Forbidden Fruit

By Avantika Roy

CHAPTER ONE

Pink was the color that mesmerized the little brown-haired boy with a delicate stature.

‘Osamu…Your father will be very angry if he finds you here.’ His mother giggled as she watched her child playing with her face powder and trying to apply it on his face.

Osamu grumbled ‘I want to be pretty like mother.’ The woman laughed at his naivety but the next moment the smile disappeared, and a frown etched on her wise face.

‘Osamu…You are a boy. You cannot be pretty like me.’ She tried to reason with him, knowing that such manner of thinking would only bring him misery.

The small brunet of five years, did not bother to listen to her as he applied the red liquid, his mother would put on her lips. He brushed his hair and squealed when he saw that he looked just like his mother.

‘Mother….I am as pretty as you.’ He jumped up and down with unbridled enthusiasm. His mother, a woman of angelic beauty, smiled at his happiness. It seemed her little boy had the power to drive away all her negative thoughts with his insurmountable optimism.

‘Of course, you are. My pretty Osamu.’ His mother pinched his cheeks and he pouted at her swatting away her hands.

‘Promise me…Osamu.’ She spoke with a rare serious tone and he stared at her in an unblinking manner. He knew that whenever his mother used that tone, he was supposed to listen to her.

‘That you will never give anyone the power to control you.Especially not your father. Do not make the same mistake I made.’ She said solemnly.

But her little son could not decipher the hidden meaning behind her words. He just cocked his head to his side ‘What do you mean, mother?’

‘What blasphemy is this?’

A thunderous voice boomed in the room sucking away all the happiness it offered. His mother had a terrified expression while Osamu cowered behind her.

‘What are you teaching my son, you uncultured harlot!’ The man of the house spoke with a glare as he stormed up to her.

‘I..was…We..were…just…having fun.’ She spoke with a quiver and Osamu’s eyes almost became moist in fear.

When a loud slap echoed in the room, Osamu let out a shriek of terror, even more, afraid of the man who was his father.

A red mark stood prominently on his mother’s face and her shoulders were hunched in a defeated posture.

‘I am taking my son away from you…Witch.’ He spoke with a mean expression as he roughly grabbed the arm of Osamu and dragged him away from the woman who had always loved him.

‘No….Mother….I want to stay with Mother!!’ The little boy shrieked trying to escape his clutches.

His father did not lessen his hold on his son, instead, he tightened it, almost hurting the poor confused boy.

The woman of the house felt a deep pang in her chest when she saw her son being taken away by the beast of a man. She grabbed his ankle and begged.

‘Please…Let him stay here….You will kill his spirit.’

The man just kicked her in her face and she fell on the floor as she watched her child being taken away from her, screaming and crying out for her.

‘Noo….Please…Give him back…Please!!’ The woman wailed as the door was shut on her face and locked from outside.

She began wailing miserably, cursing herself for being weak and vulnerable. She despised the society which fostered stringent rules on men and women and she desperately prayed to God, hoping that her son would be different.

She hoped he could stand up to the stoic and unfeeling man and be strong for himself.

Something she could never be.

………………..

Several years later

Grey was the color that haunted Dazai whenever he opened his eyes to face the monotonous and mundane world.

With a yawn, he stretched his arms above his hand and immediately stiffened when he heard his father’s cold voice.

‘Finally, you decided to wake up from your never-ending slumber. Must you always be so sluggish, Osamu?’

But I was exhausted.

The brunet fixed his rumpled clothing and quickly attuned himself to his surroundings. He was in a carriage and they were traveling to Yorkshire to meet with his father’s old friend, the Duke of Yorkshire.

‘Sorry Father. I was just..’

‘Spare me the excuses, boy. You are getting quite proficient in those. Not a noble trait in a Duke, I must admit.’

Dazai kept his head bowed and kept on listening to the reprimands of his Father. There was not anything else he could do, after all.

‘I want you to be on your best behavior in the Duke’s estate. Do not tarnish our family name, Osamu. We are already on thin ice because of that wretched woman.’

She was my mother…Your wife.

Dazai wanted to scream at him but refrained from doing anything so uncouth and unbecoming of a noble.

‘Besides…The Duke will be inviting his extended family and some members of the Royal Family to this fiesta. This will be a good opportunity for us.’

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Dazai asked as he gripped his fingers on his cloak.

‘Do not be foolish boy.’ His father scolded him once again, ‘This will provide an excellent opportunity for you to mingle with others and find yourself a suitable bride.’

So that you can ruin her life just like you ruined the life of my mother.

Dazai felt like someone had submerged him in cold water. This wasn’t what his father had said to him, the day they left for Yorkshire. His palms started to sweat when he thought about interacting with a new person and now his father desired him to woo a woman.

Did his dear father wish to kill him?

Yet, the brunet did not voice his distaste regarding the topic of wooing a lady. He just nodded his head in humble acceptance.

He did not have the strength in him to go against his father. At the end of the day, he was a pitiful and worthless coward.

It was then that the carriage halted signifying that they had reached their destination.

The footman opened the gate and his father moved out after directing a warning glance at Dazai.

The brunet heard rambunctious voices coming from outside and he felt his entire body become taut with fear.

Too many people…Too many.

‘Your Grace…You should step out.’ The soothing calm voice of Odasaku made him take a deep breath. His faithful servant gave him a considerate smile.

‘How many people Odasaku?’ He asked as he gathered his bearings.

The auburn-haired man turned his head and did a mental count.

‘About seven or more.’

‘Osamu...’ Odasaku whispered as he placed a comforting hand on Dazai’s knee. ‘Breathe in. Breathe out.’ He said.

Dazai nodded his head before following Oda’s instructions. After few moments, he felt the panic and anxiety recede within him.

‘I am ready.’ He said in a weak voice and Odasaku smiled.

‘You will be alright.’ Odasaku gave a warm smile and Dazai thanked his lucky stars for having someone as understanding as him as a servant…..friend.

Dazai followed him out of the carriage and his feet trembled as he climbed down the steps of the carriage.

Don’t fall..Don’ trip…Be perfect

He whispered to himself.

As he stepped out of the carriage his eyes wandered over to his father who was sharing a cordial handshake with a rotund figured man. He had a rather large mustache on his face but something was hiding beneath the genial surface of the man.

Something that Dazai could not identify.

As he walked further into the estate, the sound of giggling wafted in the air and his attention switched to a few women who were seated on a large swing that had been placed in quite a vibrant garden. All of them were dressed in dresses of high quality and if Dazai had to guess, one of the women was wearing a cloak made of Indian silk.

All of them were smiling at him, but Dazai strangely thought they were seizing him up as if he was a new piece of meat in the auction. The thought made him shiver in fright and he was too intimidated by their presence to approach them to court them.

When one of the women, a fairly young maiden with tresses of gold winked at him, he wanted to rush back inside the comfort of his carriage.

‘Ah! Don’t mind the ladies. I promise they are not that harmful.’ An amiable voice spoke from behind him and he turned around to find the source.

It was a man with quite long black hair that had been tied into a neat ponytail. He was dressed in a heavy grey fur coat and thick boots.

He waved at the ladies and unlike Dazai, he did not crumble into himself. Immediately the brunet felt self-conscious and ashamed of himself.

He was always such a disappointment.

‘I must confess I am not quite great when it comes to dealing with women.’ Dazai confessed truthfully.

