I redid it. Dialogue is now easy to tell apart from the rest of the story, it flows better, and I just generally like it more.
Disclaimer: Genma and Hayate belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Warnings: Slight, SLIGHT sexual content and mentions of drug use. Shounen-ai, so if you don't like that, don't read it.
Colors there aren't names for drift across Hayate's vision, swirling around and painting fantastic shapes on the walls, while the world sharpens into a thousand new dimensions all around him and the line between fantasy and reality blurs until it is gone completely. The couch he is reclining on has never felt so soft, and he is prepared to swear that color has developed a sound. Hayate will regret it in the morning, when his mouth tastes like blood and bile, when his spine feels like it is made out of broken glass and his head is pounding, but right now there is nowhere in the world he'd rather be and nothing he'd rather feel.
Smoke wreathes around his head, shifting into figures and telling him stories through movement. Voices whisper in his ear, loving and hating and killing and crying, and it is so wonderful that he wonders why he ever tries to stop.
Genma will be angry and tell him to stop, tell him it's not worth it, and when Hayate is on his knees and puking up his guts he will agree, miserable and hurting, and swear that he'll never touch the stuff again.
And he'll go back to it, driven by a craving he can't understand or stop, and spend another night wrapped in invisible arms, his skin so sensitive that the slightest touch feels so good, so wonderful that he wonders why everyone doesn't do this...
Hayate doesn't think about how he'll feel in the morning, or what Gema will say, or the looks he'll get, although he hates all of it, because he is in a beautiful world where everything is perfect.
Genma comes in and stands in front of Hayate, scowling. He is angry, disgusted. He is saying something, but Hayate is already listening to someone else, someone Genma can't see because Genma is not in this world, this beautiful, perfect place.
Genma grabs Hayate's arm and tries to pull him up, but Hayate pulls Genma down and kisses him, relishing the feel of skin on skin. His senses are heightened to the point where he can feel Genma's heart beating, feel the man's sweat and pulse and breath, feel everything. This is why Hayate does it, because right now he is in a perfect world where everything feels good and nothing hurts.
You are killing yourself, Genma says.
Yes, Hayate agrees. I may be, but it feels so good. Hayate grins at Genma.
Stop it, Genma says.
Never, Hayate says. I will never stop this. It's beautiful, Genma.
Genma pushes away because Genma doesn't understand, because Genma doesn't see the world how Hayate is seeing it now, because Genma can only see the way Hayate looks. Genma can only see how sallow and thin Hayate's skin is, stretched over hollow cheeks and thin, sharp bones. Genma doesn't understand, because all Genma can see is glazed black eyes and hips jutting out and shoulders curling in. All Genma can see is sharp joints and too-pale skin stretched too tightly over an angular frame, because Hayate doesn't eat enough when he is like this, and Hayate is like this all the time.
Hayate pulls Genma back, presses against him and purrs, the sensation of Genma's clothes rubbing against his bare flesh unbelievably wonderful. Hayate runs his fingers over Genma's face and wonders what it would feel like to take off Genma's clothes and press against him, flesh on flesh, and run his hands all over Genma's beautiful body.
Genma pushes Hayate away again, hard. Hayate falls on his back, half off the couch, and laughs.
Genma, touch me, Hayate says.
Not while you're like this, Genma respons, sneering. The disgust is plain in his eyes, but Hayate doesn't care.
Anywhere, Hayate says. It feels good, he says, rubbing the top of his foot against Genma's cheek. Genma grabs Hayate's ankle and shoves his leg down, glaring.
Quit, Genma says, and Hayate laughs, black eyes fevered and glazed.
I love you, Genma, Hayate claims, throwing his head back and laughing again.
Shut up, Genma says. Hayate sits up and leans against Genma, face buried in Genma's hair and Genma's scent wreathing around him like colored smoke. Hayate loves the way Genma smells, love how he feels, loves all of him, every part of him. Hayate loves Genma, and loves to be with Genma when he's like this, because when Hayate is like this he can love Genma in a hundred new dimensions, love Genma with a hundred new senses and love every single part of him in every single way possible.
I can feel you breathe, Hayate whispers in Genma's ear, loving the way Genma's hair feels against his skin, tickling Hayate as his breath blows it away from Genma's head. I can hear your heart, Hayate whispers, his mouth not an inch from Genma's ear.
Genma shivers and tells Hayate to stop, but he doesn't push Hayate away. Hayate laughs and licks Genma's neck, laps up the salty sweat beading on Genma's skin. Hayate tells Genma that he loves him again, whispers it against Genma's neck and laughs when Genma shivers again. Genma tells Hayate to stop, that he's going to leave if Hayate doesn't stop, and Hayate laughs.
Hayate pulls at Genma's shirt, clumsy fingers fumbling at the buttons, until Genma grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away. Genma says no, but Hayate shakes his head, laughs, and slides his free hand under Genma's shirt, caressing Genma's soft skin and sighing at how good it feels. Every nerve in Hayate's body has moved to his fingers, and the feel of Genma's skin under his fingertips is pure ecstasy.
Touch me, Hayate says again, lacing his fingers through Genma's. Genma finally acquiesces, wrapping his arm around Hayate's waist and running his fingers over Hayate's bare back. Hayate shudders and stifles his moan against Genma's lips. Genma lightly scrapes his nails over the sensitive skin between Hayate's shoulder blades, and Hayate arches against him.
They will regret it in the morning, when Hayate wakes up aching and Genma holds his hair back as he vomits--again. They will not look at each other, and swear to the floor that they'll never do it again. And then Hayate will indulge his addiction again, giving Genma the chance to indulge his, and the promises of the morning will be broken and thrown away again.
Hayate is seventeen, and at seventeen he can ignore his own mortality. Although Hayate may not live forever, the world is beautiful and perfect and it belongs to him, which is practically the same thing.
Genma is twenty-four, and at twenty-four he should know better, but he's young and Hayate's younger and they will do anything and everything because they are young and the world is theirs. Hayat is trying to live as much as he can in the time that he has, and Genma wants to live with Hayate.
Genma doesn't understand why Hayate ruins his brain with drugs and his body with constant over-exertion and malnutrition, but he does understand why Hayate lives the way he does, fiercely and as hard and fast as he can.
Genma understands that he loves Hayate, even though he's never said it, and he understands that he wants to live with Hayate. Genma understands that life without Hayate would not really be life at all.
So Hayate begs and Genma touches and they kiss and grope and beg and give and take, and in the morning they will regret it, but for just now they are content to have each other.
And Hayate laughs and Genma sighs and they moan and gasp and arch and push and pull, and the world keeps turning for everyone but them.
Hayate laughs and Genma sighs, because Genma doesn't understand what's so funny, and that makes Hayate laugh again.
It's life, Genma, Hayate says, still laughing. Life is funny, Genma, Hayate says as Genma kisses his neck.
And, just for now, Genma understands.