Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction ❯ Unseen Smile ❯ Unimportant Emotions ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: Don't own Saiyuki. Ü Warnings: Same ones as before Ü

 

Unimportant Emotions

 

When Gojyo woke up, there was coffee waiting for him on the small table by the kitchen. Hakkai was quietly sitting by the window and gazing out to the streets, a coffee mug in his hands.

 

“You're up earlier than usual,” he greeted him as he walked over to take the coffee from the table. After taking a sip of the bittersweet liquid, he joined the other by the window.

 

“I just remembered that we didn't have anything to eat so I went out for some coffee and bread,” Hakkai answered with a smile and motioned at an unopened pack of bread by the kitchen counter. “Well get something decent to eat for lunch.”

 

“Nah, coffee and a few smokes is fine,” Gojyo said languidly as he placed a cigarette stick between his lips. Before he could even light it Hakkai had snatched the stick and slowly placed it back in the pack.

 

“Try to cut it down, we'll both get lung cancer from all your smoking,” Hakkai said with a reproving smile. “Especially now that Sanzo's coming along with us, there'll be two chain smokers around me and Goku.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Gojyo started and absently picked up the cigarette pack but threw it instead on the table when he saw Hakkai's glare, smiling but still glaring at him nonetheless. “Have you seen how Sanzo works? I mean, what does he use?”

 

“Well, Sanzo was exceptionally adept with the Glock and the Desert Eagle back then during our training days so I suppose he's using the same medium as yours.”

 

“And the boy? You did say that the boy was being trained right?”

 

“Well, mediums vary from one person to another,” Hakkai said slowly. “I was first trained using a gun but during a small workshop, father saw that I had more skill with the katana I now own. Sanzo may just be training Goku preliminaries to enable the boy self-defense.”

 

“Must be hard working covert like Sanzo,” he said thoughtfully. “Having to take care of yourself, of the boy and then of everything else.”

 

“It's a good thing Sanzo's responsible enough to bring Goku up that well,” the other agreed. “But maybe it's time he allowed the boy to return the favor.”

 

“What do you mean?' Gojyo looked up from his coffee to find Hakkai smiling brightly at him.

 

“That maybe Sanzo should allow the boy in his life, the way we did to each other.”

 

---

 

When Sanzo opened his eyes, he was comfortably sprawled on the floor, the door half-open and Goku, snuggling even closer to him underneath his arms. Warm, cocoa colored hair brushed against his face and tickled his nose. A soft snore came from the boy and a hand stole out to take his fingers in his own. Sanzo couldn't help but smile a little. How was he supposed to think that this kid wasn't a kid anymore when he was still doing the same things he used to do back then?

 

“Oi Goku,” Sanzo softly said and nudged the boy beside him. The teen shifted and angled his head up to look at the amethyst eyes probing into him. He stifled a yawn before smiling up at the blond.

 

“Good morning, Sanzo,” Goku breathed out and brushed a few golden locks from his face to tuck behind an ear. “What's for breakfast?”

 

“We just had a fight last night,” Sanzo reminded him and picked him up in his arms so that the boy was lying on top of him, head resting on his chest and arms looped around his neck. “And here you are thinking about food.”

 

“Sanzo that was last night, we were just too hyped out from what had happened. We'll talk more calmly during breakfast, right?” He asked, beaming up at him, eyes turning into small slits as he grinned widely.

 

“Okay, I'll get breakfast then,” he said and pushed to get up. The boy continued to lie on his stomach, face still resting on his chest. “How will I prepare breakfast if you're still sitting on me?”

 

“Nah Sanzo, I was thinking, last night, after our fight, what we are,” Goku said seriously, golden eyes meeting his deep purple ones. “What are we Sanzo? Partners? Roomies? Brothers? What?”

 

He could only stare at the boy and tried to stand up, to leave the conversation hanging in the air. He'd get up and prepare breakfast and the topic would just be forgotten. Yes, that's what he'll do but as he tried to push himself upright, Goku's weight continued to push him down.

 

“Well, Sanzo, what are we? It's been six years since we've been together and I've never asked you about us since now. I was thinking maybe now we had an answer to that unspoken question.”

 

He didn't answer instead he mustered all his energy to sit up and leave Goku in a pile on the floor. His footsteps grazed the wooden floor and then touched the cool tiles of the kitchen. He opened the fridge, rummaged through the meager groceries and took out two eggs. When he turned around to get the pan, he was standing before him, a curious expression on his face and before he could even say anything, Goku stood on tip toes and brought his face closer to Sanzo.

