Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki. This fact saddens me. Therefore, I take it upon myself to "borrow" the characters, without the intent of returning them, and amuse myself by playing a little game with them. I like to call this game "fanfiction". As I have little money, I ask you not to sue me. What little funding I do have goes to curing a madness called "bishiphrenia" or "fangirl-itis". Sankyu.
Title: Sometimes
Author: Impartial.Sanity
Rating: PG
Pairing: 5 + 8
A/N: Strangely enough, this story came to me while I was standing with
my brother, outside, drinking orange juice with ice. We were just
standing there, not talking, and the ice in my drink shifted, clinking.
And the idea for this appeared, without warning, in my head. Took over
a year for me to finally write it.
Warnings: None.
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Sometimes, Gojyo goes out to carouse and drink and have sex. During those sometimes, Hakkai watches him leave and knows that Gojyo is going to forget. And he is fine with that, for he would be a hypocrite if he were not. He knows they all need to forget somehow, and Gojyo has chosen to drink and dally. So Hakkai lets him go and waits to catch his drunken friend as he stumbles through the door.
Sometimes when Hakkai catches his inebriated friend Gojyo slurs words of thanks, sending hot, sour breath over Hakkai's face. Hakkai does not recoil or wrinkle his nose at the smell. Instead, he nods and softly replies that Gojyo is very welcome. He goes on to tell Gojyo that he will always catch him when he falls. The words are very sweet and very loving and very stupid to say, but it's all right because Gojyo doesn't remember them in the morning.
Sometimes, though, when Hakkai catches Gojyo, the drunken man does not thank him. Instead, bloodshot eyes focusing intensely on the sober man's face, he breaths in and presses a sloppy sour kiss against Hakkai's lips. Hakkai does not recoil or wrinkle his nose at the taste. He does not admonish the man for his behaviour, but lets the firm lips touch his and slip away as Gojyo's concentration wavers. Hakkai thanks Gojyo quietly and tells him that he will always be there for Gojyo to kiss. The words are very sweet and very loving and very stupid to say, but it's all right because Gojyo doesn't remember them in the morning.
Sometimes Gojyo does not come home drunk, but Hakkai smells ladies' perfume and smoke and sex. He smiles his brittle smile and Gojyo grins his sultry grin, and everything is all right. Hakkai knows that this is Gojyo's other way to forget and he is fine with that, for he knows who Gojyo is and how he works and how he thinks. And Hakkai knows that he is not a part of who Gojyo is and how Gojyo works and how Gojyo thinks. And, somehow, this makes everything a little less painful.
Sometimes, though, Gojyo does not come home drunk and there is no lingering scent of sex or perfume. Only smoke clings to him, like a mistress to her lover, and it is heady and powerful and alluring. Hakkai worries then, for he knows that Gojyo has gone to think about times long past. Hakkai knows how painful remembering is, how deep the holes can dig, how raw the nerves can be. So he understands why Gojyo is hard and dark and mean when he saunters through the door. Hakkai listens to the harsh words, the curses, the abuse, and is hurt, but smiles all the same. He smiles his brittle smile and lets Gojyo vent.
Sometimes Gojyo apologizes, voice low and troubled. He begs, nearly, for forgiveness and looks so very wounded. Hakkai looks at him gently and smiles an almost real smile and forgives him. And Gojyo seems humbled and confused and unsure, faltering words spilling from his parted lips. It is then that Hakkai feels his heart constrict the most, seeing Gojyo, loud and fiery and confident Gojyo, stand before him with a bowed head. It hurts more than the harsh words, somehow, and Hakkai feels a need to heal the man. And, responding to that need, he tilts Gojyo's chin up and smiles softly, assuring his friend that all is forgiven and forgotten. He tells Gojyo that he understands, and he tells Gojyo that he loves him. This confuses Gojyo, and Hakkai does not remedy that confusion. He hopes, though, that someday his friend will understand the words. For now, the acceptance and forgiveness they portray is enough.
Sometimes Gojyo does not apologize. He ignores the incident, pushes Hakkai away. He is angry and spiteful and denying. Hakkai forgives him anyway. He smiles and talks and carries on as if nothing has gone wrong. Inevitably, Gojyo relaxes and returns to his lusty, lurid, lascivious self. And Hakkai is relieved and hurt at the same time, but he saves his tears for later, showing Gojyo only his brittle smile. He hopes, though, that someday his friend will see through the façade and ask him why. For now, the mask is enough.
Sometimes when Gojyo goes out, Hakkai follows him. He follows his friend, feeling guilt well up unnecessarily within him. He's concerned, he tells himself. He wants to help Gojyo and to do that…to do that, he has to know Gojyo. It's necessary, he tells himself. And, at length, he believes his excuses. When he believes, he follows more boldly.
Sometimes, Gojyo heads to town and drinks. When he does this, Hakkai finds a booth away from the main movement of the bars Gojyo frequents and watches. He smiles at the barmaid and declines a drink. Though he can certainly hold the stuff, he has never been one for liquor. Sometimes, though, the girl insists and he orders the strongest available. When one indulges oneself, he says, one should do so fully. She gets him his drink and he gives her his money, requesting that he be left alone, and the girl complies. She notes, though, that his eyes linger on another customer, a sultry man who has many a time invited her to bed. She notes, too, that the monacled man leaves before the other. Hakkai does so every time, for he wants to catch Gojyo as he falls across the threshold.
