Maybe it was the accumulation of all the travelling he had done the past two days, or maybe it was the restless nights where he was too riddled with worry to sleep a wink, but Hijikata Toushirou was too exhausted at this point to notice the growing blot of ink on his report from pressing his brush a little too hard on the paper. Snapping out of his thoughts, he hastily drew back his arm with a disgruntled tsk . Now he was going to have to rewrite this paragraph again.

The vice commander had been way too distracted, and the bags under his eyes didn't help his case. He was just lucky Sougo and Kondo weren't here to witness how out of it he really was. Kondo especially would be worried sick and try to dig a reason out from him — and how could he tell him that this was all because of one stupid dying samurai who refuses to go home?

Yorozuya. He wonderedd what the idiot was doing now, and what he's thinking of. Was he even aware of how serious the situation is, or was he going to continue with that facade of indifference he's clearly wearing?

Hijikata was no stranger to death and loss. He understood that everybody had to meet their end one day, some earlier than others. He knew that sometimes people can try their hardest to live but have their efforts still be rendered futile. He knew that you could be begging on your knees screaming "please, I don't want to die" and the reprieve would still never come. What he didn't fucking understand was to have the solution presented to someone on a plate and they still decide to throw it in the trash.

He wasn't sure if the idea of Gintoki dying made him sad. He was pissed, for sure, that he had been so carelessly nonchalant about it, but that was the only defining emotion he could clearly distinguish from the jumble of thoughts in his mind. For the most part, he was confused. If he had to efficiently find a remedy to the issue at hand, he'd figure out who Gintoki's object of affection was and convince them that the bastard was worth falling for.

A small part of him, however, didn't want to know who it actually was. Why?

He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and decided to pack up and make his way over to the hotel that Gintoki was currently at. It was already late in the evening, so he should be awake by now.

The journey to the hotel was weirdly tranquil; the cab Hijikata took didn't have the radio on, and he was accompanied only by the soft humming of the car's air conditioner and the beeping of the signal buttons. He had taken the opportunity to mull over what he genuinely felt about Gintoki's circumstance, and determined that he was definitely distraught over the possibility of losing him. The silver-haired samurai held a special place in his heart, he was sure, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he would hate to say goodbye.

He had just stepped out from the elevator on the hotel's third floor when he was met with the same ghastly, vigorous coughing that he knew all too well. He couldn't help running down the corridor as fast as he could and barging in through the main door to Gintoki's room, shouting his name like his life depended on it.

"Gintoki…!"

A cough. "What…? Oh, it's you."

Hijikata froze in place with his hand still on the door handle. The jarring dissonance in their emotions hit him like a truck and he felt the embarrassment bristle through his body like a nasty electric shock.

"Why're you so loud today? People are trying to sleep, you know? Oi."

Obediently, Hijikata mumbled a half-sincere apology and quietly closed the door behind him. The hotel room was shrouded in a depressing gloom; mostly owing to the fact that the blinds were shut and the room was in complete darkness. He reached for the light switch.

"Don't."

A pause. Hijikata maintained his position, prompting Gintoki to give a reason.

"The light hurts my eyes."

Alright then. Relaxing his arm, the cop dumped his belongings on the floor beside him. He couldn't see Gintoki — or anything else for that matter — so he decided to just sit where he was with his back against the door.

An awkward silence ensued. Hijikata had come here on a whim, but he hadn't really prepared what to do once he arrived. Desperate, he said the first thing that came to his mind: "I'm guessing you didn't shower again?"

"Nah," came the reply.

Great .

Why the fuck was he even here? He had nothing to say — he just wanted to know if Gintoki was okay. Other than that, he was clueless. He thought the most appropriate thing to do would be to ask Gintoki how he had been holding up and if he needed anything, but he knew how the other man would hate it if he started treating him differently because of his sickness. The only things they had in common were anger and bloodlust — what happens then, if they meet at a time where neither were present? What was he supposed to say when the circumstance calls for love and comfort instead of vexation and violence?

