Promise me that we'll be eternal.
"Hey, Lucas! We're not supposed to be here—"
"—Shhh. You're too loud, Torahiko. Someone could hear us."
It was always like this, though. Red and blue collided often, and Lucas never hesitated to be the one to separate them—to prevent them from becoming purple.
He didn't want to see purple tonight. Because purple was bruise-like, venomous, and hurtful. Purple resulted from carelessness and malintent, neither of which Lucas felt for Torahiko. No, purple was not welcome in their dual-colored paradise. No other color was allowed either, for this moment in time belonged to only the two of them.
A tranquil moment was quite hard to achieve, though, especially when the love of Lucas' life was as loud as a thunderstorm. But it became easily done, considering when said lover could be quite timid or vulnerable in choice moments. And one of those moments happened as Lucas held Torahiko prisoner against the wall with his own body—guarding something that not even Tora could see through.
The artist was oddly quiet, not saying a word as the initial shock wore itself on his face. His mouth hesitated to move, and the sharp gleam of his characteristic teeth were seen in a sliver beyond chapped lips. Lucas stared hesitantly at those lips, but then brought his harsh gaze elsewhere—locked on Torahiko's own ruby-red eyes, which fluttered up at him worriedly. Lucas was only slightly taller than him, but that bare difference in height made all the difference when he was trying to intimidate someone.
It was working, and Torahiko awkwardly laughed his anxiety out into the air. "You're all riled up, huh? Are you trying to corner me? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Lucas insisted, voice softening despite the anger that still resonated within him. His arm was the main barrier in keeping Torahiko with his back pressed against the wall of the room, and it wavered slightly as it held him there with questionable certainty. "No, you didn't do anything wrong, Torahiko."
"So what's the matter then? I don't like being trapped like this—"
"Why do you keep leaving?" Lucas finally voiced his worries, brows furrowing at the negative thoughts encircling his mind. "When you're not busy with shows, you're never around. Although I understand that with your line of work—especially—you're always running off on your own at times."
"Well, there's your answer! Don't ask me somethin' you already know! I honestly don't see what's the problem with what I do, people shouldn't have to be stuck in one place—"
"—But you started doing it more since we've started seeing each other. You know this, too. So why? Is it me? Have I driven you off already?"
"Lucas! That's not it!" Torahiko's voice rose in levels that was not unusual of him, but for some reason Lucas flinched at the volume. Maybe it was the indignant tones in Tora's voice that caught him off guard. The burning red color in his eyes, hair, body, and skin—that hue which said so much and so little about him at the same time—was vividly evident.
On the other hand, Lucas was starting to turn blue himself. His hair, his breath, his skin if he didn't get access to a sweater soon. But he fought the shivers that climbed up his back, and did his best to keep his composure as he slowly let his arm drift back to his side—stepping back from the artist so as not to contain him anymore.
Their colors were starting to bleed through the page, now. He gulped.
"You're sure?" Lucas asked. "I'm never one to doubt you, but I…"
"You…?"
"I want to know if I've done something wrong. If I've done something that made you want to stay away from me. I don't want you to be so far away all the time."
"Idiot," Torahiko admonished, reaching forward and throwing his arms around Lucas' neck. He was tired of hearing such things, and ignored any protest from the other as he moved thoughtlessly. But he meant no harm by anything, and he simply buried his face in Lucas' shoulder, inhaling his scent timidly.
The bassist smelled nothing of his wire strings or wooden instrument. Rather, he smelled warm, sweet, and earthy, much like chamomile. That aroma felt like home now, and Torahiko didn't realize how good it was to be closely touching his boyfriend like this. It comforted him in some small way, such that the wayward heartbeat in his chest started to tame itself unknowingly.
Lucas relaxed somewhat, too, his shoulders unfurling from instinctively hunching upward from the sudden contact. But then he remembered that it was Tora and—unlike him—he smelled like green bamboo, paint, and asphalt. He could stand to be more pleasant smelling than that, but those aromas mixed into something familiarly good, anyway. Lucas sighed, quietly breathing in what he could of his boyfriend's scent. Then he gently pulled away from the contact altogether.
