Rambly, because I felt like it, and damn it, it just fits.

 

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Never Ending Ties

 

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1-

 

There’s not really much of a difference in the rain, even if it feels like there should be. It seems heavier around the dying man, as if his own anguish is dragging the water from the heavens that much faster, that much harder, and the almost-corpse is just waiting for one droplet to be hard enough to finally kill him.

 

This first time, when he catches sight of the drenched, bloody man with the fiercely dangerous but empty green eyes, somewhere at the very bottom of the bucket of his brain, a voice that was his (but not) snorted and said “Just typical for this to be how we meet again. Dramatic, fucking painful...and wet.” This voice of his has a slightly different accent- an almost unnoticeable sharpness to some sounds, others that bit lazier- and a note of fondness to it that Gojyo has never had in relation to anyone. Ever.

 

Not that Gojyo notices any of this, of course, as he’s too busy staring at the bitter creature lying on the ground, eyes both daring and begging him for death. Gojyo has many thoughts, ranging from “Why the fuck are they always in MY way?” through “Man, does this guy look like shit or what?” and even to “Those eyes are…something.”

 

But even though Gojyo can’t hear that not-his-but-his voice, even though he’s never even considered the possibility of having one, he knows it.

 

This man, right here, is special.

 

It’s almost like he’s been possessed to a point, because the thought of simply walking by never occurs to him, and if the thought of putting the man out of his misery had popped into his mind it would have sounded sacrilegious down to his very soul. So instead, he grabs the man (surprisingly light…or maybe not, with how much blood’s been turned into a slowly pinking puddle where the man had lain), notices his eyes are a fuck-me kind of drowsy green, and carries him all the way home.

 

He doesn’t think it’s strange to strip the dying, unconscious man of his clothing and bandage him up. It doesn’t seem strange that he knows exactly how much bandage Mr. Green-eyes will need around his torso, his arms, his forehead. Or that he doesn’t make up a cot for himself – or for the stranger.

 

As if he’s done this plenty times before, like it’s just a normal thing, he simply pulls a chair up next to the bed and waits, a pack of cigarettes on one side and a deck of cards on the other, uncut and pristine, in the center of the wood, like the dying man in his bed will simply wake up and ante at any moment.

 

And when he finally does wake up, that unheard his-but-not voice seems very proud of itself, saying things like “Took him long enough.” and “Why the HELL did he get rain?” but always in that amused, doting near-identical voice that Gojyo wouldn’t know, wouldn’t hear, and would probably not be very happy about.

 

It’s the first time Gojyo lets himself drop off to sleep when those dreams start, not his usual dreams, where they’re wet one or the other way, from tears or fucking, and he finds himself not really minding, since it’s almost a replay of meeting old Green-eyes, except things are different, things are…strangely, the same.

 

He’s the one on the ground now, feeling that pathetic weakness as his blood weeps out onto a cement-looking ground, his entire being centered on staying awake, staying propped up on the building, staying alive even because there’s just that one other thing he has to do or it’d really, really suck to die even though it’d be so much easier.

 

Then, through the blurry darkness that eats away at the edges of his eyes, there’s a face. Since he’s lost a lot of blood and that tends to fuck people’s minds up pretty well from what he’s heard he figures it’s okay that the first thought that manages to wriggle out is “PRETTY.” He regrets that it’s blurry, and dark, and cold, because he can’t see more than the face, those glassed-over eyes, that absolutely breathtaking hair that he wants like he only wants two other things right then (life and that one tiny other little thing he has to do) but he thinks maybe, just maybe, there might be even more to want, and decides to see it just as soon as he can keep his eyes open, if they ever do open again, because fuck, that bastard’s sword was a hell of a lot more painful than he’d thought it would be.

 

And when Gojyo wakes up he’s still got a tiny, secretive smile on his lips and can’t for the life of him think of what deserved it.

