Chapter Text
“What do you want?” asked Ging. The customer chewed on her gum for a few moments, loudly, before answering.
“The usual.”
Ging’s eye twitched.
“Which is….?”
The customer looked back at him, offended that he so much as questioned her. Wow. How dare he.
“I come here every Thursday morning, and I order the same thing every time,” she said, crossing her arms. Ging shrugged.
“Which is….?”
“Well, it’s the same thing, and you’re here every Thursday morning, so shouldn’t you know?” she asked.
Ging covered his nametag.
“What’s my name?”
The customer looked at him, a dumbfounded look on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, holding up a finger, then putting it down. She scrunched her face together in deep thought.
“You want me to remember your drink when you can’t even remember my name?” said Ging, looking down at his nails. “Real classy.”
“Uhg, I just want a medium mocha, asshole,” she said. “And for my name, Bisky. I’m telling you now ‘cuz I don’t think you’re going to ask.”
Ging, refusing to acknowledge her comment, grabbed the cup and started working on it. Arguing with customers was one of the most annoying parts of the job. There was something about being served that just brought out the entitlement in people.
But it didn’t feel the same, not since arguing with him. It felt a lot more trivial now, pointless. There wasn’t any end goal, or ulterior motive. Just assholes being entitled.
“You’re thinking about him again,” said Gel, breaking his concentration. Ging almost gripped the cup tight enough to break it and spill hot mocha all over himself.
“Quit doing that, and no I’m not,” Ging lied.
“Say what you want, but you had that look on again,” said Gel. “Saudade.”
“Hey Gel, how much rat poison would it take to kill a grown man,” joked Ging to change the topic. “Asking for a friend.”
“It depends on a few factors, I’d need a body weight. Also with a hot drink like coffee, his consumption rate would likely be slower compared than if it were cold brew so we’d have to take that into consideration too,” said Gel. “If he consumed too much too fast, he’d simply throw it up.”
“I’m feeling a strong urge to make a citizen’s arrest right now,” said Mizaistom. Ging waved him off with his hand.
“I’m kidding,” he said unconvincingly. “And besides, he’s probably moved on to bigger greener pastures by now.”
“Again, why are you phrasing it as if he’s died. Should I be concerned?” asked Mizaistom. Ging and Gel exchanged a glance.
“It’s his way of coping with the crippling loneliness now that no one is paying any attention to him,” said Gel.
“Hey!” retorted Ging. Gel shrugged.
“Well, now that Pariston mysteriously disappeared, and Cheadle’s refusing to talk to you, you seem kind of… how do I put it… crabby?” suggested Gel. Ging narrowed his eyes.
“Cheadle isn’t… Refusing to talk to me… She’s just working a different schedule,” said Ging. But even he didn’t believe it. Every next word that came out of his mouth just served to prove Gel’s point.
It was true. He hadn’t seen her in weeks after she asked Netero if she could start working afternoons instead of mornings. At first Ging assumed it was because she had a scheduling conflict, but after talking to some of his other coworkers, it seemed to be a bit more than that. Sure, they’d had a bit of an argument, but was she really ghosting him over this? Maybe this was the part where he was supposed to contact her, to tell her “wow, you were right about Pariston having an unhealthy obsession with me”. But every time he pumped the numbers into his phone, his hands felt clammy, hovering over the call button before he’d toss it off to the side. No, it didn’t feel quite right. They were both adults, if she wanted to reconcile with him she’d have to be the one to restore the status quo.
“Yeah, you have been really crabby lately,” said Mizaistom. “Do you need to talk about it?” Ging rolled his eyes.
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” said Ging. “Seriously, you guys take one psychology class and suddenly you’re pathologizing everything.” He passed the coffee off to the lady who ordered it and sighed. At least the morning rush was over, now only stragglers would be coming in.
Until he spotted an unmistakable flash of blonde hair. No.
It couldn’t be.
It’d been weeks. The reviews had stopped, Ging knew it for sure since he’d been checking the website obsessively every few hours. Pariston always reviewed every place he went, which meant from the lack of reviews anywhere that he’d likely gone home recently. Yet it was impossible to discount the possibility that he was screwing with him again in some sort of 4 dimensional chess game to get Ging to miss him in his absence.