‘Oh! Well, I can teach you everything you need to know. Lord Arthur Rimbaud, Duke of Wisconsin. Pleased to meet you…’

‘Lord Osamu Dazai, the son of the Duke of Westminster.’ Dazai shook his hands with the well-mannered man.

‘Oh!! Isn’t that your father, Lord Dazai?’ He asked as he pointed at his father who was engaged in quite a serious conversation with that same rotund figured man.

Dazai nodded his head at Verlaine.

‘That is the Duke of Yorkshire…Our host.’

‘Oh.’ Dazai said softly. He was quite embarrassed because he had did not even know how their host looked like.

Only if Father ever allowed me out of the house…

‘He appears to be quite chummy with the Duke of Yorkshire.’ Quipped Rimbaud.

‘Yes. Apparently, they went to the same school as children.’ Dazai spoke as they started walking towards the palatial mansion.

‘Ah! I truly miss my school days.’ Rimbaud said with a wistful smile.

‘Which school did you go to?’ Dazai’s mood dampened slightly.

‘I was homeschooled.’ He shifted away from the inquisitive eyes of Rimbaud. ‘Oh!’ Was the faint reply.

To distract himself from the uncomfortable conversation Dazai tried to take in his surroundings and he was pleasantly surprised. The manor of the Duke was basking in a golden glow while sprawling across a large area.

However, the thing that caught his attention was the fountain in the middle of the exquisite garden. A marble statue of a fallen angel stood in the middle of the fountain and the water seemed to form a protective barrier around it.

For some reason Dazai found himself developing an empathy for the angel that had been cast out of Heaven because he sought to be different.

‘Quite a beautiful place, isn’t it?’ Rimbaud asked and Dazai nodded his head ceremoniously.

‘Forgive me for saying this Lord Dazai…but you seem to be quite reticent. Would this happen to be your first appearance in the social circle of Royals? …’ Rimbaud asked him with an inquisitive look.

Dazai gulped ‘Is it that obvious?’

Rimbaud patted him on his shoulder and Dazai did not know how to react to the sudden touch. He settled for a weak smile.

‘Don’t worry, Lord Dazai. You are in good hands…I will acquaint you with most members of the Royal Family in this fiesta and perhaps help you catch up with the recent gossip?’ Rimbaud winked.

Dazai smiled feeling truly grateful to find someone who would help him navigate this fiesta in the house of Duke of Yorkshire.

However, the sudden sound of a galloping horse made him look away from Rimbaud.

His gaze fell upon a gorgeous brown mare with fur that looked to be extremely smooth and luscious.

‘Ah! There comes Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine. The youngest son of the Duke of Yorkshire.’

That made Dazai tear his gaze away from the horse and look at the rider. Immediately, he felt his breath got caught in his throat.

Orange….Bold and brave enough to defy everyone.

An orange that had the power to captivate any mundane person. It awakened a yearning within him….so intense that he wanted to cower behind his father.

The rider’s hair was flowing in the wind as he rode the horse with wild abandon. His blue piercing irises shone under the light.

How could someone be so beautiful?

Dazai could see the strength of his muscles as he sat in the stirrups and reigned the horse to bend to his will.

The brunet had the distinct feeling that if the rider wanted he could make the most headstrong person submit to his will.

He already had the attention of every person on the estate but he was fashionably nonchalant about it.

Of course…He was confident in his skin, unlike Dazai, who just wanted to hide away from the world because he was insecure about his scrawny look

I do not look like a man.

‘He is a sight to behold isn’t he?’ Rimbaud chuckled as he stared at the bewitched expression of the young brunet noble.

‘Yes..’ Dazai told dreamily then immediately froze when Chuuya gazed straight at his face.

It seemed that the brunet had been rendered immovable by the penetrating look and he felt weak in his knees. An unknown energy was drawing him closer to the enthralling noble.

He jumped slightly when a hand was placed on his shoulder ‘There is a rumor that he has bedded quite a few young virgin men, like yourself.’

Rimbaud’s voice made Dazai break out of the spell that had been cast onto him and his reddish amber eyes widened.

Nakahara made a distasteful expression at Rimbaud before moving his stare away from Dazai and making his horse trot through the estate.

‘Wh-what? But th-that’s wrong.’ Dazai whispered feeling like someone had dropped cold water on him.

The Church condemned any sexual activities between two people of the same gender. It was a sin of the worst kind!

His mind drifted to his father and he knew that the man would probably not have quite a high regard for Nakahara Chuuya. Afterall he was a staunch follower of the sermons of the Church.

The enchanting noble is essentially a sodomite and that… stood against everything that had been ingrained in Dazai since an early age. It revolted him to even think about Nakahara as beautiful.

‘Yes…He has quite a string of lovers from all over the world. I have heard that he is a beast on the bed.’ Rimbaud continued and Dazai was visibly uncomfortable with the conversation.

Though he was more worried about his own emotions regarding the topic as he watched the noble step down from the horse and give it a friendly pat before going off to greet his father and the guests.

He should despise Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine….Instead, he felt insanely…jealous.

‘Your Father does not appear to be an admirer of him…Maybe even he has heard the rumors.’

Rimbaud declared after observing the cold handshake Dazai’s father gave to young Nakahara.

‘No…He isn’t.’ Dazai said with a small voice avoiding the curious glance Rimbaud gave him.

‘I should retire for the day, Lord Rimbaud.’ Dazai started to step away, wanting to just lie down in his room, away from all the sudden cascading emotions that left him confused.

As he pivoted his feet, a warm hand clasped his wrist and he took in a sharp intake of breath.

‘What is a Goddess like you doing amongst measly mortals like meself?’ A husky voice said and the brunet turned his head to once again stare at blue orbs which looked at him with an intensity that threatened his very existence.

For a moment, the brunet was too awestruck to form a proper reply to Lord Nakahara, who seemed to have no intention of letting go of his hand.

Then, his brain seemed to register that the ostentatious noble was flirting with him and he quickly ripped his hand away from his clutches. He started nursing his wrist, in hopes of purifying it from the defiling touch of the sodomite.

‘I am not like the other virgin boys you have bedded. I won’t make myself into a depraved human being like you.’ Dazai spoke in a stern voice.

He hoped that Nakahara would apologize to him or show some sort of remorse, but the only thing appearing on the man’s face was an amused smile.

‘That is what they all say.’

Dazai gritted his teeth, annoyed with the shameless and sinful flirting of the man.

‘You repulse me.’

‘And you attract me.’ Nakahara responded in an unabashed manner.

The brunet noble felt his blood condense in his hollow cheeks and he turned away his gaze, not wanting to continue the conversation with the ill-mannered and morally wrong noble.

‘Osamu…Come here.’ His father beckoned him from the porch of the mansion and he was thankful to the man for the first time ever.

Without looking back at either Rimbaud or Nakahara, he almost dashed to his father, wanting to escape the awkward situation.

His heart had started palpitating and a thin sheen of sweat had already accumulated on his forehead. It was all perfectly strange for him and he wanted to retreat into his grey world. Orange was pleasant but Dazai feared he would burn for flying too close to it.

‘You love spreading rumors about me, don’t you?’ Nakahara asked Rimbaud who just gave him a sly smile in return.

‘But my rumors do have a grain of salt in them, don’t they?’ The older noble queried with a placid expression.

Nakahara sighed ‘Arthur….I want him. I cannot rest until I have him.’

‘Quite impossible that…After all, he is the only son of Duke of Westminster.’

‘And we both know about how sordidly old-fashioned that man is.’ Nakahara finished, the excitement had already disappeared from his voice.