 

2-

 

It’s not much longer before Green-eyes decides to grace the world with his waking presence, and it’s a biting one, like a suicidal panther caged in bloody sheets. Makes Gojyo wonder if there’d really been a point in all the bandaging if the bastard was going to politely hate him for it. But he keeps on bandaging anyway because he can’t imagine doing anything else, and it seems like Mr. Corpse starts hating him less and less, and things settle down into a bizarrely natural routine that neither even noticed until his stranger broke it by asking where he kept his socks now.

 

Gojyo and Green-eyes ended up blinking at each other for a minute, since it seemed absolutely, ridiculously fucked up that His Bandageness wouldn’t know his socks were kept in the upper right drawer and they both knew it. Just like how Gojyo knew to buy his guest three shirts instead of two, didn’t really need to wonder about either pants or boxers because he knew those sizes too, didn’t have to ask if the guy wanted to cook (because he ALWAYS was going to cook, and they both just knew it), didn’t wonder about why he felt so blissfully REVENGED every time Green-eyes frowned at a cigarette in an empty beer bottle, every time he asked Gojyo to step away from the food before he got ashes in it, because deep down inside he felt like there was something so utterly spectacular about getting comeuppance for something he couldn’t remember.

 

He doesn’t ask the guy’s name and the guy doesn’t ask why Gojyo picked him up (or hasn’t yet at least) and they don’t question what doesn’t need to be because that’s what seems to be working. They talk when they talk, they eat when they eat, they play cards when they want, and their business is their own unless they want to share. And it doesn’t strike as odd that they share more often than not since that’s just the way things went and complicating something so sinfully easy with names and places and attachments seemed worse than getting the important things and moving on.

 

But there is something just WRONG about how he goes to sleep after his injured houseguest, like he’s missing something very big and very important. And he knows it’s something stupid too, because somewhere deep down inside him a voice identical to his is laughing its ass off every time Gojyo just plops down on the couch for another bout of psychotic dreams where Mr. Corpse is wearing smooth black leather and has sinfully silky long hair and scares people with his cigarette smiles as sharp as that lovely sword of his that for some reason Gojyo finds himself almost proud of in those strange, rambling, nonsensical dreams he can never fully remember.

 

Tonight, it’s a very strange one, one that has him sweating and panting and scrounging for someone in the middle of the night and remembering fire and smoke and silk and salt and that once upon a time it was very, very easy to get very, very drunk if you wanted to…and very, very easy to be very, very sober if that was your choice.

 

And suddenly after he wakes up, that bucket of his mind is rattling like someone at the very bottom is violently dancing around in glee, smashing into the sides, stomping on the base, and having about as much fun as he was allowed to have before tonight.

 

But Gojyo just smokes and goes back to sleep, muttering to himself that one fucking dream wasn’t going to change anything, really, and that he didn’t think Mr. Dead Green-eyes would like to hear about it either since dreams were pretty random and flighty and what they had going seemed like a long-term kind of thing.

 

3-

 

It’s the next day when that fake-ass priest and his monkey shows up that things REALLY start to get fucked up.

 

“Who the hell are you…?”

 

“ ‘The Rambunctious General’. That includes the lower half of the body.”

 

“………”

 

He’d call it a flashback if anything seemed to actually flash but it was more like he just suddenly remembered something absolutely bizarre and absolutely hilarious, of idiots trying to pick on him and No-Name Kitchen Man and the weird monkey boy in the middle of a crowd. It was a feeling and spoken words and the angry growl of a crowd but mostly he remembered the longhaired Green-eyes’ words and they stuck, they stuck somewhere deep where they’d always been and he’d never recognized it before.

 

“Whoever holds a grudge against me from daily life, come against me all at once!”

 

“There you go again, challenging them…”

 

“This is so much fun!”

 

“Whoa~! Seems like you’ve been incurring a lot of hatred among the people.”

 

“SHUT UP! A grudge against me is the same as a grudge against you!”

 

“What? We had that kind of matrimonial relationship between us? That’s unexpected!”