 

“What are you doing, you little monkey?” Sanzo said trying to sound annoyed in order to hide the surprise in his face and probably the anticipation of feeling those lips so close to his own. He furrowed his brow trying to concentrate on those warm golden orbs but found himself being pulled down, closer and closer to those full lips.

 

“I want to know Sanzo, what we are,” he replied softly, his breath warm against Sanzo's face.

 

Get a hold of yourself, Sanzo. Don't defile such an innocent young child with your devious little needs and desires. Don't infect him with that heat running through your body.

 

“Get me the bowl, Goku,” Sanzo rasped and turned around to get cheese from the fridge. He heard a snort, the creaking of the cabinet and finally the clink of the china on the cold tiled kitchen counter.

 

“Guess we'll talk later then,” came the amused comment from the boy before hearing padded feet heading for the room. Sanzo turned around and saw the door to their room closing. He opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a spare pack of Marlboro's and lit himself a stick. He didn't like smoking so early in the morning but when he's so wired up like this, a stick or two wouldn't hurt.

 

Maybe Goku wasn't the child he used to be, Sanzo thought as he watched the smoke rise and fizzle out into the air. Maybe it was time they had that talk about what they were. Six years of unspoken emotions, unimportant one he had always thought but grew stronger each day, each night that passed with Goku by his side. They had shared a bed for almost six years only too sleep in it and for the past few months, Sanzo had been waking up in the middle of the night with sweating and tense. He'd usually go into the bathroom take a quick cold bath to drain all those thoughts running through his head and he was fine. He'd go back underneath the covers, pull the boy next to him and go back to sleep.

 

Sanzo had just finished beating the eggs and was about to pour it over the simmering pan when there was a knock on the door followed by a loud greeting. He opened the drawer again to take out the Dessert Eagle Goku had used the night before. It was still missing one bullet but otherwise had a nearly fresh round of ammunition.

 

“Good morning Sanzo,” came the muffled voice. Slowly and quietly, he walked towards the door and peered through a small hole he had made next to the door. He saw a pair of legs in jeans and another pair in black slacks. Still uncertain of the identity of the two, he aimed the gun at the visitors as he opened the door.

 

“Is this how you usually greet visitors?” The red-head asked with an amused grin. Sanzo smirked and lowered the gun and stepped aside to let Hakkai and Gojyo in.

 

“Well you have to be careful,” Sanzo said as he closed the door behind him. “So many people trying to get rid of us, it's only natural to be like this. Breakfast?”

 

“No thank you, we've had coffee already,” Hakkai said with a smile and sat down on the couch next to Gojyo. The red-head leaned back on the couch to get a couple of papers from his pocket.

 

“Hope you're comfortable with middle seats because all aisle seats are taken,” the red-head said with a smirk and handed him their airline tickets. “Besides, it's safer having middle seats.”

 

Sanzo took the tickets with a sigh and involuntarily glanced at the bed room door before stuffing them in his pockets. He was sure that the teenager would agree to them leaving but would still be pissed off at him for making a decision without asking him first.

 

“Ask Goku first about what he wants or how he feels before you show him the tickets, he'd be less agitated by that,” Hakkai suggested with a knowing smile. Gojyo was coarser in pointing out Sanzo's predicament.

 

“Just talk to the boy and clear both your heads, it would be easier for all of us not having repressed emotions running high and about,” he said as he leaned back on the coach, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. Hakkai had to cut in with a nervous laugh to keep Sanzo from outright killing the unstoppable red-head. Sanzo, with gritted teeth, caught a pillow in his hands and roughly threw it to hit the other squarely in the face.

 

“Oi! That's the second time you've done that to me!” Gojyo started to get up and raise his sleeves to fight with the blond but a restraining hand pushed him back on the couch. He saw Hakkai a smile plastered on his face but a reprimanding glint in those emerald eyes.

 

“Last time I've seen you Hakkai, you never smiled,” Sanzo commented as he lit a cigarette. He puffed out white hazy smoke from his lips, waiting for the brunette's reply. Hakkai looked down at his hands, the smile fading a little but nonetheless remained on his lips.

 

“That's because I didn't really have a reason to smile before and if I recall properly, you weren't so approachable yourself,” he said and looked up to smile at the blond. The blond looked away and took a deep drag from his cigarette, obviously caught off-guard by the comment.

