Blood in the Rain 2/?
By Nix Winter
Disclaimers: I don't own Saiyuki and I know very well I should be writing about Taylish and Opal, other characters that I do own, and I will.
Warnings: Neeeeee.. I have written het stuff, but only for money. Well, except for Reasons to be Queen, that is. I write shonen ai, because. some bent in my own soul, some acid in my own blood makes me crave the equality in same sex relationships, some hope for trust, I think. However, as I write this, I am edging towards more of an equal opportunity gender preference. This Gojyo he loves this Hakkai because of the loyalty, trust, purity of Hakkai and it really would not have mattered what Hakkai's gender was. I don't know if Gojyo would want to have children anyway, given the harshness their world gives to mixed breed people. Anyway. so I'm learning as I write this, if you enjoy reading it as well, then the life has given me more than I expected.
Neee. and these bits are going to be short. sorry.
Part Two
My fingers twitched for a cigarette. Six days into this rescue mission, and I'd been around the mental hamster wheel too many times to count. It would have been different if he'd died. I mean, get attracted to some guy who's dying, he dies, no one ever knows, you forget about it, it's not so bad. But. He's not going to die. My fingers want to touch his hair again, more than they want a cigarette.
You see, I have this image of me in my head, and I like it. Those empty words from that woman, her thinking my hair and eyes are beautiful, empty words that drove me into the forest in the rain, they were words I used to bleed my living out of the world. I have beautiful hair, beautiful eyes. I can trace my fingers down the lines of my stomach if I hold it tight. I have a beautiful body. Guys like me aren't cheap, you know.
Maybe that's part of this delusion of mine. Guys aren't attracted to guys. They're not. So he even if he did wake up, he wouldn't want to be near me because I have beautiful eyes, killer hair. He wouldn't care about that. He's a guy.
"If this is Hell; Hell is very common place," he said, voice that slipped passed all my guards, my expectations. If his voice had been female, here's where the walls would have sprung back up, I think. That first time I heard his voice, maybe that's when my walls really cracked.
"Well, excuse me for keeping the place so plain!" He caught me by surprise though, laying there in my bed, when his eyes opened the first time, looking at the mess of my beer and magazines. Green eyes, jewels, so not what I expected.
The words came out almost as a taunt and I was leaning forward, hands on the bed on either side of his head, and gods, I just had to look at those eyes. I'd expected them to be brown, like his hair, not these green windows into a soul I wasn't good enough to touch. I needed my walls! "You sure took your sweet time waking up."
Distance, like those eyes were hot, some kind of green fire, and Gojyo found himself sitting, back to the bed, cigarette pack smacking against his fingers. No touching brown hair again, never again. Cigarettes would have to do. "The doctor said you needed your rest and I couldn't smoke. Well, I'm smoking now. Believe me! You got that!"
"Go right ahead," he said, that same gentle loyalty like a mist around his words, tolerant and so fucking real, kind, genuine.
For just a second, I think that acid of frustrated hate in my blood will boil over. But then, we're talking. He's drinking my coffee and telling me about Her. Days slip by, so natural and so easy.
If someday, I'm sitting in the rain, maybe I'll think about these conversations. It goes like this. I say something. He listens, and says something back. He ain't trying to get something from me, ain't trying to sell me something. And as the days passed between us, I couldn't believe two things. One, he could beat me at cards. No one beats me at cards. And two, he knew.
He knows I'm attracted to him. Maybe he can see my pulse beat faster when he wakes up, or when I hand him coffee. He's not human, so maybe he can fucking smell my attraction to him. He just smiles back at me, no revulsion, no returning of my attraction either. That's best, I guess. I mean, if he wanted to make like rabbits with me, it would be empty, wouldn't it? Just pretty hair, pretty eyes, not cheap. He smiles too much. When he smiles, it makes my guts dance around, my breath flicker, and then I smile back like some dumb ass kid. He knows. I know he knows.
I wouldn't know how to kiss him, even if he'd let me. I mean. When I kiss a girl, I'm thinking. how do I touch her to make her whimper and sigh, I'm thinking, how do I keep the illusion that I'm beautiful, that I've valuable. How do I kiss someone, if maybe, just maybe, it's not an illusion?
He smiles at me. He wants to talk.
"You leaving?"
"Yup."