 

And the shit priest jumped in to ask about Cho Gonou and things just got more and more fucked from there because really things like mass murder and trials weren’t supposed to screw with this nice thing he’d had going no matter how hot the bastards were. He finds himself brutally chopping at the long hair that took so long to grow and switching his brand of cigarette and packing up every item he’s ever owned and heading for Chang’An to try and mount some sort of rescue attempt.

 

But before he could go attack the most heavily guarded Buddhist temple in the world, a man named Cho Hakkai stole his apple. And since Cho Hakkai happened to have short brown hair, a politely evil smile, one real fuck-me green eye and a new fuck-me green transplant complete with an ungodly hot monocle, Gojyo got the pleasant surprise of not having to run into a hopeless situation simply because he couldn’t imagine not doing so.

 

Where the nameless green-eyed man he’d picked up off the mud and blood of the road was an empty self-destructive shell, Hakkai was full of a strangely cold energy that was like silver under a neon light, smooth and hard and brilliant with a dangerous glare to it, and utterly hypnotic.

 

So they moved closer to Chang’An because the hot bastard of a priest and his pet monkey lived there and really aside from the whole trying to kill each other thing from before they really weren’t that bad, plus Hakkai liked them and in Gojyo’s book that pretty much erased any other points against someone. And the three of them (and the monkey but he didn’t really count since he didn’t get to drink) went barhopping every now and then but really it wasn’t very effective since it took a hell of a lot of liquor to get Sanzo or Gojyo drunk and they had never even seen Hakkai more than buzzed and that was after they cleared out an entire bar from sheer curiosity and really all it did was make Hakkai kind of giggly which was fucking cute but not particularly worth the cost of almost two gallons of hard booze, especially since they had little to no money in the first place.

 

When they really needed money they’d go gambling and clear out entire hotels, which was pretty refreshing for Gojyo to know he was the only person who could even occasionally win against Hakkai’s impossible luck and that he could in fact still maim other people’s bank accounts with his own none-too-shabby poker skills. But that was only when they were desperate since Hakkai tended to be an unnaturally moral person so they ended up selling things instead, starting with that stupid statue (Gojyo had no clue where he’d gotten it) and the extra rug they’d had nowhere to put.

 

After Hakkai’s seventh rejection as a teacher since he was a demon (and really, Gojyo had warned the poor guy but he was too stubborn for his own good) they ended up selling the second bed and ignored the stares that the pawn shop owner kept giving them after that, even though Gojyo couldn’t figure out if it was the idea of them sharing one bed or the obvious value of the other. But it kept them going for another few months since he’d bought that bed at an old rich hag’s estate sale and it was probably worth more than their apartment. Sure it felt weird to sleep in the same bed as the same person, especially when he wasn’t fucking said person, but it was Hakkai and Hakkai didn’t seem to mind when they’d wake up slightly tangled up with each other on cold nights.

 

And when Hakkai got accepted on the twelfth try and they finally had some sort of income they just never got around to replacing the bed.

 

4-

 

While his life got better and better the dreams got worse and worse to the point where even if he couldn’t remember the names and places and dates and faces he knew exactly what sort of noise the long-haired Hakkai would make if he licked him just so right there and it was silently driving Gojyo mad that he didn’t know if this Hakkai made the same little pants and moans as his alter-ego dream-version did.

 

He grew his hair back out for three reasons- to annoy the priest, as a reminder to himself and others that his life was still very dangerous and very forbidden, and as a strange sort of remembrance to the long-haired Hakkai who smoked almost as much as Gojyo and had the same lovely features as his Hakkai-Hakkai. And then there was the fourth reason that he’d never admit to, where he did it just to put some sort of barrier between him and those LOOKS Hakkai gave him sometimes that drove him up a wall because damn it he didn’t know what the fuck they meant, and he had ideas ranging from ‘you’re an idiot, I hate you’ to ‘fuck me here right now’. Shit, he hoped it wasn’t the second one, because he knew he’d do it and that was the first step down a very dangerous new road towards a different sort of relationship and he was just fine with the one he had right now.