It was the fucking worst. He felt like an idiot running around in circles in total darkness, pausing momentarily when he thinks he sees fleeting glimmers of light in the distance. He dissociated for half a second, his consciousness conjuring up an imaginary abyss that engulfed him and pervaded all of his senses. He was sure he was drowning. His vision of murky shadows expanded and swallowed him whole — in this quick, uneasy dream, he imagined himself reaching out towards the illusory sparkle in the emptiness only to have it disappear, leaving him bereft and alone in his feelings. As it always had been.

Gintoki broke the silence first.

"What's on your mind?"

A completely normal question — no sarcasm or spite. Hijikata was taken aback by the ordinariness of it, but took the chance anyway.

"Why don't you want to go for the surgery?"

With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hijikata could see Gintoki shuffle uncomfortably under the blanket, but he couldn't quite make out his facial expression.

"… Because I don't want to forget about the person."

Another pause. Hijikata pondered over this for a while, initially finding it to be a reasonable answer, then changing his mind altogether after some contemplation. "If you ask me, living's the better choice."

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" came the sharp reply.

Hijikata's temper rose. "I'm fucking saying that whoever it is, it's not worth dying for."

"And what's wrong with dying anyway? I'm tired."

"So you're just 'gonna give up like that?"

Hijikata impatiently waited for a reply but all he received were silence and the angry disheveling of bedsheets. He waited a few seconds, then a few minutes. "Oi— "

"Shut up man, let me sleep. You're too loud."

Gintoki was facing the other way, snugly wrapped with the blanket covering his ears. Hijikata wasn't sure whether to yell at him to stop being a dickhead, or to just leave the room altogether. He instead decided to continue sitting there with his back to the door, feeling almost unwelcome; like an unwanted weed.

It was past 8pm, and the streets outside the hotel were still bustling with activity. It was about this time when people were heading off for their after-work activities, and the night establishments were brimming with excitement and noise. The hotel room, in contrast, permeated with a stark silence that ate away at its two occupants.

Hijikata knew that Gintoki wasn't the type to surrender that easily in the face of death. It was too out of character — too strange to accept. He concluded that it was only because Gintoki knew who his love was, and that they were so important to him that he'd rather die than erase all memories he had of them. Hijikata couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy at this, though he wasn't sure why or what warranted it.

Almost as if on cue, Gintoki sat back up and coughed once again. It was getting significantly more terrible, but Hijikata could only watch as fresh white chrysanthemum petals were expelled across the room, some falling daintily into his own lap.

It was a pathetic sight.

After a few painful minutes of hearing Gintoki hack and wheeze, Hijikata decided to shift the conversation - or lack thereof - to a more practical route.

"Do you want me to pass any message to the kids?"

Gintoki thought for a while. "Yeah. Tell them I'm sorry."

It was a simple phrase, but it made Hijikata's blood boil. In his anger, he saw blinding, hot flashes of white that made him want to grab hold of Gintoki by the collar and shake him violently till he came to his senses. He didn't do that, though. Instead, he counted to three to calm himself, before plainly saying "you should just get better so you can tell them that yourself."

Another long pause.

Hijikata was about to give up entirely on the promise of this conversation going anywhere. Dusting his pants, he prepared to stand up with the full intention of leaving the room. However, a softly whispered "…please" stopped him in his tracks.

The dark-haired man paused, then slumped back to the floor. He promptly imagined a scene of him knocking on the front door of the Yorozuya office and delivering the news to Kagura and Shinpachi, a vision that appeared in his mind in an instant, but was gut-wrenchingly vivid — and it made him nauseous.

Hijikata finally realised that he really didn't want Gintoki to die. It wasn't like he was terribly important to him, but if he had to describe it, the yorozuya was like an extraordinary blaze of light in his life that simply refused to be extinguished. This stubborn spark demanded his attention and awe, and gave him inspiration whenever he needed it. Hijikata found himself inexplicably drawn to him - and like a blinded fool ever since the moment they met, he had always been willing to set his path aflame just for the chance to walk by his side.

It infuriated him to see Gintoki accept his own death so easily. He wanted to slam his fist against the wall; he wanted to walk up to the bastard and punch him right in his stupid, apathetic face.

