Anguish

by scribblemoose

Gojyo knelt and took the pain, because in his heart he felt he must deserve it.

She wouldn't do it otherwise.

Would she?

He'd tried everything to make his almost-mother love him. He'd tried to be good, he'd brought her flowers, he'd tried to hide away so small and quiet she wouldn't have to notice him at all. None of it worked.

If this would make her happy, he would endure it.

And if he died, he didn't really care.

What did he have to live for, anyway?

*******

Hakkai watched Gojyo as he got ready to go out. He was whistling softly as he pulled the brush through his hair, taming all but the two wayward strands at the crown. Then he shook his head, a curtain of red silk swishing across his shoulders.

Hakkai gasped, covering the sound quickly with a cough, which in turn led to a stab of pain through his still-healing stomach wound. Served him right, he thought ruefully. He wasn't quite used to being open about the feelings Gojyo inspired in him. Here they were, living together like an old married couple, and yet neither of them had really talked about any kind of relationship. They each knew how the other felt, Hakkai was sure of that. But to say it out loud seemed like tempting fate.

And to let Gojyo know that something as simple as the way his hair moved inspired instant desire in his roommate wasn't something Hakkai was ready for. Especially when he was about to go out and flirt – and goodness knows what else – with women all night. It might smack of jealousy, and somehow Hakkai didn't imagine Gojyo would really like that.

"I'll be late," Gojyo said, sliding his arms into a black leather jacket, his currently most prized item of clothing. A real chick magnet, he said. Hakkai just hoped that it would be him who got to peel it off later. Which was uncharitable, because Gojyo probably hoped for different things.

"I'll be here."

"Right." Gojyo threw him a wink and tossed his hair, his beautiful, amazing hair, one more time before he left their tiny apartment and stalked into the night.

*******

Sometimes when it was very dark, and the rain pounded on the window, Hakkai just liked to be held. Gojyo knew this now. He found himself alert when the rain fell, often awake all through the night just in case he was needed. He knew Hakkai was vulnerable, then. Like Sanzo, except Gojyo kept his distance from Sanzo when it rained. Unlike Hakkai, Sanzo got mean when he was depressed. Gojyo was fairly certain he'd never actually shoot any of them, and if he decided he wanted a fight Gojyo was happy he could hold his own. But he didn’t want to. He'd happily wrestle with Sanzo any day. But he couldn't fight Sanzo's despair.

He'd feared for Goku, in the beginning. The monkey was covered in bruises one time when they came to visit, and Gojyo had… well, Hakkai said he'd jumped to conclusions. He'd half beaten the shit out of Sanzo before Goku had managed to convince him that he'd come off worse in a fight with a particularly mean bear. He knew now that however bad he felt, Sanzo would never hurt Goku. But Gojyo stayed out of his way when it rained, nonetheless, until Hakkai told him it was safe.

Hakkai, however, was another matter.

And much as Gojyo felt bad for admitting it, he'd come to like the rain. He wished Hakkai didn't feel so bad, of course. But there was something about holding him through those long nights, comforting him through the tears and the self-loathing and the guilt, of turning all that anguish into, if not happiness, then at least a certain sort of peace, that made Gojyo warm and pleased and wanted inside.

Hakkai always told him that it helped. And that made Gojyo love him all the more.

*******

The blows stopped suddenly, and Gojyo crumpled and sobbed. He heard a voice, Jien's at first, but it couldn't be. Not now. That was then. This was… different.

"Gojyo, I'm here. She's gone. It's alright, Gojyo."

He lifted his head, and trembling, blood-stained fingers swept the hair back from his face. Warm lips kissed his.

"It's alright, Gojyo," Hakkai whispered. "She's gone."

And maybe, at last, she had.

~owari~