Atsushi knelt down to remove his shoes. Despite his hatred of bright purple, he had a very nice turtleneck short sleeve, quite tight, that was a darker, less saturated purple. He wore black high waisted jeans with a brown belt holding them up. He had dangly earrings— hoops, actually. He wore white, plain socks, and began to walk about the place. He really did like the original colors of the walls. He even more so gravitated away from the bright colored room, to one of the dimly lit bedrooms. It was all brown, all beige, and two girls were making out on the bed. Atsushi left as soon as he saw that, but was disappointed; he didnt get to be in the nice colored room. Instead, he walks back to the main room and sits in a corner, staring at a friendly walk. It was quite nice, he could stare at it forever; watch its paint dry, even. Eventually, he recognized the two girls dancing outside of the bedroom. It must be empty! Atsushi quickly stands and runs to the bedroom. It was empty. He sighed in relief and shut the door. He looked around, and examined parts of the room. He saw a shit ton of awards hung up on the wall. The bed was messy, but he felt like it wasn't that way just because two girls sat on it to make out and potentially have sex. The whole room seemed just a bit too messy for it not to be an organized messy. Atsushi's arms itch badly and he stops looking at the mess he can't understand.
Atsushi rubs his arms slowly, carefully, not wanting to scratch, because he knows if he scratched, he would never stop. He instead looks at picture frames along the desk in the room. His eyes widened slightly, and he realized who's room this was. A very beautiful man, older than him. Dark, black hair like a void; Atsushi loved voids, he could get lost in them forever. And this man always wore very nice brown clothes, that were at least a bit unkempt or undone in the best way possible. He had a very nice color of skin (not to say Atsushi had any problems with race; it was just that people with very bright skin tones made his eye hurt. More specifically, self tanning people, body paint, and more), and his eyelashes were so pretty, too. He loved that his finger nails seemed to always be clipped so the white part was never growing. He loved that his teeth seemed the most perfect color, too. He also loved the color of his lips, because they matched his pretty skin perfectly. This was not the room of some pot head party goer that Chuuya lived with— it was Chuuya's only and very tolerable (and pretty) roommate; Ranpo Edogawa.
Atsushi wants to examine the room more, now knowing who it belonged to. His eyes begin to slowly drag around the room, as though they had a heavy anchor, begging him not to look away from the one place in the room that didn't make his arms itch. But it's Ranpo, but it's Ranpo, and it's a chance to get to know more about him. More- things I don't know. Atsushi's eyes wander, from the messy pile of clothes scattered across the ground, to the papers all over a bulletin board and desk, to pencils everywhere. Empty snack bags, the crumbs would fall out everywhere. His skin itches at the thought and he tenses up. Don't scratch. Atsushi sighs softly and looks to his bed. The messy bed would've been fine but- clothes and trash on it. Don't scratch. Atsushi wants to fix it all but doesn't want to touch it one bit; he's afraid he might catch whatever made up disease this mess had in his head, and he'd become covered in crumbs or dirty clothes. His head hurts and his arms itch. "Oh, Cmon, I just got my room back." Atsushi hears the door open, and the voice stops abruptly. Atsushi turned to look at him, staring wide eyed. It was Ranpo, of course, most likely waiting for the girls to leave so he can hide in his room. "Oh.." He hadn't expected Atsushi to be here at all.
Atsushi murmurs panicked apologies and leaves the room. He hopes never to see anything like that again; it made his arms itch badly and he really wanted to scratch them. But his nails weren't short, and he had been called a tiger once or twice, due to the scratch marks on his arms that landed him in the nurse's office. He scratched too hard and too much, and wouldn't stop even if he bled. But if that room alone wasn't enough of a motivator to run, Ranpo's presence was. He can't see me like that. He'll know. Atsushi sighs, curled up next to his friendly beige wall, staring at it. Oh, who am I kidding? He knows everything, he probably already knows. Atsushi fidgets nervously. Someone as smart as Ranpo might detest him for his disability. It's not like it was Atsushi's fault, and he didn't mean to be the way that he was all of the time. He looked longingly after the golden student whenever he saw him; he was going to be a detective one day, he was sure of it. But Ranpo only ever looked at him in annoyance when Atsushi would accidentally ramble about colors, or when he'd hastily clean up Ranpo's desk in their class with a lab because it made his arms itch. Atsushi knew he never had, and still would never, have a chance with the smart detective. Atsushi plopped back down in his corner, curling up in a ball.
Seven Minutes In Heaven (Ranatsu)
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