 

But time went on. One day Hakkai just had a dragon in the apartment, introduced it as “Jeep”, asked it to be nice and polite to Gojyo, gave it a pillow to sleep on, and life continued. Hakkai cooked, Gojyo ate, and the world went a little crazier every moment.

 

The Minus Wave wasn’t suddenly just THERE or anything else they might tell you. No, it was a gradual thing nobody even noticed up until their next-door neighbor ate the landlady. Shinn had been a good guy, so they really did feel bad about killing him, and especially with how pathetically one-sided a fight it had been – Sa Gojyo, only living taboo child, and Cho Hakkai, human-turned-demon killer, up against a thirty-year-old demon with more blubber than brains.

 

And then Sanzo called and told them they had to go on some shitty holy quest to kill a demon king Gyumaoh or something and suddenly he, Hakkai, and that monkey Goku weren’t themselves, they were “Sanzo’s Group” or “Sanzo’s Party” or “Sanzo’s Disciples” (which Gojyo fucking hated) but nobody ever corrected the idiotic populous as they rode around the world trying to get to India and getting the shit beaten out of them while they did it.

 

But for some stupid reason it all felt perfectly right to be stuck with them, so he didn’t complain. Much.

 

5-

 

Fighting with Hakkai – either with or against, it didn’t matter, really – was like putting on an old glove he’d never owned. They didn’t even have to look to see where the other was sometimes, when the moments seemed to shift somehow and it was as if he was living some strange replay of one of those psychotic dreams with their silhouettes flickering from light cloth to heavy leather, Hakkai’s explosive hands shifting and holding an elegant katana, his own morphing into an archaic-looking golden gun.

 

But every time he was injured or beaten or knocked out or had the shit kicked out of him, he had the same dream, and it terrified him.

 

Dying HURTS. And it’s even worse when you’re being massacred by a ten-year-old kid who called you “Ken Nii-chan” when you were supposed to be immortal just like Tenpou who was bleeding on the ground next to you and staring with wide eyes as your youngest friend’s fist punches through your stomach and out the other side and you drop to the ground beside your lover whose horrified beautiful green eyes are all for him and not noticing the others swarming around their friend because they’re dying and bleeding and what did Kenren have to give so Tenpou would survive because fuck if he was going to let the best thing in the known universe go down for absolutely no reason when there had to be some way to save him before the darkness ate away the rest of their vision and the panic and pain lacing through his veins and shit TENPOU

 

So he’d jerk up in bed no matter what the injury, sweating and freaked and panicking before he realized that was Tenpou-Hakkai in the dream and not Hakkai-Hakkai who was usually sitting or sleeping nearby because that’s just what they did for each other. Gojyo would get five uninterrupted minutes of staring at Hakkai to reassure himself this was the live Hakkai-Hakkai version whether Hakkai was awake or not, and then the brunet would do whatever the hell he needed to (usually either more sadistically tight bandaging or a good five-minute politely vicious reprimand) and for five more minutes Gojyo wouldn’t fuss or complain about it.

 

He can’t remember when the touches began to linger or why the glances turned into something different or who the first girl he picked up just for green eyes was but they make sure not to mention it and try not to show it when everyone else is around and try not to think of it when they’re sleeping so close he can watch Hakkai’s eyes jerk and flutter and the corners of his mouth twitch and his lips part just that much so that it would take almost all of Gojyo’s willpower to keep from pressing forward just that little bit and close that gap that inch of tense infinity that stretched between them now.

