Definition Of A Monster

He should have died first.

A stupid thought, considering the other had died so long ago. Yet the wound was fresh. Many people might wonder how that was possible, but those people would be the ones who did not realize that although dead, Gat was very well still there.

Hazel clung to that as his fact. Like how the Sun would rise everyday. How eventually the rains would pour down from the Heavens. How blood would run from scalp and eyes depending on how one decided to kill. Like all of that, Gat was there. It was Hazel's decision that was so and in having the complete power made him feel more then the simple things other people clung to in order to feel alive.

Rather like God, though the humble bishop would deny. He felt like God and hated himself for it. It was merely His whim which gave him this power. Fate which gave him Gat and then gave him power over the man. It was because of him Gat was alive. It was because of him that Gat stayed alive all of this time, through thick and thin.

(It was because of him Gat had to be brought back in the first place – protecting him caused the man pain – and was this even really a life – with those yellowed eyes and a heart that did not beat and a body which needed no sustenance of food or sleep?)

Another town, another place which begged for his help. Help in which he preached something all of these people already believed. Demons were evil. They were to be destroyed. This was his task, why he had come all this way. To destroy the creatures which did not belong on this Earth, which only caused pain and suffering. He knew his place and dealt his hand well.

(He knew that something was wrong with him – his logic could not be wrong and yet a part of him was screaming – what deemed what as a monster – and it could not possibly be his bodyguard – not in knowing him and travelling with him and bringing him back – was that a monster?)

"Ah, feels nice ta finally have a clean bed again."

He spoke because that was what he did. He spoke, he preached, and people would listen. No one could ask for a better listener then Gat. Not that Gat had anything other to do other then to listen to Hazel. Listen and watch the smaller man for safe keeping like he always had. Hazel kept talking because other then the silence, there was nothing to fill in the gaps between his words unless Gat was feeling generous towards him.

(Hazel kept talking because he was certain Gat had to know he needed a response – Hazel needed to listen to something – this talk was only to get someone to say something to him and it was driving him crazy to keep prattling on when he had run out of things to say – it was all orders and Hazel needed more and more – was that really too selfish of him?)

Not that Gat knew it was being generous, Hazel would guess. Hazel would strain his mind to decide what was going through the other's head before asking. The response was never adequate to his liking, even when Gat dredged out an entire sentence or two. But talk – talk as opposed to the resting, or killing, or raising the dead – it was what kept him sane.

(He could just see the red head laughing at him – the knowing smile in those green eyes – almost happiness from the smallest one – Sanzo telling him to get over himself – there was nothing worth selling yourself for except yourself and that would defeat the purpose – one only lived for himself – but what did that make Gat?)

He appreciated Sanzo's straightforwardness in the subject, for it made certain Hazel did not set aside his morals. Just as much as he wanted to scream from the words of the Buddhist as well.

Hazel Grouse was a monster.

Judging others before knowing and killing mindlessly.

That had always been his definition, what he had labeled them as.

Anyone else would agree.

It just meant Hazel would start attacking his own reflection next. It was only fair after all, that he rid the lands of every single monster there was. And as much as he would dispute it, Hazel knew very well what a monster was. And if people understood it as well, they would find his miracles a part of that. He was doing them a favour though, these people deserved to be alive. Unlike those he had killed.

It only made sense that his body should join those murdered by his hand and his soul sent to join them in whatever torment. He was as mindless as they when it came to killing. He had a purpose, however. He did not regret what he was doing. Someone had to and Hazel was just blessed to be given such a task, blessed to be deemed worthy for this mission.

(A mission which he would never give up – but he was so tired – and there seemed to be no point – but someone had to and there was no one else – why was it that the core of him was starting to fail?)

There was something wrong and he was falling.

(Gat had that lingering warmth – as if his heart was about to pump life through his veins but never quite did – why did Hazel feel so cold?)

He had power over Gat. Had. The power to bring him back to life. So how come he was the one so dependent? Gat would do whatever he said, whatever he told him to, and yet it was Hazel who found himself so headily enthralled. Gat would never leave him and yet that was one of the few things that Hazel feared for. That the one person who would never leave him would be gone one day. Would have left Hazel stranded. For without the knowledge of someone at his back he found himself petrified.