 

“Six years, huh? Seems too long not to develop anything,” Gojyo commented. “Even rashes develop in a few hours.”

 

“What an idiotic comment coming from you,” Sanzo shot back and received a glare. “Where'd you get this guy, Hakkai?”

 

“Oh he's a long time comrade,” Hakkai said with a smile, his hand not leaving Gojyo's arm. “We work for the same operative.”

 

“So tell me, what happened along the way, Hakkai?” Sanzo asked an eyebrow raised in interest as his mouth curved up into a small knowing smile. “Got your self a little red cat?”

 

---

 

Goku was toweling his hair dry when he noticed several voices coming from behind the door. After a while, he noticed that Sanzo was probably talking with Hakkai and Gojyo but it seems like they weren't discussing about Chin Iisou. It was something entirely different.

 

“I don't…around talking…don't really know…with Goku…so young…these feelings…” was some of the words Goku had managed to get through the wooden door. He pressed his ear harder against the door, trying to make out the best of the muffled conversation. They were talking about him, about him and Sanzo. Though he was a bit pissed about how Sanzo opens up to these people rather than to him first, it was the best way to understand how Sanzo really feels. It gives him more of an understanding of the usually silent man.

 

“..it's normal…six years…be attached…learn to love…Goku compliments you…feisty attitude… sweet demeanor…

 

“…contrasting but complimentary…”

 

Goku smiled at the red-head's choice of words, simple but true. He had to admire that the red-head seemed to look stupid but was equally insightful as the calm and always well-placed Hakkai.

 

“What should…with Goku…tried talking…too scared…might leave…”

 

“…won't leave…adores you…”

 

“…love him?”

 

“…haven't thought…feelings are unimportant…”

 

Goku could almost feel his heart breaking into pieces at those words, thinking that the reason why Sanzo never told him his feelings because he didn't have any for him.

 

“..sure about that?”

 

“…love him…still scared…might lose…painful again…”

 

“…more painful…lose him…doesn't know…love him…right?”

 

“…talk to him later... don't know…to say…”

 

“…good…wait for you…dinner?”

 

“…downstairs…seven o'clock…”

Goku finally moved away from the door and continued to dry his hair. Though he still doesn't know these two very much, he's thankful to them for opening up Sanzo a little for him. When he pressed his ear again to the door, he heard the soft sound of the door closing behind the sound of fading footsteps. He moved quickly away, just in time to act normal as the door to the bedroom opened. He tried to act innocent as if he didn't hear anything by continuing to dry the damp brown locks on his head.

 

“You just missed Hakkai and Gojyo,” Sanzo's rich bass voice came from the door way.

 

“I just finished taking a shower. Didn't want to appear before them all filthy like you did,” Goku said with a grin and looked at him. He frowned when he saw that Sanzo's face was still marked with confusion. Slowly, the blond took out his Marlboro pack and placed a stick between his lips and started smoking again.

 

“Is that your fourth stick?” Goku said, the frown creasing his youthful face. He threw the towel onto the bed, walked over to Sanzo and flicked the cigarette from his lips. With an annoyed sigh, he threw the newly lit stick out of the window. “We haven't even had breakfast and you're on your fourth stick already. Are you trying to contract lung cancer from all that nicotine?”

 

“That was just my third stick,” Sanzo protested and walked over to the boy. “You've been so touchy and hot-headed lately, what's gotten into you?”

 

“A lot of things that you don't want to talk about,” Goku said with a smile that made Sanzo frown. He turned around to search for a brush but could still feel those purple eyes following his every movement.

 

“Well can you blame me if I don't know how to start?” He said with a slight edge to his voice. Goku tried his best not to laugh at the obvious irritation he was showing. “What do you want me to say anyway?”

 

“I just want to hear what you have to say. I don't want to put words into your mouth,” he said and continued brushing his hair. “If I did that then it would just look like you were following my whims.”

 

“Don't I?”

 

“Whatever. It still doesn't change the fact that you don't want to talk about things concerning us,” came the cool retort. Sanzo seemed more irritated by the obvious nonchalance from the boy. A part of him wanted to give in and just spill everything out but another part was being stubborn and just wanted to hold ground. The latter won and with a quick turn on his heels, Sanzo had walked of the room to find solace in the living room, leaving Goku to simmer in his own juices.

