𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀, d.osamu | ✓

𝟬𝟭𝟭

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( 011. INFATUATION )

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✧･ﾟ:┊"LOOK, THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A BUNNY ON A BICYLE,"

Maya shifted her gaze to the one he was pointing at, "No, that one looks like a snowman holding a giant marshmello,"

"It does not," said Dazai, glancing at the girl.

The two were laying on the grass, under the shade of a tree that looked old and had flourished well enough to let the least sunlight pass through its leaves. The grass was itchy on their necks, but it was ignorable. As of now, to Dazai, the cloud on the extreme left looked like a bunny on a bicycle but to Maya, it looked like a snowman holding a giant marshmello, and Dazai couldn't find the perfect angle to see what she saw.

Maya inhaled sharply, "You are an idiot, Dazai."

Dazai hummed, ignoring the snickers the duo gained from people who passed by as they saw a girl and a fully grown man lying in the grass like little kids. He didn't mind Maya calling him an idiot, he knew she meant it in a good way.

"Your birthday's in a few days, right?"

"Right, how did you know?"

"Your friend had mentioned it that day in the library," he answered. He got no reply from her. He sat up straight, and Maya mirrored his actions, "I have to go," he said.

Maya nodded, though, for a while, she wished she didn't remember that he was a man with a job; an important one at that. She didn't want him to leave just yet. He rose to his feet and extended a hand towards Maya who, with his support, hoisted herself off the ground. Dazai plucked a yellow leaf out of her hair, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow," then he leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead but was, unfortuanately, pushed an arm's length away by her.

"Why do you do that?" she asked quietly.

His answer was a bit delayed. "I care for you," he said, "and I show affection to the people I care for,"

Maya's cheeks flushed red and she looked down, finding more interest in the ruffled grass than his face which displayed a warm, genuine smile.

"I'll see you later," he said and walked away.

Maya's poor heart couldn't take it. It felt like her heart was going to burst from beating incredibly fast and her hands were cold but her face was hot. Never, in her eighteen years of living, had someone told her they cared for her so simply and nonchalantly like it was something they said every day to her. Her sisters or her mother had never told her that— it was like they expected her to know that they cared for her and loved her. The last time when she had heard those words was from her father; she never got to hear the words from him but from someone else and her insides felt warm and fuzzy upon hearing those words.