Issa is so late.

This fact shouldn't be surprising. His timekeeping skills are absolutely terrible. He constantly reminds himself of this whenever his gran gave him money to invest in a watch, but he never actually does it, and just spends the money on fried mozzarella sticks. The fact that he is so easily angered, so stubborn, isn't so surprising either.

Issa is so, so late.

He shouldn't have taken a shortcut through the music block. He shouldn't have looked through the viewing window into the practice room. He shouldn't have seen Marcel, and that girl, that girl he's always sees Marcel talking to, so close to each other. He shouldn't have watched, shouldn't have waited so long. Shouldn't have seen them kissing. Shouldn't have seen Marcel cheating. Shouldn't have opened the damned door. Shouldn't have even opened his mouth.

Issa is so, so, so late.

He's running with a bloody nose, the blood dripping onto his pearl white collar and striped school tie. He assumes that's a bad sign He feels as if he's going to faint. He assumes that's a bad sign. The nursery playground is almost empty, he can't see any parents. He assumes that's a bad sign.

Tissues. He swings his school bag around the front of his body and grabs a pack of tissues. He swipes at the blood, but it drips down like snot. He keeps running towards the nursery door, towards the lone kid standing next to the teacher; his neice. She looks pissed. Really pissed.

The handover is smooth. Apologise, take child, leave. No questions asked. No questions as to why Issa' nose is painting the front of his school shirt red. No questions as to why this kid's parents never pick her up. Why it's always either a seventeen-almost-eighteen boy or a withering old granny who somehow still stands without support who comes every afternoon.

People keep looking at them. The sad, sad pair of outer-suburb living kids who probably live in council housing. 'The boy is probably in a gang' Issa practically reads off the tongue of a mother waiting at the bus stop. 'He's taking that young girl somewhere evil'.

"Where's my dad?" His niece looks up at him.

"Still on his road trip." Issa lies. He definitely isn't on his road trip. Definitely not going anywhere without a piece of metal clamped around his ankle.

Issa notices the beads in her hair are multicoloured, "Hmph, he's taking his time."

Then, "Candy?"

He uses up all his cash on a bar of chocolate he bought from the checkout display in the supermarket and waits for the four year old to finish her candy bar as they sit on a park bench covered in pigeon dump, graffiti and spit.

There are a surprisingly large amount of parks in tiny Sherrywater. This specific one holds outdoor pitches, the outdoor pitches that one could be proud of. Floodlights, faux grass, proper plastic seating. There was a match playing on one of the pitches, in the November chill, the teams were wearing neon vests. The occasional shout at an unchecked move, the occasional cheer when a goal was scored. His niece gives a little yell of entertained delight whenever that happens. The small sound turns a few heads, reveals a few smiles. Issa can't help but cheer too.

And then Issa sees him. Him. Ki, running around, hockey stick in hand, sweat glistening on his forehead, hair pushed back with a flimsy thin hair band. His hair fans upwards because of it, and bounces with every movement. He's too tall for even the vests, it looks small on him, too small. The same goes for the shin pads on his lanky legs. He's too tall for his own good, Issa thinks.

The puck slides towards Ki, he hooks it and shoots it into the net. This time, a cry of laughter comes out of Issa's mouth. Loud and clear, a happy noise. This time, Ki turns around too. And gives a small, shy wave to Issa when he sees him sitting there, watching. His eyes linger for a second too long, his lips curled up in too soft a smile. And then he turns around again, and the warmth in Issa's chest dissolves like the remaining chunks of chocolate being warmed in the toddler's hands. 

Oh for f*ck's sake. 

Issa's wiping chocolate off his niece's face when Ki comes up behind them. He doesn't look as ridiculous now, the shin pads are off, the blue and white sports kit is peeking out from under Ki's oversized fur-trimmed trucker jacket. His hair is still fanned up with the hairband. Issa can't stop glancing up at the loose strands of hair.

"So, who's this little lady?" Ki smiles, swinging an overpacked bag onto his back.

"I'm Lilou. I'm four!" Lilou wipes the chocolate off her hands onto her flowery wool tights, earning her a tut from Issa.

"Younger sister?" Ki's got his hands on his hips. Innocent question. Loaded answer.

Issa hands Lilou a wipe, "Niece. My older brother's kid."

"Oh? You have an older brother?"

"In prison," Issa shrugs, glancing at Ki. He shrivels at the word.

"Uh... sorry for asking."

"No worries. Didn't know you did hockey."

Ki lets out a small exhale at the topic change, "My dad taught my older brother and I when we were little. I'd try my hand at ice hockey, but I'm terrible in skates."

"My moms wanted me to be a figure skater when I was older. I had group lessons for, what, five-six years? I haven't been on the ice in ages, now that I think about it," Issa scratches the back of his neck, "Maybe I should give it a whirl again some time."

"Maybe you could teach me," Ki shrugs with a smile, "Sure could use a teacher. maybe you could take me to the rink sometime?"

Awkward silence, and then.

"Why so tall?" Lilou's practically craning her little neck.

"A giraffe gave me its blessing." Ki smiles at the short toddler. Issa snorts.

"What?"

"That's why I'm so tall. A giraffe blessed me to have long legs and arms," Ki shakes his limbs individually like he's doing a weird dance, "So now I tower above everyone like this," He stands on his toes and looks upwards with his arms raised above his head and starts leaping around Issa and Lilou in circles. Lilou chases after him and Issa can't help but laugh at this ridiculous scene. Issa tilts his head to the side and keeps glancing at Ki, 'He's acting like an absolute dork'.

After a while of small talk, awkward glances and the both of them trying to keep Lilou entertained for just a little longer while they talk, the sun begins to set. The sky blazes a hazy orange that fades into a deep, dark royal blue. The clouds practically glow, the sun's glossy rays reflecting off them. Lilou's dancing feet weave the golden threads into a curtain of tinted sunlight that frames the bench Ki and Issa sit on.

