The thing is, that he remembers a lot.

He remembers driving into a sea; everything getting heavier, as he desperately paddles around, an arm reaching out, and fingers weakly - for one little moment - touching soft black material. And the way he wanted to close his eyes and welcome the cold, that slowly turned into an unexpected warmth.

Then he remembers finally grasping that material and pressing it tightly to himself, as he returns to land, where his scrapped feet warm on the soft sand.

With a hat in his hands and water dropping on it, trailing down his clothes and hair.

Then he remembers eyes that are mirrors to an ocean in which he could drown and accept the sinking feeling that would turn into a lullaby, which would lure him into a never-ending sleep. And almost orange hair, that screams fire, determination, will and warmth. He adores its color compared to his messy, dirty gray, that calls worthless and ugly.

Nakahara Chuuya is stunning and he is captivated.

He shouldn't have let himself be caught that easily; it's a great mistake and he regrets in a deep, bone-crushing way, that stabs him more than once in his weak, weak heart.

Because soon his memories are replaced by the color red and everything is so wrong, so disgusting.

The remains of living beings decorate the walls in his dreams and his hands are red, too red. Slowly, he starts to scratch them desperately, unable to get the color away and he feels like cutting them off, and burning them.

He wants to cry, but he doesn't know for whom, because the only thing he remembers are the brown, scared eyes of his first victim - and he knows, that he won't remember them for long. It pierces him in the stomach and he wants to throw up - because how could he forget? And really -

How could he forget to tell his teacher that he would be on a mission, accompanied by a silent man that looks like soft snowflakes and gentle dreams. The hot chocolate is the only thing missing, but apparently the world agrees with him - which is a bad thing, because he is insane, and his existence is already enough of a waste on air - because suddenly he is on the ground and he stares up at brown eyes, too knowing and yet too similar. The man is smiling at him and Atsushi feels like crying and throwing up all over again.

He has found the hot chocolate, except that the chocolate isn't as hot, if the dull coldness in the man's eyes isn't a show, and Atsushi wonders.

Wonders why the man is looking.

Wonders why he doesn't feel threatened even though he should.

Wonders why Akutagawa is silent and doesn't move.

Wonders why he didn't say goodbye to Chuuya that day and now he wants to laugh. Because finally he understands.

"Are you... spilled?"

The mug is broken and there is nothing to contain the warmth anymore.