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"What color is the 'color of summer' to you?"
Even though it's the end of the century, a time of constant conflict, I foolishly brought up a peaceful topic. I really, wanted to ask him about it.
"The 'color of summer'... Of course, this is it."
Without laughing at me, he combs his long, refreshingly colored hair with his hand and gives me a cynical smile.
"Just seeing it makes me feel cooler. I like it."
If I ask around similarly dressed men about "color of summer," each one would probably say something different. The blue of the sky. The white of the sun. The red of the morning glow. The purple of dusk. The brown of the dry ground. And, many more. There are as many "colors of summer" as there are people.
Collecting all the porn magazines they can, drinking alcohol every night, doing whatever they want, and living carelessly…Even if they are just such easy-going bastards.
That's all, there are many things that can be felt from summer, I think.
And this is, none other than…"color of summer," for you.
Of course me too, I like this color.
This vibrant color immediately catch my eyes even in the sweltering, cluttered summer scenery. It's unusual color that I rarely see in nature.
I gently touch it with my fingertips, slowly bending the joints, and capture the color in my hands. It has a smoothness that seems unbecoming of the end of the century. The various colors of summer are reflected, faintly reflected. It's like the murmuring of a clear river.
I wonder how much hair dye is left in this world. If a powerful, greedy guy like this keeps monopolizing it, it might disappear completely one day. I wonder when he usually re-dyes his hair. Doesn't he get annoyed every time the original color slowly creeps back in from the crown of his head? If it were me, I'm sure I'd end up going bald from the stress.
"What color is your hair, originally?"
"It's black."
"Black?! Seriously?!"
He has to bleach his hair too. That's a lot of work.
Black hair... Honestly, I want to see it. I wonder if he'll dye it back to black. I'm sure he'll do it if I ask. But once I see him with black hair, I might never want him to dye it any other color. He would be absolutely beautiful.
…By the way, what are we doing flirting, sitting side by side on the edge of a cliff on Sindy Road?
His subordinates. Trading partners for supplies. Other good Warlords.
There are tons of people who admire him, but he always comes to me first.
Is this…really okay? How could someone like me do whatever I wanted with this guy...?
I take another good look at his handsome face.
"Wha-What is it, Sindy?"
Come to think of it, I tend to forget because his eyebrows are dyed just like his hair, but his eyelashes are perfectly black.
I wonder if his pubic hair is black too. Or maybe he's completely shaved. I wonder if he's ever done anything naughty with anyone. If he has, I just really don't like it.
"Hey, hey! You're so close! It's too hot!"
Hmm. So it's not about his heart is pounding or anything. I wonder how I can pound his heart.
"You're too hot in your military uniform, Dice. Why don't you take off your jacket?"
Something's really wrong, with me. I'm dizzy. I feel like there's a fire crackling inside me. Because of you.
It might be, too late. I grabbed roughly by the collar of his jacket as he tried to flee.
"Wha?! What are you doing?!"
He stood up with great force, but then unsteady on his feet, he lost his balance and began to tilt.
Oh no...! We're on the edge of a cliff...!
"That was close~..."
Before I knew it, I was desperately grabbing his wrist and placing my hand on his waist to stop him. By a hair's breadth.
If he'd been wearing those damn shoulder pads today, I'd probably have one of those shiny, sharp gold spikes stuck somewhere in my body. Well, even if that had happened, I would never have let go of his hand, though.
Oh.
I can feel his rapid pulse in my hand, his thin wrist. His heart is beating hard. But I didn't want to make his heart beat like this.
While still holding onto his wrist, support his waist and pull up. This guy…has a thin waist too.
He tried to escape by wiggling his bony wrist like a mole, so I grabbed his thin palm again, firmly and tightly.
"Wow!... This pose, looks like dancing!"
This guy is amazing. Even though he nearly died. As expected of someone who is the second strongest after me, he can switch gears quickly.
...Would you like to dance a…waltz or something like that with me? On the edge of this ended world.
When I slightly gathered up his long hair in my hand that were resting on his waist, and his sharp chin jerked up towards me.
While watching as his thin lips, along with the mole around his mouth, moved as if he wanted to say something, and then I kissed him as if I was being sucked in.
Kissing him is better for me than alcohol or cigarettes. It shouldn't taste sweet, but for some reason it is sweet, and somehow... it's satisfying.
When I close my eyes, the blood behind my eyelids shines through, and the deep orange color is dazzling.
I see. This is also, "color of summer."
Kissing between guys should be just sleazy, but when I kiss him so hard, it feels like everything in me is coming back to life.
We feel that we are both truly alive here, as if we are breathing in a lungful of fresh life.
I don't want to let go of these lips. I don't want to let you go. Ever, I want to stay like this forever and ever.
Hey. I'm always the first to find this "color of summer" again and again.
I hope you are the only one who will never be painted over by the cruel colors of this world.