[Generic Disclaimer: Saiyuki and all the affiliated characters are copyright to Kazuya Minekura. No profit has or will be made off of this fiction.]
===
~Yellow~
Summary:
(93) Things were always running away from him.
Warnings:
PG-13, shonen ai, language
===
Butterflies were hard to catch. Gokuu
knew this, knew it like he knew that the stove was hot and a knife was sharp, but
still he reached out for them as they fluttered past, little streaks of gold
and yellow bright in the sun. He could never seem to reach them, though, and
sometimes he wondered if they were there at all: just like when he’d been on
the mountain, during that time he didn’t want to think about, it seemed like
they were always on the very edges of his fingertips–he could feel them
brushing past, soft touches on the pads of his fingers, but if he stretched
out, closed his fingers and thought he had caught one, he would only open his
hand to find out that there was nothing there at all.
Sanzou was like a butterfly: a bright yellow
butterfly, with a scowl that dampened his wings like rain and made it hard for
him to fly. Gokuu could always feel him, feel understanding
and connection hovering *just at the edge* of his consciousness–but when he
tried to fold around it, to seal it and make it real, Sanzou
would always flutter off. He didn’t want to be caught, Sanzou
didn’t. He didn’t fly very well on his own, but he sure seemed to like trying.
Things were always running away from him. Memories–brief flashes of things,
hair longer than Sanzou’s and cigarette smoke heavy
in the air, and sometimes a face before the memory vanished and he was left
shaking, feeling like he was in the cage again; time, while everyone grew up
around him and he stayed stuck here, left behind; people. Not just Sanzou, but Hakkai too, running
away and hiding with his dumb smile and his little laughs, so fake and sad, and
even Gojyou, who kept secrets and always hid behind
his hair and eyes and his stupid cloud of cigarette smoke. Even
stupid Kougaiji and stupid Lirin.
No secrets, Gokuu wanted to say. Stop hiding. Stop
running! But Sanzou didn’t listen to him, and Hakkai and Gojyou wouldn’t either.
Sometimes he thought he was close–there were times when Sanzou
looked at him with his own eyes, looking the way that Gokuu
felt, and when Sanzou looked like that it felt like
the butterfly had finally folded in its wings and settled down because it knew
it couldn’t fly anymore. But Gokuu figured what Sanzou saw when he looked at him: the stupid kid who’d been
stuck in a cage, the youkai who’d done something
really terrible, the monster you couldn’t get close to. And his eyes would
close again and it seemed like he went drifting, far, far away from Gokuu. Gokuu never knew where he
went, and Sanzou never said no matter how much he
asked him.
Sometimes Gokuu thought about how bad he must have
been in Heaven, that even on Earth people ran away
from him and hardly ever looked back.
[~:.:~]
In summer Sanzou’s bangs and sideburns were plastered
to his face with heat, and his cheeks were flushed, his hands hot when they
brushed against Gokuu’s. Gokuu
loved splashing him with water and seeing him shake like a cat, growl like a
cat; and stomp and yell at him. He didn’t brush it off, though, and that was Sanzou being Sanzou–even if
something felt good, he had to complain and act like he hadn’t liked it. Gokuu just grinned and splashed him again, and splashed the
rest of his way out of the lake to laze beside Sanzou
and bat his newspaper with two fingers.
“Whatcha reading?” he asked, and had to tuck his hand
under his stomach hastily when Sanzou squeezed his
fingers to the bone.
“Nothing a monkey would understand,” Sanzou
responded. Some water was dripping from his bangs onto the newspaper; he gave
his head a little shake, brows drawing together in irritation as he reached out
and flicked water from the pages. Gokuu set his chin
on the grass and gazed up at him, satisfied to just be looking at Sanzou–it was true, too, he didn’t like reading the
newspaper, didn’t really care what was going on anymore.
Sanzou flicked his eyes up, and his brows went down
even more. They disturbed his glasses and made them slip down again. Soon
they’d fall off his face; Gokuu wanted to reach out
and push them back up. “Stop looking at me.”
“I’m always looking at you,” said Gokuu, giving his
best kid-grin, the one that had gotten him out of trouble countless times. Sanzou hated it. “Even when you’re not
looking at me.”
“And is that supposed to make me feel happy?” Sanzou
ducked his head behind the newspaper again. “Go wash your feet. They fucking
stink.”