‘Cheer up….Chuuya.’ Rimbaud patted him on his shoulder ‘I would be blind if I did not notice the way he was fascinated by you. You charmed our little Church boy too much.’

Immediately, Nakahara’s face lighted up with an insatiable glee ‘Well…then. I just have to work harder to get him.’

‘And make him into a rebel like yourself.’ Rimbaud said with a snort. ‘Aren’t you a devious creature?’

‘Just wait and watch…Arthur. He won’t even be able to recognize himself once I am done with him.’ Nakahara winked before prancing away.

‘Young love..’ Rimbaud giggled with a fond smile before a gloomy expression cast on his face as he stared at a blonde-haired man who entered inside the estate with a lady hanging on his arms ‘The cause for most tragedies.’

CHAPTER TWO

The manor of the Duke of Yorkshire was a mesh of red and purple.

It seemed that the Duke rather fancied raucous arrangements and splendid balls. He was a man who deeply indulged in celebration and merry-making.

It was not like the all-encompassing black of the Westminster. And many times Dazai was too overwhelmed.

From the very first day of their stay in the Duke’s palace, Dazai found himself utterly exhausted with the wide range of activities that the Duke had organized.

There was polo (where quite, unfortunately, Dazai had to watch Nakahara trapeze around on his horse splendidly displaying his expertise with the game), fox hunt (for which Dazai feigned to be sick because he could not bear the sight of a small innocent animal being hunted by men just for sport) and there was the most nerve-wracking activity- the awful tea parties.

It comprised of nobles idly sitting on exquisite chairs and gossiping like a cackle of geese.

The brunet had been relieved that he had found a friend in Lord Rimbaud who seemed to be quite informed about the latest town gossip.

There were many things Dazai came to know from the man but perhaps the most intriguing was that the infamous Jack the Ripper was working under the instructions of the Queen.

‘It is common knowledge that roses are the most exotic flower despite their sharp thorns. If one is patient and passionate enough, then they can move through the thorns and finally touch the delicate flower.’

Dazai groaned upon hearing the obnoxious voice. Probably the worst thing about the manor was the younger son of the Duke, Lord Nakahara, who never missed a chance to torment Dazai with his sweet nothings and his irreplaceable charm.

It was quite vexing because the brunet would feel his cheeks acquire a red contour when the noble flirted with him. It was troublesome….Very troublesome.

With a sigh, he turned around to face the man and found him to be leaning on the wall with a drink in his hand and a playful smirk on his face. His orange locks had been tied into a decent ponytail and Dazai had to squash the urge to smile at him.

‘Must you always irate me, Lord Nakahara?’ Dazai whined.

‘It is quite a delight to tease you, Church boy.’ Nakahara smiled as he sat down next to the brunette on the small sofa.

Dazai grumbled at the word, even though he was unsure about the meaning of Church boy. When he had asked Oda the man flew off the handle and had demanded to know who called him that.

Dazai had never seen the man so incredibly furious. Therefore, he just lied and said that he had overheard from a group of young men. It did not satiate Oda’s curiosity but the man did not ask him furthermore and apologized for his outburst.

‘Please do not call me that.’ The brunet said even though he knew Nakahara would not listen to him.

And he was right because the man merely smiled ‘Okay…Flower.’

Dazai groaned and was just happy that his father was nowhere around to witness him sitting next to Nakahara on the same sofa.

Everytime his father saw him talking to Nakahara, he would receive an earful from the man.

He was not surprised to find out that his father had a strong dislike for the man. According to him, Nakahara was a diseased person and should have been stripped off his royal status.

‘He should be hanged by the Queen for spreading his disease around everyone.’ His father had said the first day when he entered the Duke’s manor in Yorkshire.

‘I want you to maintain your distance from him, Osamu. If I ever see you frolicking around that man….I will send you to Father for treatment.’ His father had warned with a glare and Dazai had just nodded his head, terrified of the repercussions.

However, his father should have known that Lord Nakahara was a persistent man and no matter how much Dazai tried to hide from him or rebuff him, he never succeeded.

‘How are you enjoying your night in this spectacular ballroom?’ Nakahara sipped his wine admiring the slightly flushed look of the brunet noble.

Dazai rolled his eyes. 'It was pleasurable until you came along.’

Nakahara chuckled and Dazai pouted when he realized that the man once again had not taken his words seriously.

The worse part was that Dazai found himself slowly opening up to the diseased man. He felt his heart warming up to the suave and confident man, who was fearless and bold.

I want to go home.

‘You look adorable when you pout, flower.’

The tips of Dazai’s ears turned red and he snapped his head away, slouching further into the sofa. He grumbled incoherently and Nakahara found the sight to be strangely precious.

What spell are you casting on me, Lord Dazai?

Nakahara was pleased that he could spend some time with Lord Dazai without having to bear the burning gaze of the Duke of Westminster. The man was busy playing poker with his father and the Baron of Nottingham.

He must be a frightful person to live with.

He thought to himself and not for the first time did he feel sympathetic towards the noble sitting beside him. According to Rimbaud, the man had never been allowed to step out of the house. He had been homeschooled and spent his entire life behind the walls of the Duke’s manor.

For someone as gregarious and party-loving as Nakahara, a life like that must be dreadful. On top of that being under the careful watch of the Duke of Westminster must have been stifling for the young brunet.

Without meaning to, the words tumbled out with an earnestness.

‘I am going to save you.’ Immediately, Dazai became frozen in his place. His doe eyes stared at Nakahara with uncertainty.

‘What?...I don’t..’ He muttered, an embarrassed heat rising up in his cheeks and Nakahara quickly retracted his words.

‘I meant…That….I would love to wrap you in my arms and ride away with you on my horse, mon amour.’ He ensured that the words came out as flirtatious enough to be construed as untrue by the brunet.

When Dazai rolled his eyes and puffed out a breath, he felt relieved realizing that the man had believed his fib. It was definitely a grievous slip-up.

Upsettingly, he was becoming too attached to the brunet. He had to always rigorously remind himself that the virgin noble was a mere conquest to him. After he had deflowered him, he would part ways from the man.

Dazai’s personal problems did not matter and neither did he care about the repercussions the brunet might have to experience.

This is what he has always done and every ‘relation’ he had ever formed was based on a foundation of lies and false promises. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about….This was the way of his life.

Then why was is it that the thought of ever harming the brunet made his skin prickle with unease?

‘Where is Lord Rimbaud?’ Dazai asked trying to decimate the awkward tension which was still lingering.

His eyes roamed around the extravagant ballroom and the opulent class dancing in it, but he failed to catch a sight of his friend.

Nakahara grew tense beside him. From the corner of his eye, Dazai stared at the man and found him gripping his glass in quite a rough manner.

There was a simmering rage in his eyes and before Dazai could comprehend his actions he was placing his smaller and softer hand on top of Nakahara’s tensed palm.

A soothing numbness seeped into Nakahara and he felt his anger dissipate away.

The touch was unlike anything he had experienced before. Nakahara was familiar with arousing touches and reveled in his knowledge of them but this touch was as innocent and pure as the man seated next to him.

And Nakahara liked it….he almost wanted the noble to never remove his hand. Alas! Good times do not last.

When Dazai realized what he had done, he immediately shifted his hand away with a start. His father would be so disappointed in him if he came to know and the brunet had no one to blame except himself.

He stood up unceremoniously and without acknowledging Nakahara’s presence he left the room in hurried steps. He needed to be far away from the noble and sort out his confused mind.

