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Winters were a bleak time for Dazai. The cold air, the dreary skies, the dying light; they all reminded him of his loneliness, of the emptiness in him which could never be filled. No matter how hot was the food he ate, or how much warm clothing he covered himself with, he always felt cold.
Today he sat with a bowl of pork ramen. He couldn't be bothered to cook for himself, and the store nearby made pretty decent ramen. He was about to start eating when he noticed Atsushi by the door.
“What are you doing awake at this hour Atsushi-kun?” He asked. It was around 11pm. Not too late by Dazai's standards, but he thought that Atsushi would go to bed earlier.
“I was about to, but that smells so good,” he said, staring at the bowl in Dazai's hands. Dazai looked at the bowl, and then at Atsushi. He really was like a stray cat.
“Well if you want some, you have to come here, I'm not getting out of my blankets just to give you my food.” Dazai said, expecting Atsushi to go away. Instead the young boy crawled under the blankets, sitting on his knees expectantly.
Dazai was half-amused, half-sad. The boy really must have been hungry if he came all the way to his room. As Atsushi slurped the soup quietly, Dazai felt something stir in his chest. He wondered what it could be, since he had his fill; it couldn't be hunger.
Whatever it was, it made Dazai feel a sense of warmth. Something he had missed for a while. Perhaps this was what Odasaku meant when he said that being on the side of good would be better for him? Either way, Dazai had only one conclusion: Atsushi had a way of making his dying heart warm. And that was all that mattered with the two of them under the blankets in the cold unforgiving weather.