The end goal was the same. He’d have been just fine never seeing Pariston again in his life, but there was a sliver of smug satisfaction at the idea he’d decided to come back and try his luck again despite the shitshow he performed last time they were around each other.
“Let me handle this,” said Ging. He reached down below the register for his box of items he’d stashed there a few weeks ago. He pulled out the “Do NOT Serve” frame with a picture of Pariston he ripped from his Yelp profile and stuck it on the counter. He then put the “Banned For Life” sign on the door facing out, locking it as Pariston obnoxiously knocked on the window.
“Go fuck yourself!” shouted Ging through the glass. Pariston’s smile didn’t falter.
“Ging, there are children here,” said Miziastom. Ging looked over at the shop where some kid was chewing on a crayon as his mother scrolled through Facebook on her computer.
“So?”
“I… alright,” said Mizaistom, not knowing what to say next. Ging smirked and flipped Pariston off through the window, getting a scowl from the troublesome twink.
But his win couldn’t last long. Ging could feel the eyes of a coldhearted predator boring through the back of his head. He spun around in a cold chill, ready to embrace whatever came next.
“Ging? Mr. Netero wants to see you in his office,” said Beans, dumb smile across his face as usual. Ging sighed and left the half finished order on the counter. What could Netero possibly want now?
Ging groaned as Beans ushered him towards the back room. Netero was sitting at his desk doing some sort of crossword. Wait no, Ging narrowed his eyes at the Playboy magazine face down on the ground, looking as if it hastily dropped the moment Ging came back into the room. He clicked his tongue. Classic Netero.
“I bet you’re wondering why I called you here,” said Netero, spinning around ominously in his chair.
“Not particularly.” replied Ging, taking his hat off to let his hair aerate. Beans took a seat upon Netero’s leg. Ging scrunched up his nose. He was not in the mood to see any BDAs (Beans Displays of Affection).
“Frankly put, there’s a few reasons I could get into. The first being your abhorrent attendance record for your classes. I mean, come on, you’re only in two classes right now, what the hell are you even doing with the rest of your time?” asked Netero. Ging scratched the back of his head. Oh yeah. He totally forgot that this was going to come back to bite him in the ass at some point.
“I’ve been working on some…. Personal projects…” He didn’t feel the need to get into the details of the game he’d been coding with a few of his friends. Netero would never understand, he was too old and technologically incompetent.
“Not to mention your TA ratings are some of the lowest in the department,” said Netero. Ging winced.
“To be fair, most people rate a 3 as “nothing is wrong” and a 4-5 as going above and beyond,” explained Ging. “So if you take the average ratings that my students give all their other TAs and normalize my ratings with that, then you’ll see where I rank.”
“But that’s just it, you’re not taking this seriously enough to go above and beyond,” said Netero. “There’s an archaeological dig excursion being funded by one of your professors in a month, the one in Arizona, right? And if I jog my memory correctly, you were signed up to go?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, start putting more effort into your classes and TA-ing and I’ll make sure you stay on the approved list,” said Netero. “Have some passion about something.”
“Right, right, I can do that,” said Ging, not internalizing any of it. “I honestly thought you were going to call me in here to talk about Pariston so quite honestly I’m relieved-”
“Now about Pariston,” started Netero. Ging groaned internally and a little bit externally. “It’s been quite some time, and I see that the rating is still a 4.”
“Literally why do you care, we have an average rating of a 3.1 on Yelp anyways, it’s already higher,” complained Ging. Beans’ eyes widened.
“Don’t you want to help this business and see it succeed?” asked Beans, in his good nature. Ging winced at him.
“Try to be pleasant. You know why you’re here, right?” asked Netero.
“In exchange for funding my degree and living space I have to work here since you think customer service jobs create a well rounded person,” deadpanned Ging.
