#ishida hideki

“Shut up, ’s not yourbusiness,” Haizaki growls, but fails to look intimidating.

Ishida puts the glass inthe sink, and frowns. He is pretty sure Haizaki got a full-time jobsomewhere, the last time they talked about it—he could never haveafforded a course in university. If he didn’t know better, Ishidawould have thought that Haizaki doesn’t care at all about his job.

It’s just hard to pick upthe pieces he leaves behind him to fully understand what’s going on.

“Did you get firedagain?” Ishida asks.

He sees a flash of angerpass through Haizaki’s eye, but decides not to comment. He needs toget the man talking, because that’s what he needs, and that’s whatIshida is good at. Making people talk. Drunk people talk.

“I thought that you werepast the impulsive actions,” he says coolly.

“What makes you think Iwas in the wrong?” Haizaki snaps. “It’s not my fault if theycan’t handle a bit of honest talking to their face!”

“You should know by nowthat whenever you talk back you get fired.”

Haizaki doesn’t botherreplying and stretches out a hand, but only grabs thin air when heremembers Ishida confiscated his glass of alcohol. He scowls andcurls his fists into balls, giving a glare at the bartender. Ishidaisn’t fazed at all; he’s now way too much used to this scorn andnasty looks to be bothered at all.

Instead, Haizaki fishes apack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Ishida quickly gets hold ofthis as well, and before the younger one can throw a fit, heexplains:

“No smoking allowedindoors. There’s a smoking spot at the corner of the street, but Idon’t recommand you going there in your state.”

“Fuck you, Ishida.”

Ishida is only halfsurprised when Haizaki doesn’t try to pick a fight to get his packback—maybe too tired, maybe resigned, maybe trusting. It onlyfurther proves that he really can’t figure out someone like this lostboy, who probably doesn’t know himself what he’s doing in life.Ishida looks at the people in the room, noticing in the corner of theeye that Haizaki dumped his head on his forearms. There is a softchatter coming from the tables in the back, loud chuckling from thefront ones, giggling and eye contacts all across the room. One or twopersons drunk, and they’re only halfway through the night. Ishidadecides that these people know what they are doing, contrary to theboy—man—he has to take care of.

Ishida shakes his head andpours a drink for a customer without as much as a look for them, andfocuses on Haizaki once more.

“Either you talk to me,either you go home,” he indicates, mechanically wiping glasses.

Ishida has learntthroughout all these past months that picking Haizaki up is aminefield because he can react violently, but he has also learnt thatbeing direct is the only way to get a honest reply.

Seconds fly by beforeHaizaki answers, head still buried in his arms.

“Life’s just shit.”

“I think I already knewthat.”

“Well you’ll need tolearn it from another point of view. I can n'ver get what I want.”

That’s nothing new, Ishidawanted to say, but he’s sure Haizaki knows it and he doesn’t need avocal reminder. It probably hurts more than necessary—like the buttof a cigarette.

Ishida sighs.

“If so, why don’t youfight for it?” he suggests.

Haizaki lifts his head andlooks at him with glassy eyes, but confusion and anger are all toopresent on his face.

“Fight for it? What thefuck? Think I haven’t been doin’ it for, like, all my life?”

“That’s not what Imeant,” Ishida frowns.

“Sure as hell you do!You’re no better than anyone else. Always judging me and sayingthings you think I should or shouldn’t do. Why do you still care,anyway? Not tired of me yet? Bet you didn’t know I knew how you lookat me. You’re one creepy ass, Ishida.”

Ishida’s throat goes dry,his breath catches but he can’t let it show. He has to keep a calmcomposure. This isn’t something out of the ordinary. He’s used toHaizaki’s jabs. He can control his racing heart, because he’s dealtwith it before.

He sets the cup downgently and looks right into Haizaki’s eyes; his face doesn’t waver inthe least.

“When you burst out likethat, I’m wondering myself why I still bother,” he begins as calmlyas possible. “But I care. I don’t give up, because you need help,Haizaki. And I happen to care for the people I like.”

Ishida notices the subtlechange in Haizaki’s expression, the way his eyes don’t quiteunderstand the feelings that just have been poured out, the wayconfusion changes into a frown. It makes his heart ache, his headspin, because he knows he’s going to get burnt. He knows he hasreached his limit for tonight.

Haizaki breaks eye contactand slams his money on the counter. He gets up, trying to cover hiswobbling, and heads to the exit. He ignores the people who stare attheir exchange.

“You shouldn’t try sohard, man.”

Ishida wordlessly watchesHaizaki’s retreating figure. It ends up way too often like this. Hetries, oh he tries so hard, like Haizaki said, and he can’thelp it.

Picking up Haizaki isalways a double-edged sword. One second it seems the right time toget through him, and the next his fire lights up anew to hurt.

Ishida absentmindedlytosses the pack of cigarettes up and down. A cigarette butt is theworst and best part of the cigarette—so close to getting burnt,people enjoy even more the taste.