"Oi, I'm still fuckin' pissed about that," Gojyo retorted, tapping the ash off the end of his smoke. The space between them kept feeling like it was changing -- did Hakkai notice it too? It was too much distance, and then it wasn't enough, back and forth. It was starting to make him dizzy. "Don't think I've forgotten."

At least the bruises had faded. He'd been mad - still was, actually -- but Hakkai was hurting enough without having to nurse a black eye on top of everything. "But spendin' ten years alone with my crazy mom kinda put shit in perspective," he continued, a little softer. His hands fell limply in his lap and he stared down between them, and the middle distance between them and the floor.

"She hated me. I mean, really hated me. She tried to kill me, fuck, eight time? Nine, until she got too weak to use th'chair? And I don't mean just grabbin' me and hittin' me, I mean really tryin' to kill me." He sucked on his smoke, blowing a thick cloud out and watching it curl back on itself over the gaudy blood-red carpet.

"But I loved her. I really did. ...Really do, if I'm bein' honest. Someone who never did a single nice thing for me, who would rather claw my eyes out than let me even look at her, somebody who spent her entire life wishing I was dead... and I loved her." He turned to look steadily at Hakkai.

"How th'fuck could I hate you?"