When they broke apart, the red in the artist's visage became brighter all at once. "Idiot~" Torahiko teased again, "I'm not trying to avoid you. I actually want to be near you more. Whenever I'm out on a journey, part of me wants you to be at my side. Or I wonder 'when will I be able to see Lucas again?' It's really annoying!"
"Then take me with you next time," Lucas offered, "so this doesn't happen again. Actually, even if it does happen again, take me anyway! I wouldn't mind. Neither would the other members. I think it would be fun to travel with you, Tora."
"Nishishi! You serious? 'Cause I was thinking the same thing~ You must be awesome to match wavelengths with me, Lucas." His arrogant smirk lessened into a genuine smile, and he reached forward once more to grab his hand. "But it's not enough, y'know? I don't want there to be misunderstandings between us anymore. Okay?"
"Of course," Lucas agreed, feeling much more lighthearted. He cursed at the embarrassment that followed, though. Was he so insecure that he couldn't trust Torahiko earlier? Or was he just unsure of his ability to properly be someone's boyfriend? Either way, guilt stabbed at his heart, but Torahiko's words were enough to heal the wound again. His chest still seized up with a nervousness despite this, however he could tell it was different from the fear and worry that crossed his mind earlier. This was something passionate and feverish.
This was love. And love was bright and colorful like they were. Tonight, it was soft and blue like Lucas, but energetic and red like Torahiko as well. And those colors made something different—maybe not the bruise-like purple Lucas disliked—but a new hue altogether, one that shone brightly between their smiles and flushed faces.
The older of the two was bolder, and reached forward with the same intent as he took one of his lover's hands in his own, using the other to gently grasp his face and bring it closer to his. A mischievous gleam appeared on those sharp teeth, and a clever sparkle shone in the corner of those ruby-like eyes. Then, his lips were bare inches away from Lucas', who shuddered gently at the forward gesture.
Torahiko laughed.
"I know I should probably do things like this when we go on a trip together," he begun to say, "but I'm very im~pa~tient~ You can forgive me, can't you, Lucas?"
"That's unfair," he pointed out, blushing madly as he did so, "you know I can't go against you when your mind's made up. You're selfish sometimes, Tora."
"Ha, really?" Another tantalizing smile, and his lips carefully and purposefully hover over Lucas', not yet making contact. They curved upward in delight, instead, betraying the sincerity in Torahiko's voice.
"Well, can you blame me? I really love you."
Then he kissed him in a quick, sharp manner—teeth tugging at the soft lip, breath choking on itself in affectionate restraint. He was rough but loving as he searched for something more within Lucas, like there was a hunger in his body and soul that could only be sated by his lover's touch. And Lucas was looking for the same, because he let Torahiko's paint-smeared hands run themselves over his face and shoulders, marking him with symbols of their freedom and love.
It was not just red, blue, and purple anymore, but every color outside and in between. It was a palette that spun around and around their callused fingers, bringing their hands together in a harmonious, contrasting embrace.
...
They stayed with each other the entire night, and when it was time to sleep they even dreamt of each other.
But the real dream, they decided, were the lives that they were living now. The real dream was in their bass guitar strings, paintbrush kit, and train tickets that they kept in their bags. The real dream was the two of them, sitting side by side as the whole world went by their window, and the rhythmic lull of the train matched in sync with their heartbeats.
As a passerby on that evening adventure, Lucas watched the blue sky meet red, and in the dying twilight they became a wondrous lavender shade. And the same colored light filtered through the window, and Lucas reached out for it. Torahiko's hand met his own, however—destroying any fleeting thought that Lucas had in mind at that time—and he grasped it firmly while pressing a careful kiss to his bony knuckles.
He chuckled at himself for giving out such a sweet gesture, one that Lucas returned equally with his own hand. Then he looked deeper into Torahiko's eyes, and found a bright shade of violet reflected in his irises. It was the same bruise-like color that Lucas previously disliked, and the same hesitance that once dyed his heart near-black for all the world to see.
But today, it was different. Today, the color was blessing him in a way that he didn't even know, but still appreciated all the same. And maybe it was Tora's influence, but Lucas felt changed. He was no longer lost in that darkness. Even if the world grew darker around them, they had both become light and airy.
For once, Lucas decided, purple isn't such a bad color.
Tell me that our love will never die.