 

This was not the conclusion Goku had imagined. With an angry huff, he returned to drying his hair.

 

---

 

Gojyo lit the cigarette that was hanging loose on his lips. Hakkai was in the bedroom, doing some last minute checks on their flight and was also transferring encoded messages to Lirin. He had excused himself for a light which Hakkai had approved with an irritated smile, the one he usually wore when dealing with stains on his light-colored shirts. Come to think of it, he rarely sees Hakkai smile, the one where his eyes would be all bright and his face would be calm. He usually would have something guarded beneath those cool emerald gems.

 

He hated to admit it but he kind of knew why Hakkai wore that smile. He wore one himself. He smiled a lot for someone who didn't have any reason to smile. He was twelve, the time of the civil war in his country, when his life started going down the drain. His brother was a nurse and was required by the government to give service to the military. After a few months away from home, his brother had returned…in a body bag. Reports had it that he died during an encounter with the opposition. As he was dragging a wounded soldier to safety, he was spotted amidst the commotion and was gunned down. He took it pretty hard given that he was pretty close to his brother. He withdrew from the world and closing himself up to prevent anyone from reaching to him. Just a few days shy of his fifteen birthday, several rebel soldiers attacked the town they were living in. He could still hear the frightened command of his mother to hide in the attic closet and hurriedly piled the boxes of clothes before the closet door. The gunshots, amidst the pleading and crying, had torn through the already chaotic household. He stifled his tears, choked back his cries and clenched his fists to prevent himself from running out and killing those soldiers with his bare hands. With so much rage running through his veins like venom, he had quietly passed out in the closet.

 

Gojyo flicked the burnt down cigarette out of the window but did not get another one. He continued to stare out of the window, his thoughts still dallying over those of the forgotten past. When he had regained consciousness, he pushed his way out of the closet, the pile of boxes tumbling down in a heap. The acrid stench of blood filled the whole house and as he stepped down the attic ladder, the bodies of his dead parents was the present he had received for his birthday. Scream after scream tore through him and rang over and over again in the empty house. He stumbled out of the house and saw that the whole town was massacred and that only a few of them survived. Children's bodies, not older than him were scattered like rag dolls on the streets, their parents were close by, dead with gunshot wounds to their temples. It was hell in the eyes of a fifteen year old boy.

 

He walked five miles to the next town and dropped to the pavement, worn out of fatigue and exhaustion. Someone probably took pity on him and brought him in to be taken care of. When he had opened his eyes, he was in a room; the ceiling fan above his head was turning at a lazy speed. The man who had rescued him offered something that he had hastily accepted: training to become a hired-gun.

 

He didn't know why he bothered to live through each day, when all he wanted was to die in any encounter tossed at him. That was the reason why he accepted the deal in the first place. He had lived precariously over the edge with each assignment given to him; even the operatives reprimanded him for being so careless. But he found something to live for, or so he thought. He met a woman he had fallen madly in love with. She called herself May but he later found out that she was actually Marita. He had grown to be an infamous assassin and many wanted him dead, and this girl had tried to win his heart and kill him in bed, literally. A few months after meeting each other, he had decided to propose to her and try to give her a normal life. The operatives had objected to this move, stating that in this world, you should trust yourself alone. He didn't listen, gave them one of his nonchalant grins and headed for the door; the ring with a simple diamond in the middle was in his hand.

 

He had booked a hotel room, treat her to a fancy candle lit dinner, bring her a bouquet of roses and propose. He had it all planned out down to the tiniest detail. Out of trust, he didn't bring his Deagle, thinking that the sight of the gun would only scare her. How wrong he was on that one. He didn't notice anything wrong with her, not even a bead of perspiration on her forehead, not even an anxious glance. He did notice that smile she wore was extra sweet and she did everything extra nice but he thought that it was because he had treated her out. After dinner, he had switched the lights off, led her to the bed and opened a small lamp by the table. When he turned his attention towards her, two small daggers had sliced through the air. If he had been delayed by a few seconds, the daggers would have been buried in his face and not in the wall behind him. It did manage to graze his face, cutting through the skin and leaving deep gashes that would never heal. Inside his head, he was still processing what had taken place, filled with hows and whys mostly, but his body had taken action. Overturning the table, he rushed forward and took that nimble neck in his hands which ended in a dull snap in his ears. He looked down at her beautiful face twisted in a weird angle with her shapely body lying straight and still on the floor. He took off, called the operatives of the incident and got a reprimand for the costly `cleaning up' they had to do for his mess. He shrugged and laughed it off but inside he was dying again. He was slowly dying like a rat drowning in the sewers of these streets.