“In any line of work, you’re going to run into difficult people, Ging, it’s better you learn some productive ways to deal with them. I’ve seen how you handle things, and one of these days it’s not going to work,” said Netero. “Just try, at least. Please?”
Ging rolled his eyes as he put his hat back on and left Netero’s office. Uhg, why did it always feel like he was getting into trouble, it was not a pleasant meeting at all.
Ging exited Netero’s office and looked over at the door area. Well, better to get this over with sooner. He took down the signs and opened the door.
“You can come in, no kids here for you to kidnap,” sassed Ging, tossing the signs to Mizaistom. “Or at least none I care about.” It was really, really, petty, but pretending that this was his own decision and not Netero forcing him to do it stroked his ego something fierce.
He went back to the register, avoiding eye contact with Pariston who was probably smirking obnoxiously. Maybe he thought Ging was playing into his bullshit. Maybe he thought he conceded. No. The less he looked for it, the less he had to leave confirmed. As the line drew shorter and shorter, Ging kept his focus off Pariston.
That was, until it was his turn to order.
“Hello, Ging,” said Pariston, eyes dark and glassy as usual. Ging looked down at his hands. He could suck it up, take Pariston’s order, then be off on his merry way. Pariston was increasing the rating every time he came anyways, so there was a good chance that no matter how he acted here, he’d get the five star anyways. But there was the possibility that Pariston could just keep him in limbo forever, always promising that fifth star but never forfeiting it.
It was just as much of a game as Pariston always liked to play. Figuring out the game was the first step. Then he’d find the strategy.
No. Fuck that. Ging stared at him, holding his expression as still as possible.
“Hem hem,” said Pariston, clearing his throat as he stayed over at the counter. “I said hello to you.”
“And?”
“You see, Ging, usually when people say hello to you, you’re supposed to say hello back. Especially when you haven’t seen them in a while,” said Pariston.
“So?”
“Aren’t you going to take my order?”
“No. Next!” Ging called out, looking at the person behind Pariston.
“Can I get a cappuccino-”
Pariston snapped his arm in front of the man horizontally to block him from fully approaching the counter to order.
“Ging, I came here for a coffee. I expect I’m going to get my coffee,” said Pariston.
“Too bad,” said Ging, putting the ingredients into a ceramic coffee cup for his customer. If his memory served right this guy usually drank it in the café itself.
“Here, take this, on the house,” said Ging, softening his voice. He reached over the counter to carefully pass it to the man standing behind Pariston, who offered him a sympathetic glance. Maybe it was because he was getting free coffee, but Ging could almost see a slight smile on his face. “Thanks for being a valued customer.”
“I’m a valued customer,” said Pariston as he pointed to himself, still staying up at the customer.
“Wow. You weren’t joking. He really is a hell customer,” said Gel. Ging shot her a glare. Pariston’s eyes lit up.
“Ging talks about me? Well look at that,” said Pariston, walking his fingers along the ordering counter slowly. “You know, you can talk to me, too. I’m right here.” Shit, there were no more customers behind him to cuck him with. Unfortunate.
“No, screw that,” exhaled Ging. “You said you wanted a coffee? I’ll make you a fucking coffee.” Ging pulled out a cup. He’d been preparing for this, gathering all the ingredients. Like a witch adding parts to a potion, he began working on the drink, accessing the dark recesses of his mind to recall the memory. Three shots of espresso, half decaf and caffeinated half hazelnut tears. Just a little dollop of honey, nothing more, nothing less. Two goat creams, one cow cream, and half a horse cream. He topped it off with a berry blend and some freshly cut passionfruit distributed evenly throughout the drink. Two tablespoons of prune syrup, and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg on top of the whipped cream unmixed.
“Wow, Ging, you remembered my order,” said Pariston, smile spreading across his face. The woman from earlier who ordered the mocha, Bisky, shot daggers with her eyes at him from across the room. “What are we?”
Wait. Maybe Netero had some merit to what he was saying. He was going to have to deal with difficult people his entire life, and there wasn’t a rhyme or reason to it. Everyone was uniquely difficult, but never as difficult as Pariston. If he could figure out how to shake Pariston off, other people would be a piece of cake.
