Hakkai was determined. No more waiting, no more beating around the proverbial bush, no more hoping Sanzo would get a clue and stop all this ridiculous nonsense. He was going to sit Sanzo down and demand he open up his eyes and see the truth...

But first, a drink. Because no one should face an irate Genjo Sanzo without some liquid courage flowing through their veins.

It was unfortunate that it was well-nigh impossible for Hakkai to get drunk. He was sure he could use the extra added nonchalance and fearlessness being drunk gave Gojyo...

Though perhaps that was just a Gojyo thing.

Thinking about that, or equally inane and unconnected things like that, carried him through one hour of steady, hard drinking — he was glad Gojyo was out at an actual bar tonight, and not drinking in the small dining area their current inn provided, like he was. He didn’t think he could bear either the well-intentioned company - or the invasive questions that invariably came along with said company.

What bothered him was knowing that Goku was asleep upstairs in the room he shared with Gojyo, Sanzo was safely ensconced in the room they shared, and on this, the night he’d chosen to confront Sanzo-

It was raining.

Not just a light drizzle or even a quick downpour, either — it was raining. Really raining. The kind that set even Hakkai’s teeth on edge because it wouldn’t let up for days; he could tell, and it annoyed him. Not only was dealing with Sanzo at a time like this more dangerous than ever, but he had his own issues to deal with when the rain pounded down outside like the footsteps of the dead pounding on the roof...

Oh yes, he had issues.

He’d wondered why Gojyo had chosen to set foot outside on such a terrible night, but considering the company if he stayed here, Hakkai couldn’t really blame him.

And enough of this pointless ruminating already. Time to go and face the dragon.

Sanzo didn’t look away from the window when he entered the room, didn’t acknowledge his greeting with even a nod of his head. That was not so unusual, on a night like this.

He turns to stone when it rains. It’s unnatural. I know he does it to keep himself from feeling what he’s remembering, but still, it’s not healthy. It’s not healthy for anyone to be that cold...

Like he should talk.

“Sanzo,” he said quietly, waiting to see if he’d get a reaction.

Nothing.

“Sanzo, we need to talk.”

One slight shoulder lifted, fell.

“Some other time.”

Well, that was... kinder, than it could have been. All things considered.

Yes, it was kinder than he could have expected from Sanzo, possibly kinder even than he deserved, considering he knew how Sanzo was, how he felt, on nights like this, yet he was pushing anyway...

And he was going to push some more. He couldn’t let anything deter him. Not even the rain that seemed so determined to haunt them both.

Ignoring Sanzo’s words, he spoke as if he’d been given the go-ahead to do so, ignoring the tiny stiffening in Sanzo’s shoulders when his voice broke the heavy silence between them once again.

“You can’t do this, you know. It isn’t fair to Goku.”

Still, Sanzo didn’t turn to face him; but his voice was rougher, harder, than it had been before.

“I’m not doing a fucking thing to Goku.”

Not yet, you’re not. And I’m here to make certain that you never do. For both your sakes.

But he couldn’t say that, any of that. Sanzo would not take it well at all. And Hakkai had never tried to heal himself from a mortal wound before.

“He looks up to you,” he said instead. “You must see that. And you’re his guardian. You can’t be confusing him like this; you’re only hurting him, as well as yourself. You-”

“Exactly what,” Sanzo said, voice a sliver of ice that cut directly into Hakkai’s chest, “do you think I’m doing, Hakkai?”

Violet eyes had turned to face him, looking nothing but black in the gloom, and Hakkai’s throat constricted. Though he never would’ve admitted it to Sanzo (who already knew, but would be uncomfortable hearing it said aloud), he looked up to Sanzo, too. He had since they met, when an uncompromising priest had come to take him to task for his crimes...

And to see someone he admired so fallen... hurt him.

“I think,” he said slowly, the words pulled from deep inside him, “that you’re confusing friendship and honest affection... with something more. I think... you’re lonely, and reaching out. But you’re doing it to the wrong person, Sanzo.”

Anyone but Goku, Sanzo. I don’t care who, just anyone but him.

He looked up, didn’t even realize he had no memory of having dropped Sanzo’s gaze, instead thinking about how... small Sanzo suddenly looked, perched there by the window with his face blank (black) and his eyes unreadable but still somehow bleeding. He could see the little boy Sanzo had once been in that face, those eyes. That made what he had to say just that much harder.

“I think... you’ll hurt Goku if you keep on this way. He isn’t ready for what you want. He may never be. At least...”

He steeled himself, bracing for whatever followed.

“At least when it comes to you.”

If he’d expected an intense reaction, he was disappointed; Sanzo took his words quietly, unflinchingly. (He takes them as he takes any fatal blow; head-on, eyes open, trusting that whether it ends in death or survival he will at least have his pride intact.) Then he simply turned back to the window.

But Hakkai, who knew him so very, very well, saw the one response his words did elicit, something so small that very few others would even have noticed it.

Sanzo’s fingers, so long and delicate (you wouldn’t think he could fire a gun with those hands — kill a demon with those hands — save a damned man with those hands), were...

Sanzo’s fingers were trembling.

Sanzo had been affected, had listened; Hakkai had won. This nightmare was over. Hakkai had, for the good of them all, gotten his way.

So why, then, did he still feel so sick?