 

Involuntarily, his hand touched the two downward scars on his face. Hakkai had politely ignored it, not wanting to pry into his private life, not wanting to pressure him to open up. They were partners, lovers or whatever commitment they had to each other but Gojyo still thought that there were a lot of things left unsaid between them, pretty much like Goku and Sanzo, maybe even more. He was different from Hakkai. He was deformed by these scars and that made him ugly compared to the almost perfect being with his smooth and supple skin, his gracefully soft hair and that beautiful face. Maybe he didn't deserve Hakkai, didn't deserve such a beautiful person in his life.

 

“Seem deep in thought, Gojyo,” Hakkai observed, tearing him from his thoughts. “Is there anything wrong?”

 

“Nah, nothing's wrong,” he lied and grinned at him. Hakkai didn't seem to believe him but smiled back instead. He felt relieved that Hakkai wasn't the prodding type. He'd just wait for you until you were comfortable in your own skin to shed it on your own.

 

“I just noticed that when you get upset, your eye color turns a shade deeper,” came the unassuming observation accompanied with that polite smile. “I've seen it quite often especially when I count your cigarette sticks for you or when I tell you that I really think that the world will be better off without butane gas.”

 

He kept silent, knowing that Hakkai wouldn't insist on talking about the topic if he didn't feel like talking about it. Sure enough, Hakkai backed off and gave him a smile, slightly tinged with sadness around the corners. The smaller man approached him slowly and linked an arm around his waist and stared out the window with him.

 

“How many sticks have you had, Gojyo?” came the teasing-toned question. He laughed and pulled the other man closer. He didn't want to say it but he just knew how to make you feel a little better always. Maybe now a smile wouldn't be that hard to come by.

 

---

 

When Sanzo walked into the bedroom, Goku had fallen asleep with a book in his hands. He was suppose to tell him that break—brunch was ready and was also going to tell him a piece of his mind, saying things like they aren't ready to discuss such things at a time like this but the younger man's sleeping figure caught him off guard.

 

It has been six years and Goku has grown into a beautiful young man, with his chocolate brown hair and mesmerizing golden eyes. He had taken care of the boy over the years, taking care of him like a little brother, a friend, a partner. And now having these feelings flood him whenever he stared into those golden orbs, he felt incestuous. He shouldn't react like this to Goku's touch, to them sleeping in one bed, to feel Goku snuggle against him. He shouldn't feel lust, love or whatever it is, throbbing in his veins. But he did, and every time Goku smiled at him, wrapped him in an embrace, lace their fingers together, he could feel it. And he could also feel the painful ache whenever the young man would frown or pout or fight with him. He hated to admit it but he had fallen in love with the noisy, gluttonous, loving and warm young man.

 

During the first few days they were together, the boy was withdrawn. He would silently stare at him whenever he entered the room, would quietly go about his business and not even daring to look him in the eye. He would hardly touch the books he had brought home for him, only sitting in the couch and absently watching TV. Sanzo found it hard whenever he would receive a nod or a shake of the head whenever he asked a question or most of the time a shrug or a stare. Do you like fried chicken for dinner? Shrug. How about braised beef and fried rice? Shrug. What do you want, you can tell me, you know. Stare. He didn't want to prod the boy, afraid that he would become more withdrawn towards him. He tried his best to make the child open up on his own but the books along with the toys where rarely used let alone played with. Sometimes he felt that the boy had more respect for the TV and the bed than for him. Even though he grew more and more frustrated at his failed attempts, he never gave up.

 

During the night when they were going to sleep, he would tuck him in bed and leave a glass of water by his bedside. As the boy enjoyed the comforts of the bed, he would have to do with the hard and lumpy couch. Until several weeks later, he woke up with the boy sleeping by his side, sitting on the floor and the small brown head lying by his. What caught his attention more was the fact that the boy's hand was in his, fingers laced together. The following day, the boy woke up and went back to his normal routine but this time, had more syllables coming out of his mouth like yes, no, I guess and okay. True, they have come a long way from that one-word answers.