Sometimes, Gojyo heads to town and picks a lovely girl from the crowd that surrounds him. The act is at once careless and very precise, and Hakkai feels a stab of pain deep within him. Surely, he tells himself, there is more to that. There must be more than a simple, random choosing. And there is, but as blind to the cues as Gojyo, he does not notice. Each girl chosen is sweet and kind and has brown hair. She wears green and, often, earrings. Sometimes, when available, she wears glasses. Hakkai does not notice, but walks home slowly to wait and greet his friend and smell the musky mix of sex and perfume that clings to his lithe body.
Sometimes, rarer than the other sometimes, Gojyo does not head to the town, but instead follows a narrow, twisting path deep into the forest that surrounds their home. And Hakkai never follows Gojyo, because he knows that his friend is not going to forget, but to remember and he can, and will, respect the man in that. It is a different sort of remembering than when he comes home smelling of tabacco and must. It is a deep, throbbing thing, this recalling. It calls on memories not truly bared, but hidden deep, deep within. They both catch glimpses at times, as do Goku and Sanzo. But those two have each other, and Hakkai and Gojyo live alone together. So it is hard for them; harder for Gojyo, though, Hakkai believes. For Hakkai, after his remembrance, is relieved. Gojyo never comes home relieved. He never answers Hakkai, but glares, because Hakkai can never not ask how Gojyo's night was. They never retire on those nights in good spirits, Gojyo too troubled and Hakkai too worried, but in the morning they never remember and their life continues on in its sometimes, never manner.
Sometimes happens very often with the two men, and Hakkai wonders often if there is every going to be anything more than 'sometimes'. If there is a chance of 'this time' happening. Or will a different time never come, and the sometimes never alter. Hakkai supposes that it must be so, because their sometimes have become routine and Gojyo, despite his wild ways, does not break routine and Hakkai, despite his wishing, doesn't believe he has it in him to break the routine for him.
Sometimes, however, the never-changing sometimes, becomes Hakkai's wanted 'this time'.
This time happens on that rare sometimes, when Gojyo leaves to remember. He takes a flask of their strongest whisky, a tumbler, and a cup of ice, bidding Hakkai no fair well as he passes his friend, reading, in their living room. This has never happened before and Hakkai takes note, closing his book as Gojyo closes the door. He moves to stand by the window, watching Gojyo take the path from their house, knowing that he will turn left at the fork.
This time, however, Gojyo turns right, which he has never done before, and Hakkai does not understand this break of routine. But it has been broken and he dashes it further when he slips on his coat and out the door, gliding slowly after his friend of so many years. Through the woods, along the right path, until he comes to a clearing. Gojyo stands in the middle of it, tumbler in one hand, whisky in the other, glass of ice on the ground. And Hakkai studies him for a moment. Gojyo never takes ice in his drinks.
This time, though, is not a sometimes, nor a never. It is this time and Gojyo bends to put three cubes in his whisky. They float together as he holds the glass and the air is cold enough that they melt very, very slowly. Hakkai watches Gojyo stand in the night air, watches the way the man shifts easily, watches the way the wind dallies with his friend's hair. He watches as, slowly, they glass begins to sweat, and as, eventually, Gojyo bends to put another ice cube in the whisky. Gojyo never wastes a good whisky.
This time he does, letting the tumbler idle in his hands, the flask drop to the ground, and the moisture drip to the grass. And Hakkai hears, in the dark, starlit silence, the clink of ice against glass. Hears it clearly, as clearly as Gojyo must and does not make a move. Even Gojyo, with his keen ears and strong eyes, has never noticed Hakkai unless he moves.
This time, and neither can say why, he does. And Gojyo turns, returning Hakkai's gaze with an unreadable one of his own. His mouth is neutral and his face impassive, and Hakkai cannot recall a time when it has been so. His own face is open and readable, without the brittle smile and shuttered eyes. When Gojyo raises his empty hand, Hakkai steps forward. They are both silent as he walks and Hakkai cannot recall a time when there has been such quiet. Even the times when they have no words to speak, the space between them is not empty, but filled with emotion and movement and other such things.
This time, the silence is absolute and there is nothing between them, even when Hakkai places his hand in Gojyo's. There are no words to fill the nothing that is between them, and Hakkai does not try to make them when Gojyo bends, then sits, tugging his friend with him. There is no expectation between them when Gojyo sets the tumbler down next to the glass of ice and tilted flask, and Hakkai does not try to feel any when he leans against Gojyo's shoulder. There are no emotions between them when Gojyo tilts his head and, completely sober and aware, presses his lips to Hakkai's, and Hakkai does not try to create them when he returns the kiss. There will be time, they both understand, for the words and expectations and emotions to take place.
This time, however, they have no need for such things. They kiss, taste each other without alcohol to hide the natural flavor, under the empty expanse of dark and moon and stars. The nothing between them will be gone tomorrow, but sometimes will not reclaim its place. Instead, an always that has never been before, will bloom. It will bloom from Hakkai's murmurs, from his promises to always be there to catch Gojyo and to always be there for Gojyo to kiss. And it will bloom from his silent, unknown vow to always be there for Gojyo to love. So they kiss and banish the sometimes and the never and create an always and forever.
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All comments and criticism are welcome. I hope you enjoyed my tale. :3