Rhetorics

20. The librarian (Hashirama)

Ever since I'd met Madara, I'd become aware of one thing I did that I really hadn't thought of before.

Whenever I felt a strong emotion, be it sadness, anger, serenity, I would turn up my face towards the sky as I walked and indulge. It was as if the rays of sunshine, the wind, the cold, the rain was the emotion, and I needed it to wash over my face or I would never get it out of my system.

I was turning my face up now.

I felt shame. Guilt. Humiliation. And so much self-hate I didn't know what to make of it. The self-hate was based on the fact that I had come to realise I hated the man I became because of my party.

It was Christmas Eve, and my dream of spending Christmas Day with the man that had come to mean so much to me had been washed away from my heart and out in the gutter. I had been so ambivalent, my plan of closing down the homes to make Madara waver colliding with my desire to actually get to know him. In the end, I had chosen my party because it was the easy way out. I regretted it. I regretted it immensely. But not only because it had taken Madara away from me. No, it was also because I regretted the effects of my politics on those it directly affected. I had seen the faces of the workers of the home. I had seen the faces of the residents. And I had seen the face of Miss Asghar. And the thought of there being hundreds of asylum-seeking elderlies with the same face all over the state made me want to lay down and rot.

So I had paid for all of the residents of Miss Asghar's home to stay in a comfortable and high-quality hotel. I had looked at all five-star ones first, but most of them were fully booked at this time of year. The one I'd found, however, got enough rooms vacant and also held a standard high enough that I could live in it.

I had gotten Miss Asghar the only vacant suite.

Still, the pain didn't go away. It was like having broken a bone to then mend it with diamond screws. It was pathetic. Yet, I hadn't done it to make myself feel good but because I wanted the residents to feel safe. My feelings didn't matter at this point.

I suddenly stopped; something inside a window had caught my attention. The window was floor-to-ceiling and inside, people were dancing a pair dance. I looked at the entrance.

Lindy hop.

I couldn't help but smile as I played with the thought of giving it a try. I knew it was a pair dance that was very LHBTQ-friendly, and with my current reputation, being caught by the newspapers in there would be hilarious.

What's stopping you? I thought.

Nothing. Nothing was stopping me.

I was just about to go inside and ask to join in this Christmas Eve dance when I saw him.

He was following a tall, slender man with brown hair and glasses. They were both smiling and laughing as they danced together, looking at other dancers from time to time that moved around them. Madara was a beginner, but the man with the glasses was clearly an expert, making their dancing seem effortless. I'd never seen Madara look so happy.

Before he noticed me, I turned and walked away.

"If you apologise one more time, I will turn your dick into baklava."

"I'm sorry, Miss Asghar."

"Racist-jan!" she said so threateningly I couldn't help but laugh.

"How can you not be mad at me?" I asked.