 

And as he sat on the bed beside the sleeping young man, he placed a hand softly on his head, brushing back the warm brown hair. It was difficult not to fall in love with someone like him, given that he was always boisterous and gave Sanzo a headache but had managed to place a smile on his lips once too often. The moment he saw Goku being paraded like a piece of meat, those golden orbs silently pleading to be saved had wretched his heart from his body. He had spent the whole day and the next day preparing himself to save Goku from the hands of that bastard Johanssen. During that time, it was more of an obligation to save the innocent young child. But as the days turned into weeks and months and years, he learned that the moment he saw him, he had fallen for the boy. He didn't know what to think, only what to feel and he knew that this young man was his life.

 

“Sanzo.” His name rolled sleepily off Goku's tongue and landed sweetly on his ears. He looked down and saw a pair of honey-coated eyes sleepily gazing up at him. The soft lips slowly curved up into a small smile.

 

“Brunch is ready,” he said softly, his own lips forming a smile. Goku once told him that he looked like a psychopath when he grinned given that his eyes drooped a little at the corners, giving him a mean look even if he was just ordering bread or reading the newspaper. But he also told him that when he smiled, the sincere ones, he actually looked beautiful especially since his blond hair gave him an angelic look. This boy really knew how to flatter him and said boy was lifting his head up to rest on his lap. He shifted uncomfortably, afraid that within minutes his body might start to react without his consent.

 

“Will we be going with Hakkai back to their base?”

 

“Do you want to go with Hakkai back to their base?” Sanzo asked, repeating his statement as if he was talking with a child. He used to do this to annoy Goku and smirked when the boy started violently, pouting and staring hard at him.

 

“Sanzo, stop fooling around,” he had said with a fold of his arms over his chest. “So are we going?”

 

“It would be better if we went with them. It would be safer for us if we had more help going around. But if you don't want to go with them, we'll get by the way we used to.”

 

“I guess it'd be better with them around, you know, not just because of the threat and everything but it's kinda nice having people like us around.”

 

“People like us?” Sanzo echoed and looked surprised. “How so?”

 

“I don't really know how to explain, I just feel it in my bones,” Goku admitted and for that received a thwack on the head. “OW! What was that for?”

 

“For thinking too much and not being able to explain it,” Sanzo said and ruffled the boy's already messy hair. “Come on, before the food gets too cold for your taste.”

 

---

 

Hakkai pondered on the statement Gojyo made while he was brushing his hair. The red-head had pointed out that he didn't look like he was twenty-two, more of a twenty. And that he didn't look like he's been in this business for so long. How long has it been anyway? Nine years? Twelve? He didn't know, maybe because he stopped counting as soon as he started. Gojyo had fallen asleep on his lap and here he was doing some passing research on the Council, something to take his mind off his thoughts. But hard as he try, his mind seems to keep on floating back to those dark moments in his life.

 

Though his father did put him through rough times, he never hated him for that. He just felt alienated from him but the man still gained respect from the soon to be infamous assassin. He never got a gentle touch from his father or a caring smile. But he did receive a lot of unforgettable advises from him, some he still keeps in mind until now. His father knew the waters he was going to trudge in and felt that his son wasn't as prepared as he looked like. He told him never to trust anyone at all unless he was sure and to be sure he had to listen to his heart. He closed himself off the way his father had, shunning any form of emotion as he went on his job. It was true, go into shock and then just move on. It would be less painful if you just did your job and not have the heart to feel anything about it. He always thought how he could still be alive when his heart had already stopped beating. Then one day, a feisty, arrogant red-head managed to put the beat back in the cold lump of stone.

 

“Sorry, beautiful,” was the insolent remark he had heard as the taller man accidentally ran into him. If he wasn't in a hurry he would have made that pretty mouth of his all bloody and red. He managed to forget about the incident until a couple of months later when Lirin called for an important meeting. When he walked into the conference room and saw the same despicable man and he couldn't help but let out a few strings of protests. And what agitated him even more was the smug smile playing on this so-called Sha Gojyo's face. The nerve to find his anger to be amusing, it irritated him even more. Whenever he met Gojyo along the corridors of the building, he'd just continue to stare on even if the red-head would greet him with a casual `hello' or `what's up'. If there was any possibility of being teamed up, he'd politely decline.

