Disclaimer: Feel better, Minekura-sensei!
Warnings: one-sided, BL
Author's Note: I have a strange new attachment to Hazel. Huh.
Whatever reasons were behind his failure, of one thing Hazel was certain: it wasn't for lack of trying. Though his attempts were sometimes weak and joking, they were always high in frequency and never half-hearted, and no matter how small or sure to fail each comment, each smile, each glance was, to each he affixed a little bit of hope, that maybe this would be the one. That maybe this stupid, worthless attempt would be his last.
But, of course, all of his hopes, no matter to small, fell to destruction, shattered on the ground like broken glass, and like shards of a cracked mirror, Hazel could see a little bit of himself in each piece, could feel it, like a tangible hurt, as Sanzo so easily swatted away his hopes. He didn't understand it; he took such care in crafting each subtle hint, each small, flirtatious comment, he thought through how he knew Sanzo would respond and tried to plan ahead with another, equally sweet, equally inviting comment to follow. But no matter how he tried, no bat of the eyelashes caught Sanzo's eye, no sweet words earned a kind return, no step closer stopped a step away.
In the darkness of his bedroom in the past-midnight hours, staring at the long stripes of moonlight streaming in around the curtains, revealing select strips of desk, of chair, of Gato, propped sitting against the wall, on the floor, Hazel mulls over it all, tries to plan new methods of attack, new strategies in this pathetic battle. He thinks through it all, every move he's made, every cruel response he's received, every mistake he's sure he make. After all, he certainly can't believe that it is, in fact, him, and not his method, that is failing to win him his prize; admitting fault is far easier than admitting defeat, and so he plots and plans, maps out the words and actions and everything hoping that in the morning, he won't fail.
In the morning, the sun rises, Sanzo rises, and Hazel is ready for the challenge at hand. At breakfast, as Sanzo sulkily pokes at his omelet with his chopsticks mumbling about fish and soy sauce, Hazel is effervescent, smiling, chattering, hoping for an opportunity, an opening, anything. He's patient, however, passing the time with idle talk and false-confident smiles, waiting for his chance.
"Shut up," Sanzo finally spits, turning away from his egg with distain. "If you're going to follow me, then at least let me deal with your sorry ass in peace!"
Hazel smiled back sweetly. "And just what'd you be willin' to do to shut me up, Mister Sanzo?" he coos back, winking coyly.
Sanzo twitches. "Your stupidity is insufferable," he finally snorts, opening the newspaper and blocking out Hazel entirely.
Hazel sighs and slouches back into his chair, ignoring Gato's concerned look. He is already thinking, planning, figuring out how to avoid this outcome next time around. Thinking, and hoping for the day when Sanzo might finally give in, when he can put his mind to rest.