his head. "N—no, I'm…"
Genma blinks. He pulls back, gives Hayate some space. "Oh… sorry. Are you not—"
"No!" Hayate says, louder than he meant to. A couple of heads turn their way. "No," he says again in a softer tone. "It's not… I want to… but it… we're both drunk."
"That we are."
"When we're sober," Hayate mumbles.
He can see from the way Genma's expression has already started to shut down that there isn't going to be another chance when they're sober. He hates the disappointment that floods him at this realization, but he knows full well that neither of them is in any condition to consent properly. He'd regret it if he let things go further. Yet, right here, right now, he feels a burning lump of regret in his stomach, and he hates it.
Hayate grabs his drink and downs the rest of it.
.
.
"Sorry about last night."
"... sorry?"
"It was a drunken mistake."
"A mistake. Right."
"It won't happen again. I promise."
"Yeah. I… yeah."
"I gotta go. Later, man."
"Bye, Genma."
.
.
Hayate doesn't feel the burn of the rejection—he doesn't have any right to. It's his own fault, isn't it? He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up in the first place. He never had any chance with Genma.
Genma's older, stronger, more social. Of course, Genma would only kiss him when he's drunk. There's no other reason for Genma to bother with Hayate when he can have anybody that he wants. Hayate was shooting so far out of his league and he's such an idiot for ever thinking that there might be something there.
He doesn't want to make that mistake again.
A/N: Also, ha, wanted to mention that this is part 1 of 5, and I've already written all of part 2 and a lot of part 3. This is a very finite piece of work and I do plan on having all of it uploaded by the middle of november.