Now, what made him tick? Ging started to recall the memories in his mind. Pariston seemed to like, no, thoroughly enjoy it when he snapped at him. No, it wasn’t the snapping that made him excited. It was that it was directed towards him. No wonder he kidnapped Gon, his attention had been divided in a way where Pariston was no longer the center of his focus. And well, he just couldn’t handle that, could he?
The way to defeat him wasn’t to play into his games, or try to one up him. No, it was to ignore him. Treat him just like any other customer. No special drinks, or quips.
Pariston put a hundred dollar bill on the counter. Ging pocketed it.
“Next,” shouted Ging, ignoring Pariston’s advances. Thankfully, there actually was someone in line behind Pariston this time.
“I want my change,” said Pariston. Ging opened the register and put a single nickel on the counter.
“Hi, what would you like?” Ging asked the woman behind Pariston. Pariston, realizing a few more people entered through the door, grabbed his drink and proceeded to sit in the exact same spot he usually sat in, way at the back of the café. He promptly pulled out his black laptop, and started typing away.
Good. Maybe he was finally finished messing with him since it wasn’t fun anymore. He’d gotten his incongruently mixed drink, a few snappy comments, and Ging actively glaring at him. Perhaps that was enough to curb him for the time being.
Well, he wasn’t that bad today. A bit needy, sure, but that was just how he was. Ging shook his head. What was he thinking, no, Pariston was a total jackass.
Ging’s phone started buzzing again. His eyes lit up. As he was almost impossible to get ahold of, people rarely called him unless they really needed or wanted to. It must have been something very important.
But the moment he looked at his lock screen, he felt his insides curdling. Oh. Right. He’d turned on notifications for Pariston’s reviews to check whether or not he was still in town or not. And right now, Pariston had posted three new ones, all for Bean ‘N Cream.
★☆☆☆☆ “Hello, Ging”
First of all, I am egregiously appalled at your treatment of me. Blacklisting a valued and supportive customer is unheard of, I have been nothing but kind to this establishment. My contribution to this café is unsurpassable. I have provided multiple insights for how to improve the setting. I even watched your son for you while you worked, and what do you do? Ignore me? I’m willing to let it slide. You’re too much of a coward to commit to things, isn’t that why Alicia left you? Why you don’t have custody of your son?
That’s why you left me at dinner, wasn’t it?
-Pariston Hill
★☆☆☆☆ “Ging. I’d Like To Order a Scone. Raspberry.”
You remembered my drink order correctly, but I feel it lacks the same soul and engagement I’ve come to expect from a passionate man like you. It is, quite frankly, just a drink. No more, no less.
That being said, I am quite peckish and require something of substance to eat, preferably a sort of pastry your establishment is known for. I have yet to try the raspberry scones, but I hear they leave much to be desired. Perhaps you could craft one that would be worthy of a better rating?
Oh and some coffee to wash it down with. Complimentary of the barista himself.
-Pariston Hill
★☆☆☆☆ “Ging, Pick Up Your Phone.”
Making me come find you after all this time? Do you like to be sought after, like some sort of jewel or prize? You never reach out to the others in your life. Either you don’t care, or you think they don’t care. Here’s a hint, perhaps if you’re missing someone, shoot them a text, don’t just hover over the call button and close your lock screen.
People like it when you’re attentive, it shows them that you care. No wonder the people in your life don’t think you care about them, that you’re cold and push people away. I notice your friend hasn’t been joining you for shifts, did the two of you get into an argument? I’m sure if you would have apologized, things would have blown over by now. But knowing you, it isn’t that simple, is it? You’re allergic to apologizing, because that admits that you’re the one at fault.
-Pariston Hill
“Motherfucker,” muttered Ging under his breath, scrolling through the reviews Pariston was pumping out rapidfire. The sheer audacity of this man to post this in general, and on a public site, no less. Just roasting him right there for everyone to see.
Ging could feel the blood boiling in his head as he read through them once more, to fully internalize everything Pariston had said about him. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t allergic to apologizing. And he certainly wasn’t going to fall into Pariston’s petty mind games again.
