Ayanokoji learning to be human

Selfish creatures

Humans are selfish.

That is a natural fact everyone knows. Those who try desperately to act like its not true are nothing more then in denial. After all humans are unpredictable.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka became used to this fact early on. After all, he was reminded of it every moment of his life. Any time he opened his eyes he was reminded of it with its cold, bright, eye-burning white walls.

He became used to it.

He was used to only seeing a select few colors growing up because it was unneeded.

He was used to having the only bare necessity a room needed for it to function properly because there was no reason to add things that had no function.

So when he was finally able to see the world for all its bright different shades, he feels it was enough. To see all the different things, were enough for him.

-~-~

He thinks leaving the safety of his dorm room was a mistake.

"Tch, I should start calling you a statue from now on based on how good you are at being still." A gruff voice cut the peaceful silence he was building in the snow.

The sound of snow crunching under the weight of someone walking was getting closer to his crouched position over the white littering the ground. 

He couldn't help but take note of  the vast difference it held between the floors the faculty inhabited. The polished waxed floors always accompanied by the clicking of brown leather shoes. The rustling of white lab coats that blended in with the walls as the professors moved about.

The difference was nice he feels.

"Too good for your attention monster?" the voice continued. That was also different. The professor's voices were always fearful and meek, not gruff and annoyed at his simple existence.

But that difference was also nice.

If he were to look up at the owner of the voice he would see the stark contrast of the purple and yellow against slightly bronze skin.

"What's your favorite color Ryuuen?" He asked, his gaze not leaving the white snow in front of him.

"Hah?" The other voice squawked.

"Colour," he repeated looking up from the snow as he stared at the figure, "what's your favorite one?"

He stared at the purple and yellows adorning the boy's cheek and jaw. The barely visible scars scratched at the surface from the irritations from the bruises. 

Another difference he shared with the outside world. No matter how much his father pushed him for his improvement, leaving a mark on his masterpiece wasn't something he wanted. A damaged product wasn't allowed.

On some days he wished he did. Wished for it as a reminder he was alive and able to bleed. Not something that was only used and showed off. A product that was to be controlled and played with until it broke.

He gave a slow blink as the silence stretched on.

And then. "Why do you always do this?"

He only gave a slight tilt of his head in response.

"You act like...your normal." The boy continued, "that you don't have anything special about you. But your always in tune, your calculated, you know what your doing before anyone realizes your doing something." The boy's hands slide into his green jacket packets. "But you act like you haven't ever had a conversation with someone before. Its like you were never given the chance to learn something so simple. Like you weren't allowed to learn it and your trying now."

That man made him learn something.

A sense of longing to reach something too high for anyone to reach. The sense of approval from that man. Something he's still desperately trying to reach.

But he wasn't allowed to complain.

He was meant to stay silent and never speak back.

The other boy just sighed at his silence as he walked closer to his crouched form, "indigo or lavender. I cant decide."

Purple, his mind supplied, red and blue together.

He gave a quick hum as he focused back on the snow in front of him. There were flowers before the white took them over. 

They were yellow with bright healthy green stems and small leaves. There were clovers that surrounded the patch, twisting between where the stems grew.

He thinks he likes the color yellow.

Yellows the colour of flowers that used to be in front of him. Yellows the sun when it's setting and rising. Yellows the color of the candy Matsuo used to give him when no one was looking. Yellow was the color his dorm room lights were. Yellows the color of old pages in books he read in his free time.

"I think I like...yellow." He said, looking over as Ryuuen crouched beside him as the boy's hands reached out at gathered the snow into a round sphere.

He watched as he repeated the process as three round spheres were stacked on top of one another.

He watched as the boy tear off two smaller buttons around the collar of his green winter jacket, he watched as the buttons were placed beside each other on the tallest sphere on the stack.

He watched as the boy dug under the snow to tug at the grass, placing a single strand under the buttons in a line.

He watched as the boy let his gaze sweep around the area around them.

He watched as he reached for a stick, snapping off a smaller piece to place in between the buttons and blade.

He watched as Ryuuen got up from his crouched position and dusted off his hands from the remaining snow clinging to his jacket.

"A snowman." He supplied, tugging his hands into his pockets.

He stared back at the snowman.

"Looks just like you," the boy snickered.

He didn't pay attention and just stared at the new creation as Ryuuen left, laughing along the way.

He watched as the yellow of the sun melted the creation a few hours later.

-~-~

when he was finally able to see the world for all its bright different shades, he feels it is enough. To see all the different shades, was enough for him.

He likes yellow the best he thinks.