 

Looking down at the innocent face lying on his lap, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Had he known that there was a sweet, good-natured young man beneath the cool and arrogant exterior, he wouldn't have made his life so miserable. He slowly turned the laptop off and brushed the few stray hair on his face, contemplating on how hard their lives must be, all tangled up in a web of deaths and pain. Sometimes he'd think that maybe they were fated to meet each other, knowing each other one time in their lives only to find that the spider's web had weaved them together from the beginning. Had they met in a different situation, would things be the same?

 

“Oi, don't poke my eye out,” Gojyo said sleepily. Hakkai quickly retracted his hand and found that his thumb had been resting on Gojyo's left eye. “Zoning out seems to be pretty common between us today, huh?”

 

“At least, I don't do the zoning out with a cigarette stick in between my lips,” he answered with a smile. Gojyo laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. The taste of the Hi-Lites was just a faint reminder of the cigarette stick he had smoked just before he had gone to sleep.

 

“You seem troubled,” Gojyo commented and stared deep into his eyes. That was one thing about Gojyo, he can't seem to hide anything from the red-head and neither can he. Even if he smiled to show he was okay, there always seemed to be something Gojyo would see or at least catch on.

 

“You probably noticed because you were thinking the same thing awhile ago, right? Isn't it like the flu, Gojyo? It catches on to people,” he said with the same soft smile. Gojyo settled back onto his lap and looked at him thoughtfully.

 

“It's a natural occurrence, the zoning out thing, but thinking about the same thing could be a viral one,” Gojyo joked and held one of his hands. “There's a reason for everything, Hakkai. Or at least, that's what I try to make myself believe.”

 

“So you mean this whole thing we're involved in isn't such a bad thing after all?”

 

“Depends on how you look at it,” Gojyo answered. “Killing isn't actually something we teach our kids nowadays but killing on the side of justice makes it somehow acceptable, right? Well as long as I can sleep at night and not have my conscience bother me every time I close my eyes, this whole thing is something I can live with. I just remind myself that hey, someone has to take the trash out right?”

 

He couldn't agree more.

 

Meanwhile…

 

“Oi Goku, take the trash out. You know how the landlord gets all pissy when we don't take the garbage out for collection,” Sanzo interrupted his reading and motioned for him to take it outside.

 

“But we'll be leaving tomorrow, why take the trash out?” Goku complained as he set his book down and walked over to the small metal bin by the sink. “Why do I have to do it when you're already standing there?”

 

“Because I'm having a smoke,” Sanzo replied with a smug grin. Goku frowned and dragged the metal bin outside. “Oi remember to tie the ends close, so that it won't spill over,” the blond called out as he stepped out of the room.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he turned the doorknob he had just turned a right to walk down the corridor when a barrage of blades rained upon him, tearing through the door, the trash can and his shirt. Several of these small daggers struck the wood so hard that even Sanzo had to peak from the kitchen to see what was happening. Not even a word escaped his mouth, all Goku could do was fall in a pile on the floor.

 

He could faintly recall gunfire and the outline of a man's shadow disappear from the window sill near the corridor's fire escape. He could hear Sanzo calling his name but he seemed so far away, as if he did not own the body lying in a pool of blood, cradled softly by a panicked blond man. Goku continued to watch the scene of a boy with needle-like blades sticking out of his body, with a pale young man trying to shake him awake, calling his name over and over again. He could dimly see a trail of tears running down the beautiful face of the blond.

 

…am I going to die?

 

But I haven't even told Sanzo… I can't die…but I feel so weak…just a little sleep, I guess…

 

Like sleep coming to him, he slowly became detached from the waking world, allowing the dreamless sleep to envelope him, hoping to wake up to find Sanzo by his side, snuggling close to him and breathing his name in his ear. With a soft sigh, Goku's eyes finally closed, his hand quietly gripping the bloodied ones of the taller man. And as he continued to fall in the darkness, he failed to hear the anguished and angry cry that tore from Sanzo's lips when the young man turned limp in his hands.

 

Sanzo…my Angel, my Sun…Sanzo…

 

…am I going to die?

 

To be continued…

 

[1] I would like to thank Intora for writing a review on how to make this story better. I really appreciate it. I hope I've incorporated your suggestions properly in this chapter. Otherwise, feel free to tell me what you think. Ü

[2] I would also like to thank libellule, the bear, oniisan26 for the comments they have posted on my other stories.Ü

[3] Thanks to everyone who had followed the development of this story. Feel free to comment on parts you think needs improvement. After all, I am doing this for our enjoyment. (^_^) peace y'all!