Painting Tigers (Shin Soukoku)

First Impressions are Important

       Classes were long and boring, having drawn on far longer than the sunset eyed man thought they would. His final class of the day ended late at night, meaning the campus was relatively empty. The only thing that accompanied the first year was the gentle sounds of his footsteps against the carpeted floor that seemed to be in sync with his calmed heartbeat. His mind quietly raced with memories of the past as the silence fully settled in. It almost reminded him of the orphanage, when the silence was serene yet eerie, one that could both calm yet agitate him.
       Memories began to speed around him, ones of the orphanage whenever all of the kids and adults would be out in town and he would be stuck at that wretched building. The silence back then was both the calmest thing he had ever known, but simultaneously the most nerve wracking. They never knew when the others would be back and the abuse would start up again, until a certain brunette had come into their life. He taught them how to feel alive for the first time, and he will always be grateful. Except he wasn't there right now, the first year's friend was off in their apartment given to them by the college, probably asleep. He wasn't there to drag his friend out of the impending panic attack.
       There was someone else nearby who could. A pale, sickly looking man dressed in Victorian gothic style clothes with watercolors, two cups, and a piece of paper in front of him. A small cough escaped past his dried lips as he dipped a once tinted brush into one of the cups, watching as the paint slowly lifted from the fibers of the tool and mixed with the water. Carefully he placed the brush onto the paper, preparing the next spot for its inevitable color pop. Everything was going smoothly until he grabbed the wrong cup, lifting it up to lips and taking a small drink .. of paint water. The immediate, and all too familiar, taste of paint flooded his mouth as he quickly spit it out and placed the cup down. He meant to grab his tea.
       "Disgusting, absolutely revolting." His voice was airy with a hint of rasp to it, most likely from the coughing that pushed its way out his throat. He had thought he was alone in the altrium, but that thought quickly vanished as soon as his grey eyes landed on the concerned expression of a stranger.
       Atsushi stood there, having been suddenly pulled out of their memories by the sound of a man speaking and coughing. Naturally, he was concerned, as this wasn't a normal occurrence. Their sunset colored eyes were glued onto a man with pale skin, short black hair with two longer pieces in the front that faded into a white, and paint stains on his hands. He looked .. absolutely beautiful, but for some reason the sight of him also kind of pissed the first year off.
       "Are you, uh," they paused, having to swallow a lump in their throat. His voice was meek, much weaker compared to the one dressed in black. "Are you alright?" He just barely managed to get it out as their hands fumbled with the ends of his sleeves, feeling their heart ricocheting against his ribcage like it was ready to burst out at any second. Every second felt like it was molasses, his face reddening with every moment of silence.
       Neither dared to say a word to each other, just staring in awkward silence as if a word could send the entire world crumbling. As if a singular movement would break the very fabric of time itself. Neither knew what to do, until finally, the man in black spoke.
       "I am fine." His voice wasn't as raspy as before, but there seemed to be contempt and a hint of anger in his words. He wasn't able to hide the scowl that slowly found its way onto his facial features, contorting his expression to one of near malice.
This scared the other man, causing him to take a few steps away before they could calm themself. They had never seen a man who seemed to almost glow like the sun, a man who looked like he could turn the world upside down with a single stroke of a brush. Who's world? Atsushi's. Atsushi's world was already beginning to turn on its head.
       The silence began again as the man with hair as white as the stars began to walk away, heading towards the apartments. Their eyes stayed on the man in black until he couldn't look any longer. This was a similar case for a pair of grey eyes that would refuse to pull away from the mesmerizing, warm beauty of the stranger. Why did they almost look like the sun? How come there seemed to be so much innocence behind their eyes and how much longer would that last?
      And why did it make Akutagawa Ryunosuke falter in his painting?
*
Back in the apartment.
*
       The door swung open, revealing a panicked looking Atsushi. His breath was caught in his throat and their eyes were wide. They practically threw their bag to the floor, rushing to the medicine cabinet the moment they could get themself to move. The moment the roots left their feet, but he never made it to the medicine cabinet. He instead made it to a familiar warmth and a soothing voice. His only friend was there, his arms wrapped around the shaken boy, a bandaged hand stroking white hair in a desperate attempt to help calm them down.
       "Hey," Dazai started, his voice soft and warm like a blanket on a cold winter day, "it's okay .. you're safe here, you're alright." Normally the suicidal maniac wouldn't start comforting someone right away, but things were different for Atsushi. He needed to be held and told things were okay or were going to be okay, otherwise Dazai wouldn't be the only manic in the apartment. Slowly Dazai guided his friend to the couch, helping them sit down. "You don't have a say in this, tell me what happened."
       Atsushi began to explain the .. off turn of events, their hands going every which way as they tried to explain everything. Once they were done they had calmed down, no one hyperventilating and finally being able to breathe. He forgot how great it felt to not be on the verge of an attack. "Thank you, Osamu."
       "You owe me~"
       "Oh, fuck off!"
       "No, thank you, you're not my type!"
       Atsushi felt absolutely repulsed, practically shrinking into himself. "Ew, gross!!" This earned a laugh from his patronizing best friend.