Kisses in the chamomile field

An ordinary, unremarkable sultry day, on which the sun always mercilessly scorches, forcing the villagers to hide in their cool, in their opinion, houses and show themselves on the street only late in the evening, when the sun has been shining for a long time over the horizon, when the clear blue sky (moments when you can catch your eye with a lonely cloud that occupies a small area, but clearly visible among the heavenly colors, as if a famous artist, whose paintings are admired by almost everyone, dropped a jar and spilled the contents, leaving a lonely area white, which the beauty of the heavenly color did not bother to get on), is replaced by another canvas, only dark blue. Looking at the night sky, you can involuntarily think about astronomy, about life, which quickly flows down from your palms, as if you had just washed the dishes, and drops of water flow down your elbows in small paths, you think deeply, ask yourself questions: "How in an infinite space, as infinite as life after death, according to your grandmother, who is trying to inspire you with faith in God, in a cold, like the castle of the Snow Queen, without oxygen, as if the creator of the Earth decided to turn off access to the necessary, thus "restarting" the planet, like a phone, which you reboot so that it works properly, how can a planet endowed with living creatures "exist" in such a space? It does not fall, it turns around its axis and around the Sun, giving us life, the change of day and night, the change of seasons. According to scientists, if our planet were in fourth place from the Sun, humanity would suffer from a lack of light, the very light that it gives us every day. Why is everything arranged this way? Is there life in other galaxies? What if we had a chance to get not to the Milky Way, but to a completely different galaxy? What do people look like there? How is their daily life going?" It is at these moments, when you look at the star-studded sky, so beautiful, inviting you to count the stars, losing count, as in childhood, when you are desperately trying to find a constellation, and how happy you are if you succeed, it is at such moments that people come out of their homes, enjoying the coolness, leading everyday conversations at the table in the courtyard while they are having a meal, often joking and laughing into their fists from the growing laughter. At these moments, most people experience freedom, freedom from responsibilities, they enjoy life, rest, as if all problems suddenly ceased to matter, as if with the onset of summer all problems were erased from life, just like you erase inappropriate phrases with an eraser in your own notebook with drawings that were so kindly left by your best friend, while You weren't in class. It was on one of these evenings, when the sun went over the horizon, giving people a "smile" at parting, which can be compared to a sky the color of summer, the color of raspberries, which you hate to collect because of thorns, some moments even having shades of peach. It's a beautiful sight, which is why Chuya spends this time here, sitting in a chamomile field, pulling his knees to his chest, and laying his chin on them. With one palm, he gently touches the white petals of a daisy, always snorting with displeasure at Dazai's jokes about why not try to tell fortunes, loves or dislikes? The other palm goes over the sneakers with daisies, which he himself painted when he had a rush of inspiration, that day the guy brought paints and everything necessary to realize his idea, of course, all this was accompanied by the presence of Dazai, who did not distract him, watching the process with interest, sometimes removing the fiery red strands behind the ear, because they clearly interfered with the Sense. "You're here again, in the same place as I expected," Dazai comes up from behind, carefully squatting down, resting his palm on Chuya's shoulder, only to sit next to him and stretch out his legs, glancing into the distance. "Assuming that, I had a hunch that you would definitely bring your carcass here, just to tell me again that I spend all my evenings only here," the younger snorts, reaching out to tangle his fingers in brown hair, gently placing Dazai's head on his shoulder. His fingers run through the soft hair of the man a couple of times, later sliding down to lower his palm onto his shoulder, pressing closer to himself. – You know that our evening conversations almost always start with this, Chu-Chu, don't be like that, – he looks at a particularly beautiful field in the evening, and can say with confidence that this part of the day is always pleasant: when you sit, cuddling up to each other, you are content with the presence of the other, sometimes exchanging phrases, sometimes preferring to sit in silence, which can not put pressure on the ears. – Which one? – Chun is one of Dazai's nicknames, which was dedicated to Chuya. The red-haired man always found it funny that the student next to him did not always like to call Chuya by name, so every time he comes up with new nicknames that are not offensive (except for "shorty", which he pronounces affectionately), even cute. His habits, his manner of communication, his appearance, character – Chuya liked all this, he accepted all his shortcomings (they were like two suitable people for each other, who accepted the other's shortcomings, always knew a way to comfort, always were in a difficult moment, licking wounds together), although Chuya even thought seriously once Unfortunately, he did not find an answer to what really did not suit him in Dazai, so he simply could not really be angry at his appeals like "shorty" or "dwarf". "So boring, Hara," the guy rolls his eyes after his speech, letting out a sad sigh. "Come on, you just started lecturing me the other day that I'm a complete jerk if I don't like cherries," and then Chuya couldn't hold back the flow of laughter, laughing into his fist. – Hey, that's really true, because what kind of idiot likes cherries instead of cherries, which are many times sweeter and bigger!  Nakahara hears dissatisfied speeches under his ear, chuckling at such a statement from Osamu. They spend the rest of the evening in each other's pleasant company, enjoying the silence and quiet, only if you listen, the rustle of the leaves of the trees nearby. They do not need words to understand each other's feelings, they understand perfectly well without them, they do not need words about how important they are, how they value the person on the contrary – they know this, understand it, clearly expressing it in actions, phrases, even in the most uncomplicated things.  That same evening, they laugh, hug, kiss each other, so gently, so carefully that it's like touching lips that try to tell each of them how beautiful he is, how much he loves him, that he will never let him go, never leave, never renounce his own feelings for the other, that if necessary, he will wake up every morning from kisses and fall asleep with them too, even if his parents are at home, even if the distance is great, each of them will always be there, in his heart.