…
Except that he did.
Ging poured a cup of piping hot black coffee into a cup and made a beeline for where the pompous prick was sitting.
“Oh, Ging, did you get my scone?” asked Pariston, seeming to perk up in his chair with even better posture than he normally had. Ging grinned in malice.
“No, Pariston, I did not get you a scone,” he said, gripping the coffee cup. “Take down the ratings.”
“And why should I do that? I was merely speaking my mind, and quite frankly I’m just giving you the feedback you need to improve on so that you can finally get a fifth star,” said Pariston, closing his computer screen. “And you’re certainly not going to get that star by ignoring me.”
“Pathetic,” said Ging. “Threatening me for attention.” Pariston cocked his head to the side.
“At least my threats have some merit behind them,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Ging gripped the coffee cup tighter. No, he shouldn’t.
He wanted to but….
“I don’t know why you think I’m a coward,” said Ging, taking a step closer. “Having a bit of restraint isn’t cowardice, it just means I know how to pick my battles.”
“Oh?”
“But after a little bit of thought, I’ve decided I’m picking this one,” said Ging, tipping the coffee cup over. A torrent of near-molten liquid streamed out of the cup, and at it was at that moment Ging realized he couldn’t stop it, the force of gravity was not something to be reckoned with. A dancing plume of steam taunted him, rising upwards as the coffee fell, only for the liquid to fall from Pariston’s lap to meet its ultimate resting place on the floor, dripping off his dress pants and the chair.
Before he could even process what was happening, he felt a hand grab him by his apron, pulling him down as Pariston stood up, looming over him. Their height difference had never been as apparent as it was now. No longer did he have a smile on his face, no, this was something worse. A look of disdain,
Of course, it was fun to tease, but once the consequences of taunt became real there was no turning back.
“Let go,” snapped Ging, grabbing Pariston’s wrist to tug it away. But Pariston’s iron strong grip refused to falter. “C’mon, I only evened out the score.”
“So you don’t hate me?” asked Pariston. Ging knit his eyebrows together. What the actual fuck was he going on about right now?
“What?”
“Hit me,” said Pariston, narrowed eyes complimenting his sinister smirk. “I know you want to. I see you balling up your fist, muscles twitching just to hold yourself from doing something you’re going to regret.”
“I don’t-“
“Cowardice strikes again, I see the way you look at me with contempt for the things I’ve said and done. You believe it’s restraint holding you back, but I know it better than you. You’re afraid. You can’t handle things that don’t go your way,” said Pariston. “No wonder Gon was so easy to take on a walk, he’s probably craving a father figure and would go off with any semi-presentable man who asked. You really ought to be ashamed of yourself, Ging, what if I was a-“
Whatever single thread of patience he’d spun that morning was stretched so thin that not only did it snap but the whole strand unraveled and fell to the floor, only to then be incinerated with rage. The crack of his knuckles against Pariston’s jaw was almost deafening. The other man looked back in surprise, bringing his hand up to touch the site, opening and closing his mouth as if he were tasting the sour flavor of his own blood, or perhaps the words he’d been so keen on moments before.
“Fucking leave Gon out of this,” said Ging, pushing Pariston backwards. A little bead of blood began to form on the edge of Pariston’s mouth, busted lip.
“Sensitive much? If you care about him so much then why don’t you have custody over h-“
A second punch landed, this time on Pariston’s torso. Unlike the first one, it didn’t feel cathartic at all. No, this one made him feel guilty, like he’d been manipulated into giving Pariston exactly what he wanted. He wanted Ging to fight him, to get emotional and lose his temper. The ultimate form of paying attention to someone: hating them.
Pariston shoved him backwards, Ging narrowly regaining his balance just soon enough as not to fall over. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. More like four or five beads of sweat, come to think of it.
“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at me, you’ve been wanting to do this for a while-”
He hit him again. This fucker was so going down-
Which is exactly what would have happened had the cops not come to arrest him.