Silence. As always.

"Please say somethin'."

"What would you have me say, Hazel?"

I dunno Gat, I don't know what's in your head. You tell me.

"What do ya think of Sanzo's reaction to that new group? I'd say we have another fight on our hands... soon as the red head snaps around tha' other."

Just any word, really. Hazel hungered for them. One night, in the middle of demon corpses, he compared that hunger to a demon's. They hungered for Human flesh. That always hurt someone. Words could hurt as well, Hazel was aware of that more then he would let on. Attacking people physically always hurt though. Words only hurt sometimes. It was a deeper wound, however.

Hazel hungered for words, but managing to extract them from Gat sent a chill down his spine. Of both want and terror. He always put out some word which he knew had to hurt.

"We must watch out for the woman. She is more dangerous then she seems."

(But not Gat – let him not hurt Gat – he needed someone there – Gat was the only one there – was the dangerous one really something that could physically attack them?)

"'tis often the case," Hazel sighed out, patting the bed besides him. He did not look to see whether Gat obeyed his gesture. For one, he knew that Gat would, Gat always did. Another, there were times where he could not bear to look into those eyes he had given him. It told him that Gat should be dead. It showed the power he had over him.

In situations like this, he preferred to forget about everything, including that. Feeling like God. He did not need those feelings, did he? Killing, resting, raising, talking... taking. He took what he wanted. And it was perfectly acceptable. Especially from Gat. Gat belonged to him, Gat did what he said, Gat was not even Human and that made it right.

Even if it did not make any sense.

Gat sat down on the bed and Hazel did not waste any time, simply leaning against the other. Not his usual tactic and by the slight movement from Gat the larger man was not expecting that. Still, there was no complaint – there was never any complaint – as Hazel rested his cheek on the fabric covering Gat's arm. His fingers came up and trailed up to Gat's shoulder.


Hazel managed a smile, wondering what was coming over him. Not what was wrong with him, he already knew that. He had to forget about that. He had a mission.

(– but it was fine to want this)

"Yes?" he moved his hand over to Gat's chest, gripping the front of his vest. Gat did not speak again, merely placed one of his hands behind Hazel's head, moving it off his shoulder in order to kiss him. Hazel hummed pleasantly. This was like any other day, any other time. This happened because he wanted it to. He pulled himself up on to Gat without breaking their kiss. It was something he had worked on before.

(– he was not breaking and mending at the same time – he was not falling)

"You're mine," he said, breathlessly as he pulled his head back, as he would always say. And it would be true, Gat would never deny it. Yet, Hazel almost wished he would. Just to get more words to come out where Hazel could devour them and prove him wrong. Tear them apart and say what should have been said instead. After all, his Word was all. Eventually everything came back to him. Just in a smaller scale, where he would save the people around him. The rest of everything could come later.

(– he could do what he wanted – he was not meaningless)

Gat was gentle and Hazel was harsh. Hazel did not know if he liked it that way but he was content to let that be. This was Gat's true nature, not something he made out of him to be certain. Made to touch him as if he were made out of glass. How many people would be surprised that violence was far from being the first thing in Gat's nature?

The kisses were tantalizingly slow, just as the time between the man's words. Hazel hated waiting for what he knew would eventually come just as much as he was pleasured by the small amounts he was given at a time.

(– he was not in control – he was not a monster)

Hazel let Gat be in control, because he knew it was only there because he allowed it. It was hard to keep from fighting for control, because if he did he was likely to get it right back. But Hazel wanted Gat to lay him down on the bed, he wanted Gat to take the initiative, take him right then and there because Hazel wanted to forget everything just for one moment. It was not being unfaithful to his mission, it was just a part of resting.

It did not matter that Gat could easily kill him right there, venerable as he was, because Gat would not. It was something he never had to worry about.

Just like Gat leaving.

(– but yes he was in control – and this was good)

Then it was over and all of his thoughts were allowed to rush back into his head. Hazel rested that head on Gat's shoulder and pretended he was not crying.

(but did gat want this like he did, or was it just because he had ordered it?)

Please, oh please...

If he had died first, Gat would have been saved from him.

From the monster Hazel knew he was.