Nakahara was about to follow him when an inebriated blonde-haired woman stood in his way.

‘I despise your brother.’ She pouted before grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him to the dance floor.

‘Lady Christie...’ When she glared he changed his tune ‘Agatha….You are not in your right mind. Let me take you back to your chamber.’

‘No!’ She screamed but thankfully everyone was too intoxicated to pay much attention to their charade.

‘That….filth….is there.’ She spoke in a harsh tone as she wrapped her arms around Nakahara’s neck. Dejectedly the man placed his hand on her waist.

He had desperately wanted to rush after Dazai not dance with his brother’s wife.

‘Tell me….What sin did I commit to have my husband treat me like I do not matter?’ She complained and Nakahara could not offer any response except for an embarrassed look, on account of his traitorous brother.

‘Was our wedding only limited to me providing him with children…heirs?’ She almost missed her balance while dancing and Chuuya had to hold her tighter around the waist, to ensure that she did not fall.

‘Every time….Every time….Paul goes back to that horrendous….thing.’ Agatha’s eyes had become moist and she was tripping on her feet.

Gently and patiently, Nakahara started to coax her out of the ballroom. But they had only walked a few distances in the lonely corridor until she started heaving and sobbing voraciously.

Nakahara gathered her up in his arms to comfort her and she clutched on him in a desolate manner.

‘Tell me Chuuya….Is it too much to expect your husband to love you?’ As she cried in his arms about her failed marriage the only consolation he could provide her was a few dubiously comforting words.

But her words kept on echoing in his ears.

Love……An entrapping emotion that only made people feel sad and miserable about their lives. He had seen it in his mother and then with Agatha.

Growing up he knew that love was just a fabrication….a concept that was not rooted in reality.

Yet he now found himself at a tangible loss whenever he thought about love like that. His mind would remind him of amber eyes with the softest brown locks and all his earlier stance against love would disappear.

His palm still had the lingering cold soothing touch and he wished to never wash his hands anymore. A smile carved on his lips when he remembered the way the brunet comforted him when his rage became unsteady.

Was it possible for love to exist in this world of clandestine affairs and heartbreak?

…………

‘That ignoble man.’ Dazai grumbled as he marched down the corridors of the Yorkshire manor.

The brunet noble had spent the entire night tossing and turning on the bed, not being able to forget the puerile touch he initiated.

He knew that touching Nakahara had been wrong but the anger inside the man had been like a whirlpool of destruction and Dazai had the burning desire to stop it before it vanquished him.

And the worst part was that it felt right.

‘This isn’t right. It is not.’ He muttered in a disbelieving manner. Yet the words did not ring true in his ears.

It was only when the small glass house consisting of varied birds and fresh green plants came into view, that Dazai felt an innate happiness brim inside of him.

The bird house in the Duke’s estate in Yorkshire was undoubtedly his special place. He could get lost for hours amongst the chittering company of the birds who were not burdened by the troubles of human life.

Back home, in Westminster, when he was kept entrapped within the walls of his large but lonely manor, the sparrows which would play at his window, were his only companions. Observing their casual conversation with each other lifted the spirits of the lonely boy.

It seemed that the birds would sing a tune, only they knew. They could share a tirade of secrets in front of us, but we would be none the wiser.

They were free from the shackles of mundane life and each day was a new story for the birds, as they lived for the moment.

When Dazai opened the door of the bird house, his eyes searched for the red-feathered parakeet. The intelligent bird had become the brunet’s dearest companion.

The parakeet would perch on his shoulders and communicate in his own language whenever Dazai talked to him, and the brunet would feel satisfied knowing that he had been able to share his innermost secrets with at least one person.

This is why he was quite dismayed to find his dear friend betraying him and happily eating a melon while perched on the shoulders of the one man he had been trying to avoid.

Lord Nakahara.

‘I did not know that parakeets liked melons.’ Nakahara told in a surprised manner as he carded his fingers through the hair of the bird and the parakeet happily nuzzled in his touch, not knowing that he was breaking the heart of a very naïve nineteen-year-old.

‘You stole my bird.’ And Nakahara was taken aback by the utterly gloomy expression of the other man. It felt as if the brunet was emitting an aura of melancholy that began to spread across the birdhouse.

The birds looked less happy. The plants were not green anymore. And Nakahara felt himself frown.

But the parakeet, the creature responsible for it all, was happily eating the melons from Nakahara’s hand.

‘So this is where you come when you want to hide from me?’ Nakahara cleared his throat and asked the brunet who had now sat down on the ground whilst hugging his knees closer to his chest. There was a faint pout framing his face and he was twiddling his fingers aimlessly.

And Nakahara found his heart burst in fondness for the brunet.

When he had woken up in the morning from a dream about amber eyes and the softest brown locks, he had experienced unbridled happiness in his heart. The joyous sensation had made him forget all about his brother’s inebriated wife and her sorrow.

It had taken immense self-control on his part, to not break down into Paul’s room and vent out on him for spoiling the lives of two people at once. But he had not been in the mood of another useless lecture from his father and the calming touch of the brunet had helped him feel comforted even in Dazai’s absence.

It was strange because Nakahara had been convinced that the fiesta in Yorkshire would prove to be a dreadful time and he had been quietly fuming on his way back from Paris.

However, the moment he had seen the brunet standing in his father’s estate shy and demure, his entire demeanor had lightened up. In the beginning, Dazai was just a way for him to distract himself from the fury and boredom that lathed him every time he came back to Yorkshire.

He was supposed to be just another name for him to gloat about in a tavern…. But now he has become something more.

Something which could not be defined in simple words. And surprisingly, it did not scare away Nakahara. Now, he understood what it meant to have butterflies in your stomach whenever you came in contact with your special person.

Dazai was his special person.

The reticent and socially awkward brunet who only bloomed into an opinionated person in his presence had enthralled Nakahara.

The brunet noble with his prudish remarks and refreshing innocence was managing to carve a place for himself inside his heart. Nakahara felt his well-worn defenses shatter every time he came in contact with Lord Dazai.

‘I come here to hide from everyone. Not only you.’ Dazai said absently, as he extended his arm towards a small hummingbird who had been approaching cautiously. It seemed the bird could sense his sadness and wanted to comfort him.

‘Why do you avoid everyone?’ Nakahara asked curiously, as he observed the hummingbird slowly climb over Dazai’s palm. The brunet’s amber eyes sparkled with childish happiness.

Nakahara wondered not for the first time, how was it possible for someone to be so inexplicably pure?

‘People confuse me.’ Dazai answered with a frown which was soon replaced into happiness when the bird accepted the nuts he had brought for his feathered friends.

‘You need to give us a chance…We might not be that confusing.’ Cerulean eyes found the amber eyes and smiled in a comforting manner.

Dazai felt his heart beating furiously in his chest and immediately moved away from his gaze. To avoid the tumultuous feelings in his chest, he stood up carefully, to not disturb the parrot, and threw the nuts around him.

All the birds flew towards him whilst chirping happily. A heartfelt smile crept up on Dazai’s face and Nakahara took a breath to calm himself when his eyes adjusted to the view in front of him.

All the birds of the bird house had flown closer to the brunet and swirled around him as if they were greeting a long-lost companion. A friend that had been whisked away from them a long time back, but had now returned with a promise to never leave again.

The brunet’s face was filled with euphoric happiness and he gave a sincere smile to every bird. A positive aura began to radiate from him and the sun seeped through the glass window falling around his head like a halo.

