Title: Erase

Fandom: Saiyuki

Pairing: pre-85

Theme: #9 footprints

Summary: tentatively post-journey.

He hadn't known exactly how much room there was in the small house they'd bought (which was practically all the journey had been good for aside from several scars, a ton of spare cash and a bunch of boring speeches by mummified monks) until he realised how few of Hakkai's things he saw around the place.

Shirts ironed, like Gojyo's were, neat where his were crinkled, folded tiny and occupying a fraction of the space Gojyo's clothes did, and they owned nearly the same number for all of Gojyo's preening. Razor and toothbrush and hairbrush placed on the high shelf, concealed by the mirror, discreet, above eye level. Laundry hung out to dry only when Gojyo was out – in the hamper tucked away under the bed when Gojyo slept, neatly folded and replaced on their shelves by the time he returned from his evening stroll. Floor always swept, the kitchen counters always pristine. Bookshelves always organised and dusted, as if he never picked one out or read them, despite the fact that Gojyo had begun to suspect that he was glued to them, the way he seemed to be buried in one every time he looked.

It was as if the housework existed in a separate time from his life, as if some invisible army of servants were maintaining the house while he looked elsewhere.

And Hakkai, Hakkai dodged him in exactly the same way. Cooking, or teaching (he'd found himself a part-time job tutoring the town's children at the library), or reading something, or asleep before Gojyo could quite realise that he'd made the transition from discreetly clearing up to discreetly passed out.

It went on for weeks and weeks, until Gojyo finally got sick of it.

The breaking point came after a short stroll together on a hot, muggy day, the ground slushy and muddy from the previous day's summer shower. Gojyo came out of the shower to find Hakkai meticulously wiping their footprints off the floor, leaving clean white tile in his wake, and a confusing mix of worry, fear and sheer fury roiled through him.

Trust him to make himself invisible. Trust him to pretend like he didn't exist, like Gojyo didn't exist, to clean away every trace of his own existence so Gojyo wouldn't have to act like he was, heaven forbid, sharing his house with someone else.

He probably hadn't wanted to come back with him, either. After all, Gojyo hadn't even asked him. He'd thought out a hundred ways to ask, and finally, in exasperation, settled for simply loading both their bags onto Jeep the day the ceremonies ended, dragging him out of his room and telling him gruffly to get a move on. And Hakkai had just smiled and followed him, and that had been okay at the time, but not now.

Trust him to be here out of some twisted sense of gratitude. You saved my life, so I'll clean your house until you kick me out.

What more could a guy want.

'I didn't ask for a damn housewife,' was what made it out of his mouth, and he had the pleasure of taking Hakkai enough off-guard that those pretty eyes widened.

'Excuse me?'

The towel wrapping his hair slid down. Gojyo ripped it off, threw it on the chair, where it left a large wet stain on the wood. 'There. That's messy. That doesn't fit in your neat little scheme of where things should be in this house, right? And you know what? I don't care.'

Hakkai's eyes went even wider, and then something flickered across his face too quickly for him to read it. 'I apologise, Gojyo,' he said, poised again. 'I should have realised that I was making you uncomfortable with my…habits.'

That did it. That absolutely did it.

It should have made him furious, it did make him want to grab Hakkai's shoulders and shake him and scream at him, but all he did was sit down weakly in the chair. 'Do you even want to be here?' he asked, that sudden spike of emotion vanishing as quickly as it had come.

'Gojyo?'

'Do you even want any of this?'

Hakkai remained poised, but that flicker of something lurked deep in his eyes. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

'To be here,' Gojyo clarified, feeling sick.

Hakkai smiled, the smile he used as shield, mask and attack all in one. 'Well, of course. Someone has to take out the garbage.'

'Yeah well you don't act like it!' Gojyo yelled, out of the chair and in Hakkai's face before he was quite aware of moving. 'I don't even know where you are these days, you're always running from me and you clean everything up, it's like you're trying to tell me you're not here and you don't wanna be…' and now he had grabbed Hakkai's shoulders, and what he'd wanted to make a demand had turned into a plea. 'Don't you…want to be…here?'

Hakkai froze under his hands, still and shocked, curling in on himself like a small, frightened animal, and the panic was stark in his eyes before he averted them. With a start, Gojyo realised how hard he was digging into the other man's shoulderblades, and loosened his grip. A flood of shame washed over him, and he was going to let go entirely, let go, go lock himself in his (preternaturally clean) room forever maybe, or just until Hakkai forgave him and didn't do his stupid vanishing act and just stayed – when Hakkai's hands came up to trap his and lower them and not let go.

'I think,' he said shakily, 'that we've both misunderstood something here.'

'No, really?' Gojyo spat and tried to free himself.

Hakkai was the stronger of the two, though he rarely asserted himself, and Gojyo gave up his attempt, glowering. 'I want to be here, Gojyo,' he said quietly, firmly.

The hands in his grip wrenched harshly again. 'Like hell you do,' Gojyo said and twisted, freeing his left hand and grabbing a fistful of Hakkai's shirt.

'Gojyo, please, listen. I…I was just…you seemed to want some space, so I gave it to you. And I thought I was helping you, I truly did. I didn't realise I…'

'Space?' Gojyo said incredulously. 'Space?'

'Well, you seemed out of sorts all through the ceremonies, and when you didn't seem happier after we came back I thought you might…' Hakkai trailed off. 'I was wrong, wasn't I?'

Gojyo let his head sink forward onto Hakkai's shoulder.

'…I'll take that for a no,' Hakkai said wryly.

'And the compulsive cleaning? What was up with that shit?'

'I don't know,' Hakkai said honestly. 'I think I just wanted you to think I was useful somehow. I wanted to make things easier for you.'

'Rearranging my closet every weekend is not making things easier.'

'I just wanted to be…useful somehow,' Hakkai repeated, sounding a little lost, and damn f it didn't drain his anger away. That strange restrained fear was clear in his voice this time, and Gojyo finally understood. It wasn't being useless, it was what it implied.

Oh. So that was it. That was all? The idiot.

He took in a sharp breath. 'I do need you, you know,' he said as casually as he could. 'And not for the cleaning and stuff.'

'Gojyo,' Hakkai said even softer, and slightly trembling hands slid around his neck and back, holding tight. 'I didn't…mean to…'

'I hate it when you try to make yourself invisible.'

'I wasn't trying to.'

'No, you were damn well succeeding,' Gojyo said without heat. 'Why? Why did you think I–'

'You never asked me if I wanted to come with you,' Hakkai said. 'I thought you were taking me along because I had nowhere else to go.'

'That's not true. You could have stayed at the temple.'

'But I wanted to come with you.'

'I didn't know that.'

There was a long silence in the room.

Gojyo knew how desperately Hakkai needed to need, how reflexively and deeply he attached himself. But far more than that, he needed to be –

'I'd need you,' Gojyo murmured finally, because he had to know Hakkai knew, 'even if you weren't an obsessive-compulsive freak who gets up at two in the morning to check whether the milk's curdling.'

'You know, I think that's the nicest thing I ever heard you say about me.'

'In fact,' he continued, 'I think I need you in spite of it.'

A helpless sort of chuckle rumbled in Hakkai's chest. 'Gojyo,' he said again.

'We're a pair of idiots, aren't we?'

'Idiots together, I suppose,' Hakkai said lightly, and something in his voice, it sounded like a promise.