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Many factors contributed to the snow-white shade of Fyodor’s skin—such as his anemia and the freezing weather that would happen to get him sick afterwards.
Though, none of these made Fyodor stand out the same way the glistening snow that fell beneath his feet did. An inattentive expression fell upon his face with a shoulder slouched against the wall of a hardly busy bus station.
Another man as sorrowful as he stood only four feet away. Gazes crossed, rarely, that is. Curiosity barely etched the faces of these two men, but this time seemed to be different.
They had a history, yes. They fully understood yet also fully misconceived the other. Walking, talking contradictions —only a few mere feet away from each other. Perhaps the bus station was hardly populated tonight for a reason.
If they were to both be utterly honest with themselves, neither of them was going to actually leave on the upcoming ride. Dazai merely observed to understand, whilst—unsurprisingly—Fyodor observed for the same reason.
Dazai soon pulled his sand-colored trench coat over his waist in hopes of dissipating the cold, even though the effort was small, it worked a bit. A small notice of difference flickered between the two of them as Fyodor stood unchanged, apparently, he happened to be used to weather as drastic as this.
Such a miniscule detail enlightened the bored Dazai that had a lazy hand remaining on his own coat. Of course, nothing went unseen by Fyodor either.
Finally, Dazai tucked his hands in his pockets and decided to just endure the wind blowing against him. His lips barely curved up in half a smirk —smugness. “Where are you headed to?”
The question wasn’t unheard, but ignored, for at least a beat before a calm “Nowhere.” could be heard from Fyodor.
“Are you lying to me?” Dazai feigned interest, he already knew the answer.
“No.” Blunt. Not much more could be said.
“Ah, okay.”
There had to be a way to break the swirling tension in the air–why am I so determined to talk to him?–is what Dazai asked himself.
This was foolish. This was out of character. This was…curiosity?
So, so many conflicting thoughts and ideas were twisting—spiraling—inside that complicated head of his. He realized that Fyodor drew him in, like some puppet that became aware of its strings.
Maybe Dazai should take the bus once it arrived, he had nothing else to do nor say. Neither could he distract himself with the conversation of another since this damned station had to be empty, only carrying the two’s presence.
It was cold, gloomy, and dark. Not a desirable atmosphere to be in with a man as captivating and unique as Fyodor.
Usually, this weather was ideal for Dazai, it was calming and stirred most folk away, but oh, of course, the man beside him ruined what could have been such a peaceful night. Dazai was rambling again in his own head, complaining too much instead of taking the initiative or just simply walking away.
Dazai was an intelligent man, though he could not bring himself to take the easy way out, his brain seemed to crave any interesting outcome that could come from staying here with Fyodor, despite feeling like his fingers would come off any second (Pockets are useless during snowfall. . .)
Sometimes Dazai wishes he could understand himself, especially for moments like these, because all the brunette could do was feel stupid, which came rare, so he knew this was a problem.
Finally, in one short breath, he did something he never did. Spoke without thinking. “Will you just tell me why you’re here?” Cursing himself under his breath, Dazai made it too obvious how frustrated he was. Why did he have to ask so forcefully?
Sharp, lavender eyes fully faced him for once during this entire encounter, contrasting with the number of glances Dazai shot his way whilst battling thoughts inside his head.
“To watch.”
“To watch?” Was he serious?
“To watch what?”
Dazai assumed the snow after reminding himself the station was completely empty, so Fyodor couldn’t have been analyzing other people.
“You. What else?”
Stunned. Lips agape only partially as Dazai felt something he hadn’t in a while, possibly years.
“Nothing nor no one else could be as interesting as you.”
Fyodor stood there like he had not even spoken in the first place, darkened strands of hair falling past his chin once he turned away. Those strands cast a sliver of a shadow across his lips which, regrettably, distracted Dazai.
He seriously was going to kill himself this time.
Was this feeling the feeling he chased whilst strenuously pining after multiple women?
It couldn’t have been.
The poor man could barely finish his own deprecating thoughts before having them be cut off with Fyodor’s annoyingly calm voice. “It looks like you.”
Dazai was confused before seeing a shivering bird in the distance that unluckily had its nest hidden beneath the higher section of the freezing bus station.
It was an eurasian kingfisher –its chest coated in orange and white whilst the rest of its body was blue. That comparison was odd, random. Dazai could only assume when it came to studying Fyodor’s choices, perhaps this is how he started conversation.
“It does not.” Which came out more serious than intended.
“Yes, it does, it has blue on it.”
“Do you associate me with the color blue?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re weird.” Dazai scoffed, more to himself, though that odd interaction calmed the raging thoughts that now only silently haunted him in the back of his head.
Dazai quickly examined the area once again before deciding it was too late to be out here shivering and contemplating useless things. That odd conversation is going to be unforgettable and he knew it, it revealed a softer side of Fyodor that made Dazai feel weirdly bold.
“Goodbye, Fyodor.”
Bandaged arms crossed against the brunette’s chest before turning in Fyodor’s direction instead of easily going the other way–that boldness still lingering. Being much taller was an advantage for the terrible idea that Dazai barely thought through.
“Goodbye, Dazai.”
Was the last thing Dazai heard from the other before quickly hovering over the Russian –placing a soft, deliberate kiss on Fyodor’s cheek.
Dazai moved away immediately and darted for the direction he originally planned to go–a moment of realization passed through his head whilst so many other thoughts were eating at him as he sped walked.
Dazai wished it had been more genuine, wished he could have relished it.