The brunet twirled around in his joy, feeling very happy with himself, not knowing that the man in front of him was gradually becoming bewitched by his sublime beauty.

Nakahara refused to even blink because he did not want to miss a single moment of the enchanting scene, of which he had become a grateful audience.

‘Angel.’ He whispered fervently.

As if realizing Nakahara was not worthy of him, the parakeet flew from his shoulder and perched on Dazai’s shoulder making the man giggle. Nakahara was sure the sound resembled the chiming of church bells.

The man wished the moment would never cease. He could probably move to the afterlife after he had watched Dazai bloom in his element without worrying about his controlling father and the gossiping nobility.

The birds surely brought out a side of him that miserable mortals could never even hope to. They made him happy…purely happy.

Before he could comprehend his own actions, his feet were pulling him towards the brunet and he went with the flow, like a traveler searching for an oasis in a desert.

When Dazai heard the footsteps, he remembered he was not alone. Shyly he looked at Nakahara, his eyes blinking innocently. And he gasped when he saw the way the man looked at him like he was a piece of art.

And at that moment Dazai realized that he would gladly become a portrait for Nakahara to paint. The cerulean orbs which raised waves in his heart conveyed something so magnificent and the use of any words would reduce the intensity of the emotion.

This time a vulnerable smile spread on his face because of the enchanting man who was becoming hypnotized by him.

It seemed that the small birdhouse in Yorkshire was becoming the stage for the unfurling of a new story that only these two men and the birds around them understood. Blue found someone who possessed the key to his heart while amber found someone who possessed the key to his caged life.

What was it? Could it possibly mean that two hearts with different beats had harmonized with each other?

Neither knew but they were sure that this moment would spurn a spectacular catastrophe in both of their lives.

Nakahara brought up his hand and twirled a lock of Dazai’s hair in his fingers. The brunet’s breath hitched and the cacophonous sounds of the birds retreated into the background.

Both of them wanted the moment to stretch forever and neither wanted to ever look away from each other’s eyes.

However, like every wonderful moment in history, even this moment was short-lived and ceased when a servant opened the door to the bird house and announced.

‘Lord Nakahara…Your brother wishes to meet you.’

Nakahara felt his anger spike up due to the interruption and he had half a mind to send the man away from Yorkshire, altogether!

However, Dazai stepped back from him hurriedly and removed his gaze, as if he was ashamed of himself. And Nakahara had to make an effort to mask the twinge of hurt in his expression.

Am I not worthy of your admiration, in the company of others?

‘I am coming.’ His voice was terse. The servant walked away after bowing to him.

‘I will meet you later, Lord Dazai.’ Nakahara said as he began to move towards the door.

‘Um..No..I..’ Dazai started stuttering in embarrassment ‘I will meet you.’ Nakahara said in a voice that left no room for disagreement. He did not wait for an answer and left the bird house, already missing the moment that had passed.

Dazai felt the corners of his face move into a small smile as he touched his hair.

‘What spell are you casting on me, Lord Nakahara?’

………….

‘Odasaku….Do you think I am a bad person?’ Dazai asked the man as he combed his hair, preparing him for bed.

‘What? Why would you think that Your Grace?’ Oda asked with a surprised face.

‘I told you not to call me in the absence of my father.’ The brunet grumbled.

‘Apologies…Osamu.’ Oda smiled as he put aside the comb to grab a soft white cloak.

‘But…Why would think you are a bad person, Osamu?’

Dazai touched the strand of his hair which had been earlier been previously held by Nakahara ‘Do you think love can be a mistake?’

Oda made Dazai wear the cloak over his night attire. ‘No. Love is the purest emotion. But…’ Dazai glanced at the man who had a faraway look in his eyes.

‘People make the most mistakes when they are in love.’ Oda laid a comforting hand on the brunet’s shoulder ‘Though I do feel….. the younger son of the Duke of Yorkshire is not capable of an emotion as complex as love, Osamu.’

Dazai looked Oda in the eyes and there was a knowing glint in the blue orbs of the man.

‘What are you trying to imply?’ Dazai asked sternly.

‘Only a fool would not notice the rigorous manner in which the esteemed young man is courting you.’ Dazai raised his eyebrow at the sarcastic connotation.

‘But I think it is wrong and you should be sterner in your refusals.’

And that burst the bubble of happiness which had accompanied him since he left the bird house, late in the afternoon.

For the first time, someone had helped him feel like he was worthy of being a human. But Oda’s words made the harsh reality rear its ugly face once again. He had thought that he could discuss his newfound feelings with his trusted friend and that Oda would assist him in breaking this news to his father.

But it looks like, he was once again all alone. And his feelings were a Sin…And he was on the verge of becoming a Sinner….like Nakahara.

He tried to control his tears and stiffly nodded his head in acceptance.

‘Osamu….I am not against him because he is a man.’ Oda sighed as he ruffled his hair ‘It is because he is not a good man.’

Somehow this hurt Dazai even more than Oda’s previous statement because he stupidly yearned for someone who must have won the hearts of more people than Dazai had ever met. They must all be better and wiser than him. He could never hope to measure up to his past lovers.

Maybe he was just a distraction for him.

Afterall….He did not come to meet me the entire day.

‘You deserve better than someone who finds emotions to be a mere game. He is not capable of loving you.’ Oda told in a soft and comforting manner hoping that the naïve noble, he was in charge of, will understand and follow his advice.

Once Oda had left his chambers, Dazai tried to sleep but it was proving unsuccessful. It felt like the worlds of grey and orange were clashing into his mind and he was all alone in the pit of indecision.

Lord Nakahara stood against everything that Dazai had been taught since he was a child of five. He was flamboyant, cocky, vainglorious, and a complete flirt. He was someone who would only bring trouble in Dazai’s life by stirring emotions he should have never had in the first place.

His father would be outright ashamed of him and might even disown him. Oda would perhaps be disappointed in his choice. And if the rumors about Nakahara were true, then the man would wash his hands dry off him, the moment things became too difficult for him to handle.

His only anchor in the world would disappear and Dazai’s entire life would become even bleaker than it already was. It would be a whirlpool of darkness and the young brunet was not sure if he could survive it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hasty knock on the door. Wiping the silent tears from his face, he wrapped a cloak around himself and lighted a nearby candlestick. Then he walked to the door with tentative steps.

On opening it he let out a gasp. Lord Nakahara stood there cradling his palm with a sheepish expression on his face.

‘May I talk with you, Lord Dazai?’

‘I do not think it is proper for us to be talking at this hour of the night. We should probably talk in the morning.’ Dazai said astutely even though his heart wanted him to say yes.

‘Oh…I see.’ Nakahara said with a pained expression. ‘Good night, Lord Dazai.’

Maybe it was the crestfallen look in the man’s eyes or the slouched position in the normally confident man, that made Dazai listen to his begging heart.

‘Wait…Lord Nakahara. Please do come in.’ Immediately, a surge of excitement and happiness became apparent on the man’s face. However, it turned into a wince winced when he unconsciously pressed on his palm.

It made Dazai suspicious and he moved the candlestick closer to the man’s hand.

‘Are you hurt?’ And Nakahara could not lie to those doe eyes, no matter how much he wanted to.

With a grimace, he brought his bruised knuckles closer to the candle and Dazai blanched.

‘Lord Nakahara….It is bleeding. Why did you not tell me before?’

Without waiting for his explanation, he grabbed the man’s uninjured wrist and made him sit on his bed.

