Btw I dislike writing dialogue so there ain't any but didn't they say that Gintoki and Hijikata's bond was something that didn't need words or is that just a head-canon + I'm sorry for the lack of grammatical correction.

Disclaimer: Gintama ain't mine and we all know that.


It was like love but not quite. Too much was missing; there was no affection nor gentleness yet it was fitting somehow.

Hate. Ah yes, the sole word that connected them, of course violence existed too. Well, that's not the point.

But maybe, in the darkest hour, while Gintoki kissed him hard, hard enough for the message to jolt through his bones, I hate you asshole, maybe there was room for a different kind of hate. The kind of hate that was spelt: L.O.V.E and existed for them in the musky scent of cigarettes and sweat. Hijikata tried desperately to find that hate, but he touched Gintoki's body, slowly dragging his shaking fingers across his back, and found no such word. It was tragic really. He wanted to yell and cry "Why can't you love me?" but he was Hijikata Toshiro. He was not allowed to show such weakness when there was so much that could be lost. When Gintoki could be lost. He was like fire, unobtainable, and if you held him, being burnt was inevitable.

There were phosphenes in the back of his eyes and he blinked them away, fast. If this love-hate relationship was fleeting, he wanted to see Gintoki in his pathetic entirety, every second he was alive. Gintoki kissed him again and the sadistic feeling felt so good, pounding hard against his skull and he couldn't resist a sigh.

Gintoki was his drug, he decided. An obsessive addiction more killing than cigarettes and more addictive than mayonnaise. He was so poisonous but he couldn't stop loving him. It was destroying him already, twisting through his lungs, robbing him of his breath, one heart beat at a time.

Gintoki moaned softly with his head back, careful not to wake Kagura who was surely nearby, and Hijikata licked at the blood on his neck. The look on his face was surely disgust, but he would never know entirely, the dark hid many things. He smiled slowly, it was how he dealt with pain, but honestly it wasn't all that bad to be hurt by the man that could never be his. After all, he was holding a bleeding and naked and oh so vulnerable Gintoki in his arms. It would be too easy to put his sword through his chest, count to three and kill himself but he had lives to protect and it wasn't that easy to just let it all go. So instead, he opted to moan into Gintoki's neck and scream internally at the misfortunes and fortunes of knowing the man, Sakata Gintoki.

The night left traces of red and blue and purple and the only coherent thought, whispered along his ears as the sun came up and another day of pretending everything was fine, began.

Kill me Gintoki.


Ahh I don't know what to say, this doesn't make any sense and I blame it on an all nighter. But I don't care.

Please leave a review for the poor kid writing this absolute bullshit.