Title: Words
Author: Jinxaire
Pairing(s): Gojyo/Hakkai
Rating: PG-13
Summary or description: Gojyo reflects on what Hakkai means to him
Email: divine (dot) mantis (at) gmail (dot) com
Website: http://jinxaire.livejournal.com/
Author's Note: I had
originally wanted to write a story inspired by a lovely song called "Words"
by Darren Hayes, which in my mind is a song that could very much describe
Hakkai. The fic that I wrote for this
challenge was not meant for that song, but it ended up with a common theme so
has replaced the story that I had originally wanted to write. It's also what lent this fic's title. I would still love it if you give the song a
listen with Gojyo and Hakkai in mind. : )
I also would have loved to expand on the idea but NeoOffice has kindly
informed me that I am very close to the 1000 word limit.
Gojyo wasn't a man
with an expansive vocabulary. Of
course, he knew how to speak clearly (usually) and write understandably
(sometimes), but his words were always simple and straightforward. He hadn't exactly grown up surrounded by
books and academia. He did, however,
have a library of vibrant curses at his disposal and was well versed in lewd
phraseology. Gojyo's words could cut to
the quick and seduce nearly any woman.
This was very
different from Hakkai who'd grown up in an entirely different world from the
hanyou. Raised at the orphanage, he'd
read more words on a daily basis than Gojyo read in a year. The bible that he'd probably read on a daily
basis most likely contained more words than Gojyo would ever read in his entire
life. That was even before Hakkai
had gone to the university to study. The
soft spoken brunet was a master of finely crafted sentences, a florist who
arranged his words into the most delicate of bouquets, and an artist who could
paint thought onto the canvas of spoken language.
Sometimes Gojyo
wished he had the same skill with words as his youkai lover. In his more sentimental moments, he wished
for the ability to express what Hakkai truly meant to him but his tongue couldn't
encompass the depth of his heart. So he
kept those words inside.
If Goku were to
describe Hakkai's appearance, he would probably say that Hakkai was tall,
skinny, and maybe even nice-looking. In
Gojyo's mind, that didn't even scratch the surface. If Gojyo's heart explained to the little monkey what Hakkai's
body was like in terms that the youth might readily understand, Goku would
probably have spitted and roasted Hakkai long ago.
Everything about
Hakkai was delicious: hair like silken strands
of dark chocolate that beckoned Gojyo to run his fingers through, skin the
color of honeyed cream that insisted that Gojyo taste with the most loving of
licks, and eyes like fresh mint that made him tingle everywhere when they
locked on Gojyo with intense heat.
Velvety lips of hot spice loved to liberally pepper Gojyo's skin until
his body burned with desire. The jagged
scar that traveled across Hakkai's belly was a decadent ribbon of caramel that
called out for Gojyo to stroke his tongue along its satiny length. When Hakkai came, Gojyo became drunk from a
heady liquor that drove him wild in the throes of passionate intoxication. Sweet buttery warmth enveloped him when
Hakkai would drape his satiated body across Gojyo afterwards.
No, he would never
describe Hakkai to Goku like that.
Goku, after all, was a hungry, greedy little animal with an insatiable
appetite and Gojyo didn't like to share.
Gojyo's jealousy kept his hunger-inducing visions of Hakkai to
himself. No, Goku mustn't discover how
delightful, how stimulating, and how immensely satisfying Hakkai was.
If Sanzo were to
construct a portrait of Hakkai, his thoughts would surely not include the word "idiot"
despite what he chose to verbalize on occasion. To him, Hakkai might be a fine piece of china that had been
marred – an evergreen glazed teacup with a chipped rim. Someone who gave too much of himself to
others with very little in return. A
man whose presence was surprisingly comfortable to dwell within. Sanzo's musings about Hakkai might even
roughly translate to associate Hakkai with "likable."
To Gojyo, however,
that chip in the porcelain made Hakkai all the most beautiful. It added a realness to the healer and the
fact that Hakkai had his own vulnerabilities gave Gojyo the opportunity to pick
him up, dust him off and glue him back together. He'd be whole again and though not perfect, that was okay because
Gojyo had his own cracks and blemished
scarlet finish. Hakkai gave so
much to others but for as much as Gojyo accepted from him, the redhead gifted
the brunet back in his own heartfelt way.
The presence of Hakkai was not merely comfortable to Gojyo, it
felt like coming home to a place that Gojyo never truly had before.
No, Gojyo knew that
it was for the best that Sanzo didn't understand what Hakkai's true value
was. Hakkai was rarer and far more
precious than any of the heavenly sutras that the arrogant blonde so
coveted. After all, the gods had
created five of those, but had dared to craft only one Hakkai. Sanzo was selfish and Gojyo could see in his
mind's eye how the earth itself would tremble if the priest ever realized that
he didn't possess the precious treasure that Hakkai was, and that in fact,
Gojyo did.
Indeed, Gojyo was
certain that Sanzo and Goku could never come up with a true definition for
Hakkai. However, for every single
inadequate word or image that the two might come up with, Gojyo had ten more
with immensely deeper meanings. Maybe
his lack of vocabulary, the clumsy way words slipped out of his mouth with
crude and sometimes unfinished forms would prevent him from ever truly
expressing the way he saw Hakkai but this was indeed how Gojyo's heart
understood Hakkai to be.
Gojyo watched Hakkai
sleeping quietly in the cool half-light of the predawn that filtered through
the inn's thin curtains. The redhead
sighed in contentment. The soft glow
from the window caressed Hakkai's beautiful face, transmuting it into something
less earthbound and more ethereal.
Leaning forward carefully, he pressed his lips softly against Hakkai's
ear and mouthed a confession to Hakkai.
"I love you."
The words were silent but the
emotion wasn't. From the corner of
Gojyo's crimson eye, he saw Hakkai's soft lips drift into a sleepy smile and
Gojyo knew that even through the heavy blanket of sleep, Hakkai had heard. Gojyo knew that those words, simple and
undecorated as they were, spoke volumes to Hakkai. Those three words were simple and straightforward just like the
hanyou and they were all that Gojyo needed to say.
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