Lamp oil

5. Come watch me dance

Tobirama

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I'm serious, Tobirama. What's wrong?"

I looked at Madara. He had a worried expression on his face as he lay next to me in my bed. He looked unfairly refreshed even if it was three am. We had just started kissing with passion, but he had stopped, noticing my mind was elsewhere.

I hissed and turned over on my back, irritated. To my surprise, Madara didn't push it. I had been absolutely certain that his what's wrong? was about him not getting my undivided attention as he wanted. But he seemed to genuinely want to know what was on my mind. It scared me a little. What if Madara wasn't as obsessed with me as I believed? That meant he could leave me, if he got tired of waiting.

Madara moved beside me so he was sitting up, turned me over on my stomach and straddled me.

"Hey, what are you... Oh..." I said as he started massaging my back.

"You're tense. You need to stretch. Take better care of yourself."

I didn't answer, just closed my eyes as he massaged me. His lithe hands moved expertly over my back muscles, warming them up before undoing the knots. It was painful, but good painful.

Without even thinking about it, I started telling him.

"There was a homeless man in my tent."

"That's awful", Madara said.

"Yeah..." I said, believing he meant it was awful for me, which I agreed with. "He was awfully thin and very young."

"Poor man."

I frowned. Maybe, Madara didn't believe I was the victim here.

"What do you mean?"

"Being homeless. Must be terrible."

"He has put himself in that situation."

Madara suddenly stopped massaging.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"How else would you have become homeless? By someone else's favour?"

Madara sat off and lay next to me on his side, looking at me. I was still on my stomach, but my head was turned to him.

"You should learn to be more kind, Tobirama", he said. He didn't touch me. I started playing with my tongue piercing, something I did when I was uncomfortable, which was rarely.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, you of anyone should have sympathy for people. What with your parents."

"But I didn't allow myself to become homeless, did I?" I asked.

"Yes, but you don't know this man's conditions."

"I do, in fact", I protested. "He's a drug junkie."

"What makes you say that?"

"He had a syringe next to him."

"Like, a classic one? With a long needle?"

"No..." I said, thinking. "It looked more like a pen. A red one."

"That sounds like an insulin pen", Madara said. "He must have diabetes."

I suddenly felt terrible for kicking the syringe away, but it only lasted for a second.

"Then he should have lived a better lifestyle to avoid getting it in the first place", I said flatly.

"He has diabetes type one, you idiot!" Madara suddenly burst out, and he actually sounded angry. It scared me. He had never been angry with me before. "Diabetes type two is correlated with lifestyle. Not type one! It's not his fault! He could have done exactly nothing to prevent it!"

"How do you know it's not type two?"

"Because type two don't use insulin! Despite, he was young and thin! God, you're thick sometimes!"

I felt rage bubble up within me. How dare he call me thick? Then, the rage was exchanged for worry; would I have known this if I had been more educated? Who decided a good standard was being successful? Who decided an education wasn't part of it? Truth was, I hadn't created a vision for what success is and then accomplished it; I had created a vision for what success is based on what I had accomplished. What if that homeless man had an entirely different vision? Like staying healthy? Or even just survive? And I'd ruined that by kicking his syringe away?

I stood up.

"Leave", I said to Madara, but he had already stood up, which had never happened before.

"Oh, I wasn't planning on staying." He was putting on his hoodie.

"Wait", I said, hiding my face in my hand.

"No", Madara said, walking to the door.

"No, seriously, wait", I said and stood up.

Madara stopped and turned to me, crossed his arms, looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

"What?" he said.

"I don't-" My voice cracked. Shit. But at this, I could feel Madara soften. "I don't want you to leave."

He sighed then, came back to me, put his arms around my neck, and I put my hands on his waist and kissed him. It took us only a few seconds before we opened our mouths to each other, like flowers opening to offer the nectar that was within.

"God, Madara..." I sighed.

"Come watch me", he whispered. "Come watch me dance."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"I've seen you perform so many times. I want you to see what I'm good at."

"Maybe", I said.

"Be kind, Tobirama" Madara repeated.

We kept kissing.

Izuna

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Wherever I went, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Don't get me wrong; I detested the man. He'd been terrible to me. And not just that; he'd been terrible to me solely on the basis of me being homeless. And he'd kicked me in the stomach, badly.

And even so...

I sighed. I felt the pocket of the only pair of trousers I owned. It was packed with something rare; small bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I couldn't help but smile a little sad smile thinking about how I had allowed myself expensive hair care products with the small salary I got from the ballet company, the only extravagant thing I had allowed myself. Oh, what a life that had been, having so little yet having everything! The content of the bottles in my trouser pockets were probably just soap, but I didn't care; I would get to wash my hair!

I walked to a part of the city that seemed unexplored, probably because the way there was stony and kind of dangerous and thus not so appealing for tourists. But I thought it was worth the hassle since it led to an absolutely perfect little beach with white sand and water that was like a melted precious stone. As soon as I arrived, I undressed until I was completely naked and, trying to avoid my reflection in the water as the loss of muscle mass would break my heart, and stepped in. 

I bathed for a long time. I washed my hair three times with the shampoo, and let the conditioner sit for several minutes while I bathed. Once I was done, I allowed myself the pure luxury of just sitting in the water and think.

I thought about the albino man, how impressive he was. I thought about the fact that I had nothing, absolutely nothing to offer him to make him impressed by me in turn. I thought about the graceful ballet dancer, Madara, and how much he would have to offer a man like Tobirama.

It hurt my heart for some reason.

Suddenly, I was desperate to see him again. I wanted to see the albino man perform. Determined, I got out of the water, dried in the sun, and got dressed. I left the protected beach and went to the albino man's tent.

But what I saw there would break my heart into a thousand pieces.