 

It’s on one of those faceless thousand nights when he wakes up to see Hakkai looking down at him with that soft Hakkai smile and those too-intense of green eyes that he’s probably always been in love with ever since Tenpou in that alley and ever since Hakkai in the forest and ever since every other moment and voiceless whisper between them and it’s all of that and more when he says in that soul-stealing voice “Would you be terribly upset if I kissed you?” and doesn’t even wait for an answer before their lips are frantically beautifully perfectly smashed together with hands and fingers and cloth and it’s so much better than all the dreams or whatever he wants to call them because Hakkai is Hakkai yet Tenpou as well and it’s not quite the same sounds and shivers and it’s the tiny differences the Gojyo knows he’s already addicted to, another thing to add to the list, but he doesn’t really mind this addiction no not in the least.

 

It was always there anyway.

 

With as incredible kissing Hakkai was Gojyo still wanted more so when they both ended up giddy and shuddering together in a messed bed and not caring a bit about it even though Hakkai was obviously already budgeting in the sheets for tomorrow’s laundry but that was just the Hakkai thing to do so he laughed a stupidly happy laugh and kissed him again because that was just the way things were supposed to be between them regardless of hair and uniforms and weapons and ever-blooming cherry blossoms or not.

 

And in the morning there wasn’t anything uncomfortable about it since Hakkai was already up and back from a bath and was cleaning Jeep and gave Gojyo one of those really happy Hakkai smiles that still made his heart twist and gave him another kiss but this one with the new taste of mint toothpaste and handed Gojyo a towel and pointed him towards the bathroom so he could get the sheets off the bed because really Goku was already eating the inn out of a week’s worth of food and they didn’t have to put up with extra work on laundry as well. So if Gojyo noticed the sheets were the cleanest thing he’d seen since they started this stupid journey or that Hakkai and probably himself he’d admit were still grinning like the love struck idiots they were for damn near a month afterwards and that Hakkai suddenly wants groceries from the top or bottom shelf more often he doesn’t bother pointing it out since it doesn’t seem worth it to comment, especially since what they’ve got going on seems like a nice long-term kind of thing and he’d really prefer to keep it that way.

 

6-

 

Gojyo died first. And then he wasn’t Gojyo any more.

 

It was like a really bad couple of photocopies stood in front of him. On the left was the dream-him named Kenren who had black hair and black leather and a different smirk than his usual, one that was both haughty and dismissive at the same time it managed to be both welcoming and scary. On the right was the life-him named Gojyo with red hair and red eyes and a smirk that was downright raunchy yet somehow bitter with a violent twist of amusement in the eyes. And to the right of that one was a misty, SHORT version of him (but young too apparently from what he could judge from the shoulders) that seemed to slide away from his vision when he tried to look at it more clearly.

 

And while he looked at his selves, Hakkai died.

 

There was Hakkai, and Tenpou to Hakkai’s left and a TALL version of Hakkai to the right of Hakkai-Hakkai and standing in front of the three was…Hakkai-ness. That was all he could think to describe it. Chin-length black-brown hair with a strange pair of glasses, right lens whole, left a half lens reminiscent of a librarian, an amused smile on his lips and ALL naked which Gojyo-ness approved heartily of.

 

“You’re dark purple,” Hakkai-ness stated, and so he was, dark purple eyes and dark purple hair and yep, they were both naked.

 

“You’re naked,” Gojyo-ness pointed out, since Hakkai-ness didn’t seem to really see the value in the obvious fact while Gojyo-ness couldn’t help but see all the thrilling opportunities it presented.

 

“How astute,” Hakkai-ness said with a smile. “I see you are as well. This will be an interesting next bit of time, won’t it?”

 

Gojyo-ness was kind of hoping for that, anyway, since as far as he could see an existence without Hakkai-ness would be mind-numbingly boring anyway. Not that he was worried about that or anything since there was another even blurrier figure after the already-blurry ones and a line of fuzz after them that seemed to continue forever.

 

“Heh,” Gojyo-ness smiled, reaching out to toy with Hakkai-ness’ bizarrely attractive glasses. “We are a long-term thing, aren’t we?”

 

And the smile he got answered any question he could ever ask.