"Want a lollipop?"

Issa looks at Ki for longer now, with a confused tilt of the head.

"Hmm?"

Ki rummages around in his jacket pockets and pulls out a small handful of lollipops. They're covered in white paper wrapping, the brand name printed all over in all the colours of the rainbow.

"Go on, help yourself," He holds out the multi coloured lollipops to Issa and he takes one.

"Do you not want one yourself?" Issa takes a lollipop.

"Oh I do." He watches Issa unwrap the green lollipop, "This'll probably be my dinner, y'know."

Issa stops and looks at Ki, concerned.

"Don't worry about it."

Issa would worry about it. He would worry about it a lot.

"Apple?" Ki unwraps his yellow one and shoves the wrapper into his pocket, "Interesting choice."

"I just chose it because my favourite colour is green," Issa shrugs, "I always wanted green eyes as a kid."

"Why?" Ki tastes the artificial mango in his mouth,

"Green seemed to be so much cooler and interesting than just dark-brown-basically-black eyes,"

"You have a point," Ki nods, leaning back on the bench and swinging one leg onto the other, "Y'know how people say the eyes are the window to the soul? I suppose that means green-eyed people have coloured panes."

Issa gives Ki a weird look, before breaking out into laughter, "Sort of a weird thought was that?"

"I don't know?" Ki can't help but smile, "Must be the sugar."

"The sugar. Sure..." Issa smiles, Ki throwing his hands up in humorous defeat.

"Y'know, I didn't take you as one to do extracurricular." Issa nods towards the field, his mouth sucked into the shape of an 'O' as he sees how much dirt is on Lilou's daycare uniform, "I certainly don't have the time. It's hard enough juggling what's already on my hands."

"I hear you," Ki nods, letting the remainders of his lollipop dissolve in his mouth, "In all honesty, I'm just doing it to look good on the Uni application."

"Huh. Smart," Issa pauses, "Time flies. It feels like yesterday when I was leaving Year Six, pumped from the SATs, ready to be a big kid. And now, I'd do anything to get back the days where all I had to worry about was how to greet people in French and how to describe some fantasy princess' blonde hair."

"Suppose that's what growing up does to you. Constant nostalgia at anything and everything, chronic desperation for the easy life of childhood. I'm not even in my twenties yet and I feel so...tired."

Even Lilou stills at that silence. Issa twiddles his thumbs. Ki picks at the splintering, damp wood of the bench.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Feel like I went a little too deep there. Considering we've only known each other for like, what, two months? And barely talk to each other? You've probably wanted to jump up and leave for half an hour now. People tell me I have a tendency to drabble on and- you know what? It's alright if you wanna go. I should probably get going myse-"

"No, no. You weren't drabbling on. I kinda liked this short session of, well, how would you describe it?" Issa's face crinkles with thought, he stands up and brushes Lilou off, "Free therapy? I don't know."

"Hmm, suppose so," Ki stands up too and swings his bag onto his shoulder. He pats his pockets down calmly, until he reaches his left coat pocket. His face dawns with an emotion Issa can't quite place a finger on, and he immediately scrambles around the bench, ducking down to look under it.

"What it is it?" Issa lingers above him.

"Fuck, I don't have my oyster card. I must have forgotten it or... lost it," He looks towards the sky, "Again."

"I can give you a ride?" Issa suggests.

Ki looks at him confused.

"A car ride. It would be fun talking to someone instead of silently worrying about this little one over here, "He jabs a thumb towards Lilou waving a stick around like it's a wand, "Slowly, but surely, draining my mobile data watching slime videos."

Ki almost pities him, "Slime videos? That's low."

"I normally like it low, but alas," Issa presses his lips together tightly, "You coming or not, kiwi?"

Ki raises an eyebrow, "Kiwi?"

"I'm assuming since I'm officially your chauffeur, may as well start up on a nickname basis."

"Oh, alright then," Ki glances down at the clock on his phone, then back at Issa, "Sure, why not."

To Issa's dismay, they barely hold conversation in Issa's small car. The strange, alien squishing and squelching sounds of slime videos on full volume in the backseat is too off-putting, and Issa's not sure if Ki wants the AC on or off, so he keeps it humming at an unsettling level of heat. Until Ki starts to fan himself with his shirt. The AC drops to a cold stillness. Ki hugs his arms. It's back on again. Even Lilou's slime videos have gone quiet. Issa turns on the radio and quietly nods upon hearing Twenty One Pilots mid-song, followed by Lucas Graham.

They get stuck behind a bus in traffic and Issa lets out an exasperated sigh. Ki nods towards the bus,

"If I had my card, I could have taken that bus," He sighs,

"Oh? Really? Sorry about your card. Hope you find it," Issa feels a twang of helplessness and twists around in his seat to check that Lilou is asleep. His lips curve upwards slightly at the sight of the sleeping child with her head leaning against the side of her car seat.

"I'm gonna text my mom. Say I might be a bit late back," He pauses, "Hope she doesn't scold me."

Issa winces at the word 'mom', "I'm sure she won't. Just tell the truth. She can't blame you for traffic."

Ki nods in acknowledgement and pulls out his phone. Issa checks his hair in the interior mirror, before looking back out front at the traffic, then out the side window, then the traffic and then setting his eyes upon Ki.

His glossy, wavy black hair is parted in the middle, just stopping above his slightly thick but neat eyebrows. Long, delicate eyelashes curl around his dark brown eyes. The glaring light that made Ki wince when it was on his face gives his lightly tanned skin an almost glowy look, although, there was a small dark scar on his cheek, just below his left eye.

Issa looks back at the now clearing traffic and drives on.