“Sir you are under arrest for disorderly conduct,” said the officer, holding Ging chest down against the table. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in court.” Ging conceded and allowed the man to handcuff him, only to notice Pariston was also in cuffs, looking just as surprised as he was. This couldn’t be good. This could not be good at all…
“Did you call the cops on us?” Ging shouted over to Mizaistom. “Seriously?”
“I actually didn’t,” said Mizai, holding his hands palm out to Ging. “Honestly, I swear.”
“He’s right we just saw a disturbance when we were on our way to get our late morning coffee,” said the officer over by Pariston.
“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, it was all consensual-“
“Anything you say can and will be used against you. I’m sure the other patrons in the establishment wanted to enjoy their coffee without a risk of injury” asked an officer.
“I know I sure did,” said Bisky, offhandedly. Ging shot her the nastiest look he could muster. The nerve of some people. She took a long sip of her drink, keeping eye contact with Ging.
Well, this sucked. Fortunately the car ride over to the station was perfectly quiet. Pariston seemed to be pensive, for once. It wasn’t like he was complaining, but he’d expected there to be a bit more banter out of him.
After a long and tedious search, they’d taken the contents of his pockets (his watch, wallet, necklace, pocket knife, and phone), made him sign paperwork, did a background check, questioning about the incident, and brought him to the communal phone.
“You get a minute to call someone. All calls will be monitored,” said one of the officers as Ging fiddled with the twisty cord of the phone.
“Got it,” he said in a resigned voice. But who to call? Mito? Nah, that was the worst option. Forget bail, she’d probably just leave him here and tell Gon about “his father, the convict.” Horrible option, really.
Netero? Nah, the old man’d probably get a kick out of this and keep him here for fun. Then fire him later. Plus, now that he thought about it, he didn’t have his number memorized. So that left…
Cheadle.
His heart beat started to quicken as he heard the tones each of the different numbers made when pressed. He sighed as he heard the last tone, suddenly regretting everything when the ringer started. What was he even going to say to her, anyways? “Hey Cheads, guess who got arrested for disturbance of the peace 🤪 can I have bail money?”
This was a mistake. Ging hung the phone back up on the wall. Hopefully she’d ignore the call.
He had more annoying matters to think about now, after they took him to the holding room. Of course Pariston was here. Figured.
He sat down away from him as far as possible, in the corner of the room.
“Ging-”
Ging leaned against the wall and flipped his hat brim down so it covered most of his face. He didn’t want to see or hear Pariston right now. It was his fault he was in this fucking mess in the first place. Well, half his fault. He’d still thrown the first punch, sure, but if Pariston hadn’t been so goddamn annoying…. Ging sighed loudly. Fuck, this was his fault. If he’d just been able to control his temper a bit better, none of this would have happened.
Which was almost impossible to do when Pariston was pushing all his buttons. Constantly.
“Hey, Ging….”
He ignored him again, not so much as even sending him a glare of annoyance. It wasn’t until the fifth time did he finally crack, taking the tilted hat off and slapping it back on his head upright. It felt like they’d been there for hours, but judging by the time on the clock it had only been fifteen minutes. There was no way he was going to get out of this without going insane if Pariston kept it up.
“What the fuck do you want?” snapped Ging. Pariston tapped his index fingers together. The longer his silence continued the more harrowing it felt, like Pariston was watching and waiting as a cat stalks its prey. Finally, he spoke again.
“I just wanted to say I hadn’t expected us to get arrested,” said Pariston. Ging’s eye twitched.
“You mean to tell me you’ve been annoying me for a quarter of an hour to tell me that you didn’t expect to get arrested for taunting me into a fight?” asked Ging. “Gee. I’m so relieved. This fixes everything.”
“I hardly expected you to go through with it. You do have a history of commitment issues. However, you are impulsive,” said Pariston, bringing his handcuffed hands up to his chin in a thinking position that looked doubly stupid with the other hand just hanging there. “I guess that’s just something I like about you, you’re unpredictable.”
“If you like me then why the fuck did you get us arrested,” said Ging through gritted teeth. “Fuck, if they finish digging up the rest of my court files, I’m going to lose partial custody of Gon. Are you fucking happy?” Pariston’s expression changed.