But he didn't. Instead, he asked, "What about finding the person you're in love with?" and was met with a half-snort, half-laugh from the other man.

"Are you crazy? It's literally impossible. No way. There's no chance."

Hijikata frowned. A question welled up in his throat — one that he'd been dying to ask but never had the guts to till now. He rested his head against the wall and uncrossed his legs, stretching them till his toes slightly touched the wooden frame of the bed. He hesitated for a few seconds more. Fuck it.

"Who is it?"

Gintoki, who had been reclined against the headboard and sitting with his knees tucked under his chin, coughed dramatically and slid his body down the bed till he was back under the soft blanket. Hijikata hears him noisily rustle around; sees the silhouette of his body under the covers move chaotically as if Gintoki was really fucking struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep at that moment.

After what seemed like an eternity of obnoxious pillow and blanket adjustments, the silver-haired samurai finally responded with a "Nah. Your temper is atrocious. If I tell you who it is, you're probably going to torture them and ask them to commit seppuku, won't you?"

Hijikata's vein throbbed once more. "Why the fuck would I do that? I just —" he grits his teeth. "I just want to make sure we've exhausted all our options here."

Another long pause. He was getting sick of this. All of their conversations so far have led to nothing but frustration and a lack of solutions, and every word exchanged proves that he just doesn't fucking understand what's going on in Gintoki's head. He wished he had an ability to instantaneously read the other man's mind without having to speak. He was drowning in worry and it agonised him to the point of suffocation, but he just didn't know how to put it into words. Hell, he knew that both of them were equally stubborn and hopeless when it came to communication when it mattered. It was especially difficult tonight; he was so tired from his sleep debt that his brain didn't have the capacity to weave his worrisome thoughts into the right sentences that would make sense for the both of them.

Maybe he'd know what to say after he wakes up.

Gintoki sighs and wriggles restlessly under his blanket once more. He had thought about his answer carefully — probably a bit too much — and in the end had decided to avoid Hijikata's question with a ridiculous retort that made no sense, even to himself. He was lying on his side facing the covered windows, and for a second regretted shutting the blinds. It would have been nice if he could see the stars tonight. He was aware that Hijikata was waiting for an actual answer to his question, even after the half-assed attempt at diversion, but for some stupid reason he couldn't bring himself to say the truth. He decided to avoid the subject altogether.

"Listen, I've had a long day okay? I wasn't expecting to be interrogated at this time of the night. This is supposed to be the time after work when people can finally settle comfortably in bed to read their porn mags and things like that, not be forced to pour their heart out to a dirty cop." He continued, digging a finger into his exposed ear to really emphasize the fact that he doesn't care. "And, while you've been out terrorizing other unknowing citizens of the state, poor Gin-san's been puking enough flowers to create his very own Koishikawa Gardens*, y'know? It's a miracle no flowers have come out of my ass yet, y'know?"

There was no response, and he took it as a sign to continue grumbling. "Then you come in all sad and serious every night and it ruins my mood all over again. Why can't you just—" adjusting and turning himself so that he's now facing the opposite direction, Gintoki stopped mid-sentence when he realized that Hijikata had fallen asleep in the same position he'd been in since the start of the night.

He swallowed the rest of his sentence and studied the sight before him. He had never seen the vice commander look this serene before. His usually furrowed brows were now relaxed; his scowl replaced with a soft, slightly-parted pout. It was unfamiliar, yet Gintoki was sure he could gaze at him forever.

He scoffed lightly and smiled as he propped his head up with his right arm. Fuck this guy.

Perhaps he's starting to really like the silence shared between the both of them. It was beginning to bring a tranquility that he realized was what he had been craving for a long time now.

His mind wandered, and he tried to imagine Hijikata's reaction to finding out that he was the one that he had fallen for. Would he be disgusted? Angry? Would he leave the room without a word, or would he immediately cut him down where he stood?

It was a scary thought.

Gintoki concluded that if he were to die within the next few days, he'd rather do so with his last memories being that of this shared comfort than that of Hijikata's rejection.