Dazai quickly closed the door to his chamber, to stop any prying eyes from spreading rumors about him. He lighted the candle on the dresser and opened the drawer at the bottom right.

He found the medical kit, he always carried with him, and with the candle in tow, he kneeled in front of Nakahara. After placing the burning wax on his bedside table, he opened the box.

With the gentle tenderness of a nurse, he took Nakahara’s palm and observed his injured wrist. The knuckles had been bruised terribly and some of the blood had trickled onto the carpeted floor.

With whom did you fight?

‘I hit the wall.’ Nakahara said trying to douse the suspicion from the mind of the brunet.

It only made Dazai more skeptical. He raised one eyebrow.

Why were you punching walls?

The man shrugged not willing to divulge to Dazai about his fight with his brother which ended with the man having a broken nose.

Dazai just gave out a disgruntled sigh and started applying saltwater to the wound to disinfect it.

Nakahara tried to control his pained whimper but failed. The brunet dabbed ever more gently as if he was the one who was at fault for Nakahara being hurt.

That made a fond smile crack on the injured noble’s face. However, he felt all sensation of pain disappear when he stared at the angelic man tending to him.

One strand of his hair had been tucked behind his ear and for some reason, it made him an even prettier sight to behold.

In the simple white night suit and the soft glow of the candle, he looked akin to an angel that had fallen on the earth, shunned by his own kind for believing in something that was supposedly immoral.

There has always been something celestial about the brunet and for the first time, Nakahara realized how undeserving he was of the man.

He almost wanted to grovel at his feet and worship him. He wanted to be the only devotee at his altar and sing hymns of praises to make this beautiful man realize that there could never exist someone more magnificent than him.

He had no reason to feel awkward or shy around people. He was above all.

It was a strange thought because Nakahara had not been one for worshiping anyone, not even God. He was a man of his whims and fancies and never bothered to listen to anyone.

But….he would worship Dazai….. even if the world turned against him for it.

He realized that he did not have the capability to ever refuse the naïve brunet who was tending to him. He would cross the roughest of terrains, climb the highest of mountains, and bear the harshest of weather if Lord Dazai merely asked for it.

Maybe….This is love.

The thought scared him as much as it relieved him. He did not know how to deal with such strong, all-encompassing emotions.

‘There. It is all done.’ Dazai said with a satisfied face as he put all the contents back into the box and closed the lid.

He proceeded to put the medical kit back where it belongs but stopped when Lord Nakahara opened his mouth.

‘Oh! What a sin it is to be the bearer of such great beauty.’

Dazai could feel himself transforming into a flustered mess and it seemed to urge Nakahara who continued.

‘To wield such power that great men will bow at thou feet.’ He whispered eloquently in the quaint room.

‘Please…Lord Nakahara. Please refrain from flirting at this hour of the night.’ Dazai pleaded as he placed the box inside the drawer.

‘Forgive me. But I can never stop admiring you, Lord Dazai.’ Nakahara said with a slightly apologetic tone.

‘Why must you make me confused about my beliefs when I am a mere conquest to you?’ Dazai told in a broken voice stifling his urge to cry at the injustice of the man in front of him.

The man was raging a storm in Dazai’s heart and making him doubt all his teachings and beliefs.

‘You are not…..You could never be.’ Nakahara choked out the words. All his illusion of self-confidence had shattered when he heard Dazai’s miserable voice.

Dazai gave a bitter laugh ‘How many people have you fooled with those words?’

Nakahara guiltily looked away ‘I never meant it before I met you.’ He said in a small voice.

‘Confound your impudence, Lord Nakahara!’ Dazai raised his voice ‘I am not going to be a mere name in your list of conquests.’

‘You will never be Lord Dazai. Because…… you have changed me.’ The brunet noble shook his head and Nakahara’s heart broke when he saw the tiny teardrops falling from his burgundy eyes.

‘You are lying to me.’

This propelled Nakahara to stand up from the bed and move closer to the brunet.

‘Look at my face, Lord Dazai.’

The brunet rigidly kept on staring at the ground and refused to meet his gaze.

‘Please. I implore you, look at my face.’ Nakahara said softly.

With great trepidation, Dazai raised his eyes.

‘I am irrevocably in love with you.’ The noble said and the brunet’s heart soared with relief and excitement when he saw that there was no malice behind the enthralling blue orbs. There was only pure devotion.

He wanted to wrap his arms around the man’s neck and embrace him. But he stopped when his father’s words floated in his head, rudely dragging him back to the harsh reality.

‘The younger son of the Duke…Is a spineless sinner, spreading his disease to countless innocent men. If he was my son…I would have sent him to the conversion camp.’

Immediately his mood drooped and reluctantly he turned away his gaze ‘No. I must refuse your affections because I cannot bring such dishonor to my father. I am not you.’

Nakahara’s eyes sharpened ‘There cannot be an honorable bone in the body of the man who did not even give a proper burial to his wife.’

Dazai felt like the man had pierced a knife in his chest with those harsh words.

‘H-how d-dare you?’ His vision clouded with tears and he took a step back from Nakahara grappling on his dresser.

Immediately, Nakahara’s face softened and his eyes became filled with guilt and remorse. ‘My intention was not to upset you Lord Dazai, it was merely to open your eyes. Your father is not a good man. He is a bigot who hides behind religion and uses it to impose his will on others, including you.’

‘Y-you d-don’t know h-him.’ Dazai hissed out even though in the innermost corner of his heart, he knew Nakahara was speaking the truth.

But how could he stand by and watch another man carelessly toss away his father’s reputation. He could not allow Nakahara to destroy the honor of the Dazai family name….A man must always protect the honor of his family.

Isn’t that right?

‘I know him enough to know he is not a good father.’ Nakahara continued resolutely.

‘He is.’ Dazai protested.

‘Then why are you not happy?’ Nakahara asked with a sympathetic expression and Dazai was rendered speechless.

‘Why are you always scared of that man, Lord Dazai? A son shouldn’t be scared of his father.’ Nakahara touched his chin delicately.

‘He seeks to control you at all times. You deserve a life of your own.’

With a shudder, Dazai realized that he could not rebut the accusations of the man because he was correct. He was scared of his father, terrified of him and he was afraid of what would happen if he dared to disobey his father.

The memory of a five year old him, being locked inside his room with hunger pangs tormenting him, made him petrified. He was not sure what would his father do to him, if he came to know that his only son had a disease.

The worst outcome would be him being sent to a ‘conversion camp’ and being tortured for loving someone he should not.

His pitiable and rebellious heart wished that he would agree with the man and liberate himself from the adamantine chains wrapped around him but his stubborn mind rudely intervened and reminded him that he should push away Nakahara if he sought to not disappoint his father and create more problems for himself.

His mind, which strangely sounded like his father, made him believe that perhaps Nakahara was trying to spread his disease to him and his feelings were just a delusion but his heart sang a different tune.

Sadly, his mind won this battle.

He stepped away from Nakahara and tried to maintain a flaccid expression, controlling his tears.

‘H-he is my f-father and you will give him the respect he deserves.’ Dazai said with a resolute expression.

‘He does not deserve any respect from me.’ Nakahara told in an unapologetic voice.

‘Sorry, it is my fault to have expected a sodomist to understand anything about respect and honor.’ The change in Nakahara's expression made Dazai recoil and wish to take back his words.

He realized he had made a grave mistake when he saw the way the man clenched his fists.

A storm brew in the cerulean orbs which had earlier been filled with devotion and love.