“Seriously?” he asked, knitting his eyebrows together.
“YES.” Ging couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’ll get deemed unfit to parent for whatever battery charges they put on me.”
There was an uncanny silence, a stillness in the air.
“I suppose I took it a bit too far,” Pariston seemed to almost exhale.
“Yeah, you think?”
“I felt really hurt when you left me at dinner, I stayed up all night thinking what was wrong with me? You were so eager to take me out, then so… disinterested at dinner, not to mention you left early. I didn’t even get your number,” said Pariston. “So I did the only thing I could think to get your attention back once I figured out why it wasn’t on me anymore.”
“Kidnap my son,” Ging deadpanned. “Real genius move there, wow, I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of that one.” Pariston looked down at his hands. Ging sighed.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Chasing after someone who only wants to push others away,” said Pariston, shaking his head. Was he aware of his apparent abandonment issues or was this just a lucky guess?
“I didn’t ask you to… take an interest in me,” snapped Ging. Pariston smiled at him, corner of his mouth bleeding slightly from the cut on his lip.
“Exactly.”
Again, silence.
“I would have liked to go on a proper date with you,” said Pariston, looking off to the side. “I think it would have been fun.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ging said, half assed. “If things were very, very different.” Pariston nodded along.
“But where’s the fun in that?”
Ging woke up abruptly to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. It was the first time he’d spent the night in jail, slumped over on the bench and leaning on the wall. Not the most comfortable position, he must have dozed off sometime after Pariston stopped talking to him.
“Huh, what?” he said, disoriented. He rubbed his eyes, the bright light from the ceiling straining his eyes. Before him was an officer he hadn’t seen before yet.
“Get up, you’re free to go,” said the officer, unhandcuffing him. “You can get your apron, phone, keys, and whatever else you left here at the front.” Ging yawned.
“I’m- huh?”
“Your bail is paid,” said the officer, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The blond fellow paid for the both of you and dropped the charges, something about a misunderstanding.” It was only then that Ging noticed Pariston was missing from the scene. It took him a few more moments to process the information he was hearing. Pariston dropped the charges.
“So I’m not going to trial or anything?” asked Ging. The officer shook his head. “Oh thank God.”
Ging quickly grabbed his shit and signed the discharge paperwork. He yawned and stretched his un-hancuffed arms over his head as he exited the building. Well, maybe the blonde bastard’s boundless bounty was good for something every once in a while.
Ging looked over at his phone.
No missed calls or messages.
Normally he’d be ecstatic, nothing to catch up on or strategically ignore. But it felt… Odd. While Gel, Mizaistom, and presumably Netero and Beans witnessed his arrest, virtually no one else would know it ever happened. It was almost as if it never happened. It was a strange feeling, an insignificant feeling. Ging felt like there was an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.
No. There was definitely someone else who knew. Ging called a cab and gave them the directions. Hopefully she was home right now, although as she wasn’t working mornings anymore she probably was…
He knocked on the door a few times before she opened it.
“Hey, Cheadle,” Ging awkwardly held his hands behind his back as he waited in the door of her apartment. “Can we talk?” Cheadle’s eyes widened.
“Ging!” she exclaimed. “Mizaistom told me what happened, I heard you were arrested. Anyways, come in, have a seat. You look awful.”
“Thanks,” said Ging. He popped his shoes off at the door and sat down on Cheadle’s couch. “Pariston paid my bail.”
“And the court date…?”
“Charges dropped,” said Ging, looking around the room. Everything in her apartment felt weirdly sterile, from the vacuumed carpet to the perfectly aligned books on her coffee table.
“Wow, Pariston must have paid a bail and some extra,” joked Cheadle, rubbing her fingers together as if she had money there. “Crime is just legal for rich people.” Ging smirked awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together before looking back up at her.
“But seriously, I’m glad you managed to get out of that,” she said. “I saw I received a quick call from the police office, but I assumed it was a misdial because it was so short and they never called back. Well, until Mizaistom and I talked…”
“I considered calling you to pay my bail but I decided against it,” said Ging. “I never really apologized for ignoring all your advice.”
