a little something?
I'm not sure what to call this. It's a little bit HH!Ikkou fanfic, and a little bit Sanzo character study. I was bored out of my mind at work this afternoon, and this image just sort of came to me. (And typing a document looks more like work than surfing LJ. :p) Anyway, when I read it again just now, I still kind of liked it, so here it is.
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Rain
There was a book in front of him, but it was just for show. The cigarette in the ashtray and the half-empty glass with its attendant bottle were getting more attention than the book.
You'd think a stone castle would muffle the sound of the rain, but the splatter of raindrops on the windows could still be heard, and the claps of thunder could still shake the walls.
He made another attempt to focus on the pages, but his mind was thousands of miles away, and years into the past. His lack of focus was twice as frustrating tonight. Not only was he wasting time dwelling on the past, but he was neglecting his research to do so.
(And he couldn't help thinking that remembering the past while in this place might somehow call it into the present. He wasn't sure how it was possible to both long for and dread something at the same time, but it was.)
The urge to throw something through the window, to shatter something as thoroughly as he had been shattered, came and went, as usual. There wouldn't be any satisfaction in it. A house-elf would probably mend it effortlessly the next time he left his room.
He scanned the same page for the fifth time and made a sound of annoyance. Maybe it was time to give up on the book and look for something else. Hakkai might be looking for a distraction from the rain too.
Sometimes, depending on their moods, they had managed to distract each other from the rain by playing cards. Sometimes they had ridiculous arguments about useless philosophical concepts, with one or the other of them playing devil's advocate, just for the sake of discussion (and diversion).
On the other hand, Hakkai might not want company this time. Sometimes it worked that way.
It wasn't as if there was nothing else to do. He could read for a hundred years and still not make a dent in that library. There were sections of the castle he hadn't explored yet. (Where was that infamous prefects' bathroom anyway?) There was always the Ravenclaw bar, with its seemingly unlimited supply of alcohol. Or he could go find Gojyo and trust that the kappa would annoy him out of his mood without even meaning to. But nothing sounded appealing enough to drag his thoughts out of their usual rut.
Sometimes it worked that way too.
There was one alternative that probably would have succeeded, but it wasn't feasible. Still, he let himself consider the possibilities, until his imagination failed him and a lightning strike brought him back to the present.
He drank down the contents of the glass and hefted it in his hand. The glare was directed at the window again. Broken glass would at least provide momentary satisfaction. Dismissing the childish impulse, he reached for his cigarette, only to find that it had burned itself out. The pack was becoming alarmingly empty. How long could he make them last? How long would it rain? This rainy season had to end sometime.
Thinking of the changing seasons brought to mind the other reason for his darker-than-usual mood. For the last week he'd had the nagging feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere else. It wasn't the usual 'this is a waste of time and we should just go home' feeling either.
It was ridiculous. It wasn't even a true birthday, just the day he had freed Goku from that cave and let the monkey follow him home. It was as arbitrary as his own birth date, and therefore ultimately meaningless. (But that argument fell apart when he remembered his unexpected enjoyment of the birthday party Hakkai and Gojyo had given him.)
Even reminding himself that Goku was incapable of holding a grudge for more than two minutes wasn't helping.
And now the bottle and the cigarette pack were both empty.
And it was still raining.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain
There was a book in front of him, but it was just for show. The cigarette in the ashtray and the half-empty glass with its attendant bottle were getting more attention than the book.
You'd think a stone castle would muffle the sound of the rain, but the splatter of raindrops on the windows could still be heard, and the claps of thunder could still shake the walls.
He made another attempt to focus on the pages, but his mind was thousands of miles away, and years into the past. His lack of focus was twice as frustrating tonight. Not only was he wasting time dwelling on the past, but he was neglecting his research to do so.
(And he couldn't help thinking that remembering the past while in this place might somehow call it into the present. He wasn't sure how it was possible to both long for and dread something at the same time, but it was.)
The urge to throw something through the window, to shatter something as thoroughly as he had been shattered, came and went, as usual. There wouldn't be any satisfaction in it. A house-elf would probably mend it effortlessly the next time he left his room.
He scanned the same page for the fifth time and made a sound of annoyance. Maybe it was time to give up on the book and look for something else. Hakkai might be looking for a distraction from the rain too.
Sometimes, depending on their moods, they had managed to distract each other from the rain by playing cards. Sometimes they had ridiculous arguments about useless philosophical concepts, with one or the other of them playing devil's advocate, just for the sake of discussion (and diversion).
On the other hand, Hakkai might not want company this time. Sometimes it worked that way.
It wasn't as if there was nothing else to do. He could read for a hundred years and still not make a dent in that library. There were sections of the castle he hadn't explored yet. (Where was that infamous prefects' bathroom anyway?) There was always the Ravenclaw bar, with its seemingly unlimited supply of alcohol. Or he could go find Gojyo and trust that the kappa would annoy him out of his mood without even meaning to. But nothing sounded appealing enough to drag his thoughts out of their usual rut.
Sometimes it worked that way too.
There was one alternative that probably would have succeeded, but it wasn't feasible. Still, he let himself consider the possibilities, until his imagination failed him and a lightning strike brought him back to the present.
He drank down the contents of the glass and hefted it in his hand. The glare was directed at the window again. Broken glass would at least provide momentary satisfaction. Dismissing the childish impulse, he reached for his cigarette, only to find that it had burned itself out. The pack was becoming alarmingly empty. How long could he make them last? How long would it rain? This rainy season had to end sometime.
Thinking of the changing seasons brought to mind the other reason for his darker-than-usual mood. For the last week he'd had the nagging feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere else. It wasn't the usual 'this is a waste of time and we should just go home' feeling either.
It was ridiculous. It wasn't even a true birthday, just the day he had freed Goku from that cave and let the monkey follow him home. It was as arbitrary as his own birth date, and therefore ultimately meaningless. (But that argument fell apart when he remembered his unexpected enjoyment of the birthday party Hakkai and Gojyo had given him.)
Even reminding himself that Goku was incapable of holding a grudge for more than two minutes wasn't helping.
And now the bottle and the cigarette pack were both empty.
And it was still raining.