Rhetorics

16. The bazaar (Hashirama)

I put my hands in the pockets of my white coat, looked up at the sky. It was crisp and blue and the air was freezing, causing my breath to come out in hot puffs. My hand enclosed the note in my pocket, the one he'd given me after our day in parliament together. I was still in awe after our debate, even if a full day had passed. It had been fun, furious, hot.

I saw the cathedral in front of me, wondering if he was already there even if I was a little early. Why had he asked me to meet him? He didn't seem a man of surprise dates. I didn't think we had the jargon of going on dates at all, to be honest. But as I drew closer, I saw him standing there, his hair loose and straightened, hands in the pockets of his broad-shouldered, black coat, wearing black cargo trousers and Dr Martens. He really had a very different style out of politics, and I was curious to see more of the person he was out of politics as well.

He turned round when he saw me coming, and his face changed. I couldn't read it, but it pulled me in as if I had been caught in a fishing line.

"Hi", I said warmly.

"Hi", he said. "Come."

We started walking next to each other through the avenues and streets of the city. At first, we were quiet, looking at the distressed Christmas shoppers. Then, we started small-talking.

"Do you go home to your parents for Christmas?" I asked.

"My parents are dead", Madara said.

I didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry", I said.

"Don't worry", he said, looking at me sideways and smiling a little. "You couldn't have known. And it was a long time ago."

I looked up on the blue sky. "Madara."

"Mmm?"

"Do you want to hang out Christmas Day?" I could see him turn to me. "Nothing special. We can be at my place. Watch something. Buy takeaway. I know it sounds dumb, but we can see it as a normal day. And if you don't want to, it's fine, we can just-"

"Hashirama?" I turned to him. His face was mild. It pulled me even closer. "I'd love to come to you on Christmas Day."

I turned forwards, trying to hide a smile but I couldn't. We walked in silent for a bit longer.

"Are you usually submissive?" I asked.

"No." That caught my interest. "I'm a switch. I take it you always top."

"No." I smiled, beyond myself. "With girls, yes. With men, I'm a switch."

"You're bisexual?" he asked, curious.

"I'm pan. You?"

"Gay."

"Ever had a girl?"

He grimaced. "Once. Never again." I smiled. "I mean, women are amazing. Just not for me. Well, we're here."

I looked up. "A retirement home?" I noticed then we'd come to a pretty run-down part of town and were outside a dark green, two-story building that looked quite old.

"Mmm", Madara said and went in.

I frowned before I followed him. My shoes echoed against the dull, brown floors, making me incredibly self-conscious. The place smelled of burnt coffee and wet yarn. The residents were walking slowly in the corridors, greeting Madara, and he greeted them. But the worst part was they were all people of colour. We even came across a few who worked there, also them of colour. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and angry. What the fuck was Madara playing at? Was he trying to change me? Was he really that naive? And the place itself disgusted me. It was worn-down, dirty in places. I couldn't function unless my surroundings were clean.