How do I ask to kiss someone if it's not an illusion?
Disclaimers: I don't own Saiyuki and I know very well I should be writing about Taylish and Opal, other characters that I do own, and I will.
Warnings: Neeeeee.. I have written het stuff, but only for money. Well, except for Reasons to be Queen, that is. I write shonen ai, because. some bent in my own soul, some acid in my own blood makes me crave the equality in same sex relationships, some hope for trust, I think. However, as I write this, I am edging towards more of an equal opportunity gender preference. This Gojyo he loves this Hakkai because of the loyalty, trust, purity of Hakkai and it really would not have mattered what Hakkai's gender was. I don't know if Gojyo would want to have children anyway, given the harshness their world gives to mixed breed people. Anyway. so I'm learning as I write this, if you enjoy reading it as well, then the life has given me more than I expected.
Neee. and these bits are going to be short. sorry.
Part Two
My fingers twitched for a cigarette. Six days into this rescue mission, and I'd been around the mental hamster wheel too many times to count. It would have been different if he'd died. I mean, get attracted to some guy who's dying, he dies, no one ever knows, you forget about it, it's not so bad. But. He's not going to die. My fingers want to touch his hair again, more than they want a cigarette.
You see, I have this image of me in my head, and I like it. Those empty words from that woman, her thinking my hair and eyes are beautiful, empty words that drove me into the forest in the rain, they were words I used to bleed my living out of the world. I have beautiful hair, beautiful eyes. I can trace my fingers down the lines of my stomach if I hold it tight. I have a beautiful body. Guys like me aren't cheap, you know.
Maybe that's part of this delusion of mine. Guys aren't attracted to guys. They're not. So he even if he did wake up, he wouldn't want to be near me because I have beautiful eyes, killer hair. He wouldn't care about that. He's a guy.
"If this is Hell; Hell is very common place," he said, voice that slipped passed all my guards, my expectations. If his voice had been female, here's where the walls would have sprung back up, I think. That first time I heard his voice, maybe that's when my walls really cracked.
"Well, excuse me for keeping the place so plain!" He caught me by surprise though, laying there in my bed, when his eyes opened the first time, looking at the mess of my beer and magazines. Green eyes, jewels, so not what I expected.
The words came out almost as a taunt and I was leaning forward, hands on the bed on either side of his head, and gods, I just had to look at those eyes. I'd expected them to be brown, like his hair, not these green windows into a soul I wasn't good enough to touch. I needed my walls! "You sure took your sweet time waking up."
Distance, like those eyes were hot, some kind of green fire, and Gojyo found himself sitting, back to the bed, cigarette pack smacking against his fingers. No touching brown hair again, never again. Cigarettes would have to do. "The doctor said you needed your rest and I couldn't smoke. Well, I'm smoking now. Believe me! You got that!"
"Go right ahead," he said, that same gentle loyalty like a mist around his words, tolerant and so fucking real, kind, genuine.
For just a second, I think that acid of frustrated hate in my blood will boil over. But then, we're talking. He's drinking my coffee and telling me about Her. Days slip by, so natural and so easy.
If someday, I'm sitting in the rain, maybe I'll think about these conversations. It goes like this. I say something. He listens, and says something back. He ain't trying to get something from me, ain't trying to sell me something. And as the days passed between us, I couldn't believe two things. One, he could beat me at cards. No one beats me at cards. And two, he knew.
He knows I'm attracted to him. Maybe he can see my pulse beat faster when he wakes up, or when I hand him coffee. He's not human, so maybe he can fucking smell my attraction to him. He just smiles back at me, no revulsion, no returning of my attraction either. That's best, I guess. I mean, if he wanted to make like rabbits with me, it would be empty, wouldn't it? Just pretty hair, pretty eyes, not cheap. He smiles too much. When he smiles, it makes my guts dance around, my breath flicker, and then I smile back like some dumb ass kid. He knows. I know he knows.
I wouldn't know how to kiss him, even if he'd let me. I mean. When I kiss a girl, I'm thinking. how do I touch her to make her whimper and sigh, I'm thinking, how do I keep the illusion that I'm beautiful, that I've valuable. How do I kiss someone, if maybe, just maybe, it's not an illusion?
He smiles at me. He wants to talk.
"You leaving?"
"Yup."
How do I ask to kiss someone if it's not an illusion?