‘You are just like your father.’ Nakahara seethed ‘Sorry for barging in your chamber. I will not be bothering you anymore, Lord Dazai..’ He sharply turned away and left Dazai’s chambers banging the door behind him.

Nakahara had been a complete imbecile to ever have wasted his time chasing behind a lost cause like Dazai. A boy whose entire life revolved around God and sermons of the biased Church. Someone who did not have a single rebellious bone in his body and would not stand against his father, if the need arose.

He wished that Dazai was just one of the many random lovers he had, but upsettingly he was not. He had become something more magical to Nakahara.

He was ready to leave everything and abscond with the man if he just asked. But Dazai was not prepared to do anything for him and would just push him away.

It had been utterly foolish of him to keep on pursuing him even after being rejected so many times. Now he could understand why Rimbaud still went back to Paul, anytime his brother asked for it.

Dazai had become the light in his life of deceit and scandalous affairs. He had managed to make Nakahara desire for a different kind of life….a life which would be quite less promiscuous.

He had made his dead heart beat once again.

But the moment Nakahara confessed to him, he ripped his heart out with his harsh words. He did not even bat an eye while destroying these new emotions that were forming inside of him. Nakahara had been sure that the moment in the bird house was the one which would bring him closer to the brunet, but perhaps he had been wrong.

Because Dazai would never choose him and give up everything he had for him. He was not brave enough to make any sort of sacrifice for Nakahara.

‘He will never love me the way I love him.’

He tore open the bandage around his knuckles in his agony. He had thought that by now he had developed a thick skin to things people said about his personal life but like always the damning Dazai had to be an exception to the rule.

And even though he was angry and furious, his traitorous heart still desired to hold and comfort the brunet. He knew that if Dazai called for him, he would go running back to him.

Because his heart only belonged to the brunet. The brunet who was too cowardly to break out of the chains his father had wrapped around him.

Damn you, Rimbaud. Damn you.

…………

Once the door had been closed, Dazai dropped down on the floor and curled on himself, with silent tears cascading down his face.

The shattered emotion on Nakahara’s face made him feel terrible and he wanted to beg for forgiveness from the man.

He had hurt the man because he wanted to hurt him. But then….Why was he crying? Why was he not happy that the man promised to not bother him anymore?

Why was he being sucked into the plain gray world? Why were the colors disappearing?

Nakahara had insulted the man who had raised him. The man who had put food in his belly and roof over his head. Every luxury he possessed, everything he had, it was all because of his father.

How could he remain silent when Nakahara insulted his father?

How could he possibly disobey his own father?

But it seemed his benign heart had different thoughts. Because the sobs that began to wrack through his body refused to abate. He started to feel a bone-deep ache and he just wanted to find Nakahara once again and curl against him. He wanted to soak in his light and treasure him.

Why does everything have to be so difficult?

CHAPTER THREE

‘Lord Nakahara…I..’

‘Shirase….The air suddenly has a bitter smell of something prudish. Shall we move away from here?’

Dazai gritted his teeth as Nakahara once again walked away from him with his sycophant, hanging from his arm. Their mocking laugh echoed in the corridors of the Yorkshire manor.

The brunet noble huffed in frustration and marched straight to his chambers, the jarring noise of the door, leaving a lingering impact. However, Dazai was not bothered if anyone felt appalled at his temper tantrum. He was allowed to have them now and then.

He plopped down on the wooden chair overlooking the vast green field of Yorkshire estate. This had been the second time Dazai tried to apologize to Nakahara but the stubborn prince once again refused to listen to him and ignored his presence. As if Dazai was just a speck of dust not worthy of his attention.

‘A schmuck.’

Dazai muttered angrily. But as he stared outside in the garden and watched Nakahara enter inside in a carriage with his new lover, the anger ebbed away and soul-crushing grief consumed his being.

His eyes once again became moist but he held onto his tears. He was the son of a Duke…He will not cry for someone whose affections are altered in the blink of an eye. The man who had been pining exaggeratedly for Dazai had now completely forgotten all about him.

After questioning Dazai and his beliefs, after creating a catastrophic moral dilemma within his heart, after insulting his father…The noble had just dropped him and latched onto a new person.

Dazai wished to hold onto his anger but an ugly doubt reared its mangily head in his mind.

Am I even worthy of being loved?

Maybe he was just accursed to destroy everything that came close to him and when people realized this, they left him. His poor mother’s life was left in disarray because she cared for him. She lived alone and died alone. Her memory would be washed away in the shores of time.

Such a tragic ending for a lovely soul. Her only folly—She cared for someone like Dazai. A coward and a wretched being.

Maybe this was why his father kept him locked up in the manor of Westminster. He was a plague that would ravage everything and everyone in his path.

His father was just protecting the world from him.

Perhaps…Nakahara realized this. This is why he abandoned all his affections for him and tried to pour his unconditional love onto a more worthy soul.

(Even if it was a skank.)

Dazai could no longer the tears in his eyes. His heart was in a constant state of turmoil and the only person who could soothe it, was now the furthest from him.

Suddenly the brunet’s eye fell on the lonesome statue of the Fallen Angel. His heart was overwhelmed with empathy for the poor lost soul.

The angel had been kicked out of heaven because he dared to oppose his father, the Almighty. He had made the mistake to desire for something his Father did not approve of and as a punishment he had been tossed out of the only place he called home.

Left defenseless and all alone in the lonely shadow world. No one heard his pleas or cries. Everyone just assumed he was evil and wicked. People spun untrue and false stories about him. As if they knew him.

Maybe he would be just like the Fallen Angel…if his father ever heard the voice of his heart. He would surely abandon him to the wreckage of life. And the one person who would have given him the courage to break through the shackles of his father had turned his back on him.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

He should have been honest about his own emotions. He should have told the noble that his heart had belonged to him since the moment he saw him. Those piercing blue eyes and vibrant orange locks had enraptured him holding him as a captive.

No force was powerful enough to squash his heart’s desire for the blue-eyed noble…Alas…If Dazai knew this earlier. He would be a man rich with love and adoration.

A love that had been denied to him throughout his life. A love that could mend the broken parts of himself.

But he had shied away from these affections because of his pride.

He had insulted the man just like his father.

No wonder Nakahar no longer fancied him. He was a truly terrible person.

His door opened brusquely and Dazai quickly wiped his tears of desolation and turned around to face the staunch figure of his father.

The man radiated power and dominance and Dazai felt himself cowering from his aura.

‘Good Afternoon, Father.’ He meekly said and tried to create a semblance of a smile.

‘I know you have not yet been able to accrue the affections of a noble lady.’ His father folded his arms and fixed him with a disappointed stare.

If only you knew….I do not desire a woman.

‘I am sorry, Father. I …’ He fell quiet when his father raised his hand.

‘I do not wish to hear your flotsam-jetsam, Osamu. You are lucky you have a father like me.’ The man exuded a vainglorious aura and Dazai had to control the bitter laugh that threatened to escape him.

Of course…I am.

‘The Baron of Nottingham has agreed to give his daughter to you in a royal wedlock.’

The moment those words were uttered, Dazai felt like someone had submerged him inside ice-cold water. He staggered back and clutched onto the bed post.

‘Marriage?’ He asked weakly but his father was least bothered about the reaction of his son.

‘She is a young, good Christian woman. Perfect for you.’ His father continued as if he did not just raise a storm in his son’s heart.

‘The marriage will happen within two months.’ Each word was like the striking of a thunderbolt in an empty sky.

