Title: 30 days without you

Series: Saiyuki AU

Paring: 58; Rating: T

AN: For those of you who wanted the Ordinary World fic to have more character development before smut. I'm not complaining, I'm gifting; this is for all of you. Enjoy!

Ch. 1-Hakkai POV:

Hakkai couldn't tell if it was the new job, or the throngs of so many people, or the oddness of his plane ride, but the first few days in the city about broke him. He was constantly tired, yet unable to sleep; hungry, but everything he ate was like ash in his mouth; and worse, he couldn't stop thinking that somewhere in this city was a person who knew almost everything about him. He didn't understand it. He'd gone and broken two of his own rules: never get close and never want more.

At first he'd just chalked it up to exhaustion, he hadn't slept in days and then with the jetlag and all…but now he knew what it was and he was vainly struggling with it. The first time he'd made the mistake he'd been out with Goku walking around Time Square. The high whine of the engine had him pausing in the middle of the crowded street; the flash of red on the peripheral of his vision had his hand half raised and a name on his lips; the realization that he'd been hoping to see him had it back at his side, mouth clamped firmly shut, hands fisted into tight balls and stuffed into his pockets, his feet thwacking harshly on the pavement as he pushed past Goku and on into the crowd. He didn't want this, he didn't; maybe if he just kept repeating that long enough he'd finally believe it.

***

A week later he'd been at a bookstore in the East Village. He'd taken to the five story monstrosity of random piles of books set on precarious shelves at gravity defying angles immediately. He'd also taken to browsing the fliers and business cards pinned to the bulletin board by the doors; New York had some of the most interesting people. There were cards for tutors and mechanics, flyers for one-man shows and bars, fire-eaters and masseuses, anything and everything one could think of. So when a solid black card with scrawling red print peeked through the ramble of sheets he almost didn't notice it. Almost.

Before he knew it his fingers were curling under the thicker card-stock, paper cuts ignored as he about pulled the whole damn thing down trying to loose the card, only to feel his face drop when different words, different names peeked back up at him shyly. He felt a disgusted snort on his lips and dropped his hand back to his side. Turning on his heel he stomped from the shop, leaving his choices sitting forgotten on the small shelf.

He didn't know why this was ticking him off so much. It's not like he didn't have his own card taped to the refrigerator back at Sanzo's, its immaculate surface barely hanging on by the tape he so carefully applied to the edges, it was the only thing on the stark white surface in the kitchen and it made him smile each time he saw it. The small dark card brought a certain amount of chaos to the Zen like room and he relished in the feeling of disorder. It was the only thing that made him feel like he'd come home at the end of the day. That he wasn't alone after all.

***

Any person that works for a living will tell you that some days are better than others. That was definitely the case for Hakkai the following Wednesday. He'd had three parent-teacher conferences, a staff meeting, a department meeting, and two referrals to deal with. Walking into the teacher's cafeteria his nose crinkled sharply as he attempted to not gag on the obvious smell of burnt…something that had once been living to boot. Hakkai wasn't a vegetarian, but smelling that rancid burnt flesh smell could have made him one right there.

He gagged and turned on his heel, forget lunch, forget dinner, forget eating fried chicken for the next week, he didn't even want to know what had happened, as long as he could flee the foul smelling room quick enough that it didn't permeate his clothes he'd be fine.

….He wasn't fine.

Nope. Not by a long shot, and standing on the train for an hour with that smell sticking to him like a second skin, random homeless people moving away with disgusted looks plastered oh so subtly across their ravaged features just made him feel all the better about himself.

Clicking the door shut behind him he stripped right there in the apartment's hallway. Fleeing to the bathroom he manically scrubbed himself raw in the shower. After thirty minutes of scalding water and lemon scented soap suds he thought maybe he was somewhat normal smelling again. Leaning over the sink he surveyed himself in the mirror, lightly fingering the angry red welts where his nails had dug a little too deep; he smiled softly at the ones across his cheek.

"Go…jyo…" sinking to his knees on the cold tile floor he wrapped his thin arms around his chest and took a shaky breath while trying to steady his nerves. He didn't need another relationship. He didn't want one. He was good, stuff like this happens all the time; he didn't need someone to talk to about it. He didn't.

It was a long time before he managed to pull himself together and get on with dressing and throwing the horrid smelling clothes in the wash. Even longer before he decided he really wasn't hungry and just curled up in the bed, a small frail man fighting against what he wanted and what he thought he knew he should do. He stayed that way until his eyes fell and the moon disappeared behind the sun.

A new day dawning noiselessly.

***