Hidan was a jerk. An ass. An ass-pirate. Like he took it as a personal challenge to be the Lord of Douches; the Prince of Perverts. What possessed me to even give him a second thought was beyond me. Nevertheless.. there was no denying that he was one of the few people I actually considered as anything near a friend. Despite the fact that he thought I should just kill myself now and leave Jashin the trouble, despite the constant name-calling, the abusive "love-punches", the threats and selfishness, the hot and cold thing... I feel like I'm the only one who understands him. Then again, I was the only one who listened. And to this day, there's no doubt in my mind that I would've killed him if it were legal, but the twenty-first century isn't kind to youth.
Everyday it's usually the same. I'll be sitting in the park, minding my own business, and he'll appear out of no where. Then a slew of questions. "Sup?" "Watchya readin'?" "Who's that?" I answer every question as patiently as I can. He'll take something of choice out of context to start getting at me. Rant. And rant. Just nod, with an occasional, "Mhm". Half the time I don't listen. But nearing the time when the sky starts to turn to every shade of gold and pink, he silences. And for a while he sits back and seemingly contemplates the colors. As if searching for a certain one, and always ending unsatisfied. Everyday. And he never finds the color he's looking for. This is my only chance to just stare at him without being questioned. Where I can study his face. And the changes. The growing frustrating in his eyes as he searches. Each day it's just slightly more desperate. I know if I say anything, it'll break this quiet facade. It'll shatter the silence.
Then he stands and yawns. Smiles at me for a quick second. And it's always highlighted by the quickly fading rays of light. It's a fake smile. I'm almost positive that if he weren't so frustrated at the sky, he wouldn't bother. But he smiles. And I'm glad he does. It shows how human he really is. I don't bother watching him walk away. Rather I'm staring at the sky. Everyday. I wonder just what he so deeply wishes to find in the great big sky. What's so special about it? Just what color could be so captivating to him? What color could possibly compare to those bright amethyst eyes?
And each night, as the sky changes it's heart to blue, I sigh, and follow far behind. Each night. I lie in bed. Staring at the stars through my window. I inspect each one. But I can never find the one I'm looking for. They're all the same. Giant masses of burning gas. So close, and yet, so far. They aren't like the evening colors. Stars are all the same, but every night there are different ones. Never the ones I want. Never the ones that make me think of him.
Despite the abuse, emotional and physical, I'm the only one that will ever listen to him. I'm the only one who knows what he's talking about. I'll be the only one that'll know why he comes with a broken nose or bruised eye. I'll be the only ones with bandages already waiting for him. I always have been. I'll be the only one he appreciates. The only one he can trust to understand what he's trying to say, despite our intellectual barrier. I'm the only one willing to give him a few extra hints on the math assignment that's due tomorrow. The only one that's not afraid of him, and who will put up with him, who doesn't mind the occasional bruises. But better yet, he'll always be the one that gets me out of bed in the morning. He always has been.