“Oh, right,” said Cheadle, scratching the back of her head. “I did disappear on you for a bit.”
“You were right about Pariston. I should have listened to what you were telling me,” said Ging. He could feel the words sticking in his throat awkwardly, Pariston’s “you’re allergic to apologizing” words ringing in his ears. Eat that, Pariston. This was totally an apology. Cheadle waved her hand down.
“Water under the bridge,” she said. “To be honest I switched my schedule because watching you interact with him was stressing me out. It was like he brought out a completely different person in you.”
“Yeah, I he knew how to push all my buttons,” said Ging, shifting uncomfortably on Cheadle’s couch. She gave him a sympathetic glance.
“I’m glad you’re okay, though,” she said, awkwardly putting her hand on his shoulder before immediately taking it off. Ging nodded his head.
“What! I mean it!”
“I wasn’t doubting you,” sighed Ging. “It’s just so strange. The whole event feels like a weird fever dream. I can’t believe I punched him. Or got arrested.” Ging looked down at his arms.
“That’s normal, you’re still processing it,” she said. “Though once you’re feeling a bit more stable, I’d get a restraining order on him.”
“Why?”
Cheadle looked at him like he was stupid.
“Okay, fine, I’ll look into it,” said Ging. A restraining order on Pariston, huh. Well, it was certainly a logical decision, one he could come to expect from his friend. But she didn’t quite know Pariston like he did. There was something about him that didn’t feel quite malicious enough.
A week passed. Pariston didn’t visit the café. It became almost habit that Ging would turn his head towards the door when he saw any blonde walking outside, or any bright color for that matter. But none of them were him.
Another week passed.
And another.
It was a lazy morning, rainy, no one wanted to be out. Hopefully the forecast would lighten up before he’d get soaked trying to ride home on his motorcycle. Botobai was straightening up some of the chairs near the back, while Cheadle was watching him mix and match random syrups into drinks. Or so he thought she was.
“Ging,” she said, holding her phone to him. “Ging, look!”
Ging held her phone carefully as he read the text in front of him.
★★★★★
Decent coffee.
-Pariston Hill
Ging almost dropped the phone. He’d conquered his white whale. Pariston Hill, certified Karen customer, had given him a five star rating. He read over the message again. “Decent coffee.” That’s it? That’s all he had to say?
“You look displeased,” said Cheadle. Ging handed her phone back to her. “You got your rating, what’s wrong? You won!”
“I was just thinking it was going to be more, y’know,” he said, shrugging. “He just said it was decent coffee.”
Cheadle looked down at the message and furrowed her brows together.
“It is a bit strange,” she said, under her breath.
“I think it’s his own janked up way of apologizing,” said Ging after careful consideration. Cheadle raised a disapproving eyebrow at him. “No, not quite apologizing. It’s his way of saying he’s moved on.”
“How so?”
“He’s not playing any more games, not trying to rile me up here, it’s just a normal review. He has no use for messing with me anymore so he’s let me win the game by giving me the rating, thus ending it for both of us,” explained Ging.
“You didn’t get the restraining order on him,” exhaled Cheadle. Ging looked down at his hands.
“... No.”
“Well, at least you got closure?” she said. Ging nodded his head, slowly.
“In a sense, he stumbled quickly into my life and just as soon he was out of it. He came to cause chaos then disappeared,” said Ging, snapping. “Just like that. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”
“Is that a feeling of relief, or of disappointment?” The light from the ceiling lights glinted Cheadle’s glasses.
“We’ll see,” said Ging. “I like to play the cards when they’re given to me.”
Would he miss Pariston? In a fucked up sense, yeah. Yes, he would. The sheer energy he brought to the café was like none else he’d never witnessed before. It had felt like he was just a part of the café, like a loose step on a flight of stairs one gets used to avoiding, or a drawer that won’t stay closed. Even when they’re fixed, the habits associated with them stay, now ingrained into a person. Pariston had left a mark on him. For better or for worse, it was there.