While he knew Sanzou was still watching, Gokuu lifted up one foot and ran his nose over the sole,
inhaling deeply; then dropped it when he heard the newspaper rustle. He rolled
onto his back and shaded his eyes from the sun, watching clouds move across the
sky; sniffed at the rain in the wind and decided they had a while left. Across
from him was the deep silence that meant Sanzou was
as pleased with his existence at the moment as he could be, since Gokuu was behaving himself and he’d had coffee and a
cigarette that morning.
I’ve caught you, thought Gokuu, digging his fingers
into the earth. But soon you’ll run again. And I’m always afraid of hurting butterflies’s wings.
[~:.:~]
Sanzou always slept on the far side of the bed at
night. Gokuu had to scoot and roll over if he wanted
to be near him, if he wanted to touch just a little of him. He fitted himself
against the curve of Sanzou’s back, resting his head
against tense shoulder muscles and running one finger over a knot by Sanzou’s neck.
“Go to sleep,” said Sanzou.
Gokuu lifted himself up on his elbow and bent over to
look at his face. “No,” he replied, touching Sanzou’s
cheek and the bridge of his nose, and dipping his finger through the line of Sanzou’s mouth until he reached teeth.
Sanzou curled his lips slightly, flashing white in
the darkness. “Not tonight.”
“I know.” Gokuu conceded to losing ground and
withdrew his finger, running it instead down Sanzou’s
chin and neck and ending up behind Sanzou’s ear, a
favorite spot. “It’s raining.”
“Oh? You think you’re awfully smart all of a sudden.” But Gokuu
hadn’t missed the change in Sanzou’s breathing. He
bit back his smile because he knew Sanzou hadn’t
missed it, either. “Get off me,” said Sanzou, lifting
his shoulder and dislodging Gokuu slightly.
Gokuu hummed, grinned, bent
his mouth to Sanzou’s neck. Sanzou’s
shoulder tensed and relaxed, and dropped back against the pillows while his
other arm raised and found Gokuu’s hip. Gokuu closed his eyes and threaded his fingers through Sanzou’s hair, rubbing its tips against his finger pads. It
was soft near the ends but got coarser near his scalp, and it was silky and
sleek as water at his neck–another favorite spot. Gokuu
never got tired of this, of running his hands over Sanzou’s
skin, his darker face and the paler areas at his elbows and neck; never got
tired of kissing Sanzou or of touching his lips and
his hands and his hips. It was Sanzou in his arms. Sanzou turning
his head, tilting it so Gokuu could reach his neck
more easily. Sanzou’s hands tight on his arms,
grinding him bone against bone.
Pain on his elbow, and Gokuu froze, relaxed his
fingers and looked up. Sanzou stared at him calmly.
“I said stop,” he said, releasing Gokuu’s elbow. Then
he rolled over, pointedly taking half the blankets with him.
Gokuu sat still for a moment, while the only sound
was the rain on the rooftop. Then he flopped back onto his own side and covered
himself with what blankets Sanzou had left him. He
started to close his eyes, then opened them a crack and snuck a sidelong glance
at Sanzou.
He wasn’t there.
Gokuu bolted up. “Sanzou–!”
“What?” From the window, Sanzou blew smoke at
him on his exhale. He crossed his arms and turned away from Gokuu,
looking back out to whatever he saw. Rain or blood or both, Gokuu
wasn’t sure. “Dumbass. I
told you to go to sleep.”
And no matter how long he stared at Gokuu, no matter
if he got up and went over there, Sanzou wouldn’t
move. He’d stay at that window all night, running again when he was so close,
because that was Sanzou and Sanzou
pushed away what got too close. Gokuu took all of the
blankets and wrapped himself up to his chin.
Another face, a happier one. Flowers
on a desk. Someone letting him climb into their bed at night and
wrapping him in blankets, and huffing when he took up all the space. Long hair
he could wrap three times around his fingers and just touch. Just
feel. He loved feeling that.
Then the bed was dipping down, and Gokuu started
awake, memories sliding away again as someone curled into him and touched a
hand to his. “What–“ he said, too tired to hide his
yawn, too tired to turn and look. “Sanzou–“ Too tired to see if it was real, and too tired to worry
about how long it would last.
“Shut up,” Sanzou murmured. “You stole the blankets.
I had to come over here.”
Of course. Sanzou ducked his
head into Gokuu’s neck, and Gokuu
reached up, wound his arm behind Sanzou’s neck, wrapped his fingers securely in Sanzou’s
hair. It was warm, threaded through his fingers like it belonged there, and
soft. When he buried his nose in it and exhaled, it smelled like beer and
cigarette smoke and sun.
Sunlight and yellow butterflies.
[~:.:~]
[~owari~]