Chapter 4: Old Wounds (Hayabusa)

There will be a few chapters that focus on Hayabusa, so I'll put his name in the chapter title. Also, I don't know anything about being a stripper, so I made that stuff up.

Enjoy!

It's hard being a stripper sometimes.

That was the only thought floating around in Hayabusa's mind at the moment. It's eight o'clock in the morning, and he was still in bed with a pillow covering his head. I shouldn't have worked last night. He just got home a couple of hours ago, and he's been trying to get some sleep for the last few was very tired, but he wasn't going to complain too much due to the amount of money he made last night. Hayabusa sighed and removed the pillow from his head. His head also felt like someone was hitting it with a stick, over and over again. I didn't even drink that much, he thought.

He swiftly ran a hand through his messy hair then picked up the bottle of pain medicine that was on his bedside table. Without much hesitation, Hayabusa poured one of the pills into his hand before he put it in his mouth. Hayabusa sighed again and looked around his room. It was a master bedroom, and his large bed was placed along one of the walls. The wall on his left had a full-body painting of him wearing a tight white shirt and black pants with aviators covering his eyes, and his head was turned as if he was looking at the door. His name was also next to it, and the wall on his right had glass doors that led to a private balcony. I'm still not done unpacking, he realized. He moved into this house almost two weeks ago, so he's still in the process of getting settled in. A knock on his door brought Hayabusa out of his thoughts, and he was a little surprised to see Hayate open the door.

Hayate didn't say anything while he invited himself in, pushing the curtains away from the balcony doors. Sunlight flooded the previously dark room, making Hayabusa frown and cover his eyes. "What the hell, Hayate?"

"Wake up! I want some breakfast," Hayate claimed.

"You have been here for three days. You can cook for yourself," Hayabusa mumbled, walking over to his closet. His headache wasn't going away, and he didn't need Hayate to help make it worse.

"But I'm your guest, and you can cook an omelet better than I can," he responded. Hayabusa suddenly grabbed Hayate's arm and pulled him over to the door before pushing him out of the room and locking the door. It's too early in the morning for this, he silently complained. He didn't want Hayate to find another way into his room, so Hayabusa picked up his clothes and went to take a shower.

...

"I've been waiting on breakfast for an hour," Hayate declared when he saw Hayabusa.

"I told you to go cook it yourself, but I guess you wanted to annoy me for some reason."

Hayate obviously noticed Hayabusa's irritation, because he paused for a few seconds then continued. "What time did you get home?"

"A little past four," Hayabusa answered, mixing the eggs together. He found it amazing how, despite what could be considered a hangover, he could still function enough to cook. "Why?"

"You're aggravated, and being up around this time usually doesn't bother you," he explained.

"You're very observant," Hayabusa informed. He pulled two plates out of a cabinet and placed an omelet on each one. A fork was also put on each plate before one plate was given to Hayate and the other was placed on the kitchen island. Hayabusa took a moment to pour two cups of water then put them on the island and sat across from Hayate.

It was quiet while both men ate their breakfast. Hayabusa was used to it, but Hayate's unnecessary staring was beginning to bother him. After moving his empty plate aside, Hayabusa put his elbows on the table and stared back at Hayate. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I have some questions about your...night life, if I could call it that."

Hayabusa sighed and motioned for Hayate to ask his questions. He did not think that Hayate would suddenly become interested in what Hayabusa considered as his job. "How long have you been a stripper?" Hayate asked, interrupting Hayabusa's thoughts.

Hayabusa stared at the ceiling while he thought about it. "It will be five years in a few months."

"That's a long time, Ryu."

"Not really," he disagreed. Five years may seem like a lot, but that amount of time had passed quickly to Ryu. "Are you worried about your sisters and their friends knowing that your best friend is a stripper?"

"No," Hayate argued. "Honestly, I was worried about whether or not you were going to tell a group of people you just met what you do for a living. Anyway, do you ever have sex with whoever you dance for?"

Hayabusa immediately thought of Kasumi, and he had to bite his lip so he wouldn't smile. He enjoyed the night he spent with the strawberry blonde-he definitely wouldn't mind doing it again. He'll just have to wait until she decides to accept his offer. He forgot that Hayate was waiting on an answer, so Hayabusa shook his head. "Not all of them."

"So taking your clothes off in front of random women doesn't bother you?"

"No," Hayabusa answered. "I haven't seen most of those women in public, so I don't think I have anything to worry about. Besides, I'm proud of my body."

Ignoring the last statement, Hayate released a frustrated sigh. A nervous expression appeared on his face seconds later, and a feeling of dread instantly washed over Hayabusa. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hayate spoke. "I don't think your-"

"Do not mention him," Hayabusa growled. Bitter memories were beginning to rise from the dark parts of his conscience, but he quickly pushed them back to where they came from. Not here, not now.

"I am worried about your well-being, Ryu. You could end up in some serious trouble with that kind of lifestyle."

"You have no right to mention him," he snapped. "Especially when you're unaware of how he treated me."

"He could help you," Hayate tried to explain.

"He tried to control my life, Hayate!"

"You could try to talk to him."

"No," Hayabusa snarled, lifting his cup and walking to the refrigerator. "It's been eight years since I've seen him, and I was fifteen years old then!"

"I'm just trying to make sure-"

"Stop," Hayabusa shouted, absently tightening his grip on the glass cup. It shattered in his hand, pieces of glass now stuck in his hand. He ignored his bloody hand and glared at Hayate. "I'm not one of your cases, Hayate! I appreciate the fact that you care, but I can handle myself and my problems. If I wanted to talk to him, I would have done so by now. Just leave that issue alone, okay?"

Not giving Hayate a chance to respond, Hayabusa exited the kitchen and walked to his room. He went into his large bathroom, took out a first aid kit, and sat down on the counter next to the sink. He carefully started to pull the pieces of glass out of his hand while his mind wandered back to his argument with Hayate. He didn't know why he was so angry about the situation-if anything he shouldn't be bothered by it. I also didn't have to react the way I did, he admitted to no one. He wrapped his hand in gauze and returned to his dull throbbing in his head was turning into a headache, so Hayabusa closed his curtains and got back in his bed.

...

Thanks for reading! Reviews would be nice.