‘Well, it is a good thing that we have to stay in Yorkshire for merely five more days. There is a lot of arrangements to be made Osamu, once we return to Westminster.’ His father smiled and Dazai wanted to let out an agonized scream.

When he walked out of the door, Dazai’s feet trembled and he sat down on the carpeted floor like a poor beast of burden.

This was probably the first time he saw his father smile. Ironically, it was also the first time that Dazai started to truly hate the man.

He knew his father wanted to get him married but he did not know it would happen at a time when Dazai was just starting to allow his heart to experience emotions it had been denied for far too long.

His father once again decided his fate without even asking for his opinion.

Did he have no control over his own life? Was he just a mere mold of clay in the hands of his father- to be molded in a manner that suited his father but never him?

Why was his life a constant play of tragedy?

His heart clenched at the thought of marriage and he felt nauseous.

He was going to be married to a woman while his heart desired a man. A man with coarse hands, orange tufts of hair, and enchanting blue eyes.

Death seems sweeter now.

…………..

‘Oh! Such an exquisite masterpiece of a play it was.’ Shirase’s voice trilled and Nakahara grimaced but kept the forced smile on his face.

As he walked with a hand on Shirase’s waist, unknowingly his eyes went up near the window where the crimson-eyed brunet usually sat.

However, a gloom fell over Nakahara when he realized that the drapes had shut out the entire world from the bird in the golden cage.

He felt angry with himself for even trying to sympathize with the man who rejected him so crudely. Unbeknownst to him, his hand tightened around Shirase’s waist and the man hissed in pain.

‘I know you are rough Lord Nakahara. But please control yourself till we reach your private chambers.’ Shirase fluttered his irises and immediately the man removed his arm and gave him an apologetic smile.

He felt frustrated that not even Shirase, his favored consort in Yorkshire, could manage to get a reaction from him.

The man was outrageously pretty…yet Nakahara blanched at the thought of using that adjective to describe anyone who did not have the softest brown curls and amber eyes that sparkled with curiosity and awe.

What is happening to me?

Earlier, he never wasted his waking hours thinking about any person, but now the blasted brunet had even managed to reside in his dreams.

He needed to forget all about him and pour his admirations elsewhere but the thought of touching anyone that was not the son of the Duke of Westminster set his heart in a frenzy.

The whole day spent with Shirase turned out to be drab and the man failed to arouse the same sort of adoration and intensity which Dazai could do with only a flicker of a touch.

The two days, he spent avoiding the brunet had been torturous for him but his pride prevented him from talking to the man who never left his thoughts. Even now he could remember the pain in those eyes when he rebuffed and ignored the brunet. It made him feel weirdly...guilty.

But...Lord Nakahara does not bow in front of anyone. Why should Dazai be an exception, right?

‘Lord Nakahara…Lord Nakahara.’ Shirase’s repeated chanting made Nakahara once again conscious of his surroundings.

‘What?’ He snapped as he and Shirase stepped inside the manor and began marching towards his chamber.

‘Why are you angry with me? Is it because of that prude?’ Shirase sneered and Nakahara felt his temper rise. He did not know why, but he wanted to sock the man for being disrespectful towards Dazai.

‘Ah! Darling Chuuya. Just the man I have been searching for.’ Rimbaud twirled into his view and without even sparing a glance at Shirase, he grabbed Nakahara’s arm and pulled him away with a rough tug.

‘I have the most exciting news for you.’ Rimbaud said with faux enthusiasm as he began to drag Nakahara away from Shirase, who was now muttering profanities under his breath.

Sometimes the man definitely forgot his place.

‘What is it, Rimbaud?’ Nakahara asked once they had reached near a relatively empty space, Shirase long forgotten from his mind.

He pulled his hand away from the man and furrowed his eyebrows at him.

‘The son of the Duke of Westminster….Our dear Church boy….is set to become a married man within two months.’

Nakahara’s face drained off all its color and his eyes widened. An awry and uncomfortable feeling started to grow inside his stomach. For some reason, it seemed that all the light of the world had been sucked out.

‘What?’ He gulped.

‘Yes….The Duke has been parading around the news. Perfect holy matrimony to bind the kindred spirits of the Duke’s son and the Baron of Nottingham’s daughter. It definitely calls for a celebration, don’t you agree, Chuuya?’ Rimbaud cheered.

Nakahara remained ramrod straight and dread overcame his features.

‘Why do you look like you have seen a ghost? Are you not happy? The man you despised and ignored will no longer bother you. Cheers…Chuuya.’ Rimbaud mocked.

Nakahara’s eyes flared in anger and for a moment he saw red. He grabbed the lapels of Rimbaud’s coat and pushed him back, making him hit the wall behind him and the man groaned in pain.

‘Stop talking.’ Nakahara gritted out. Boiling rage was pouring out of his every crevice and he felt like burning down anyone in his path.

‘Your temper is just like your brother….But your heart is broken just like mine.’ Rimbaud said in a soft voice.

That made the anger vanish from Nakahara and a bone-deep ache filled his veins.

‘I am sorry, Rimbaud.’ He gasped out as he moved away.

‘I don’t mind. Afterall ,your brother is much more rough.’ Rimbaud winked and dusted his clothes.

Nakahara grimaced at the image which formed in his mind.

‘Do you know that every day I wake up hoping that the raring emptiness in my heart will disappear? But it never does…..’ Rimbaud's voice sounded hoarse and pained.

‘I still remember Paul standing at the altar and placing a ring in Agatha’s finger. Everyone cheered while I wallowed in misery.’ Rimbaud leaned his head on the wall ‘He danced with her while I stood in the shadows watching him laugh with someone who was not me.’

‘Arthur…’ Nakahara began but Rimbaud continued ‘He is neither my first nor my last but he is the one that matters.’

He wiped the tears on his face and gave a bitter smile ‘Which is why every time I meet him, I allow him to use me hoping that this time he would choose me. But he never does.’

‘I wish I could have fought harder for him….But I did not. I let him slip from my fingers.’ Rimbaud looked at Nakahara with a solemn and determined gaze ‘Fight for him, Chuuya. Fight tooth and nail for the one you love. And even after that if Fate snatches him away from you, at least you can find comfort in the thought that you tried.’

Nakahara inhaled deeply as those words resonated with him. His feet started to move away from Rimbaud, at a steady pace.

‘Fight for him, Chuuya. Do not become a miserable sod like me. Fight for him.’ Rimbaud's voice echoed and Nakahara ran.

He ran to the only person who had broken the barriers around his heart. The only one whose touch brought him comfort and whose words plunged deep within his soul. The one who could make or break him.

His Church boy.

His flower.

His Dazai.

………..

‘Osamu….You look like a wretched cur.’ Oda said in a straight voice as he tried to feed him the warm broth.

Dazai whined and moved his head away ‘Odasaku is insulting me.’

‘I merely speak the truth.’ The man attempted to once again feed him the broth but he moved further inside the bed, almost disappearing under the heavy blankets.

‘You have fever…Osamu. You must eat warm food.’ Oda insisted.

However, Dazai just whined and buried himself in the cocoon of blankets. After the disastrous announcement by his father, Dazai felt it laborious to even move a single limb. Trapezing around the manor and having to maintain a false jovial state of a man delighted at the thought of marriage seemed like a chore to him.

After all, his enthusiasm would appear bleak in front of his father.

And now all this misery had rendered him sick. Call him dramatic…but he felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on his fragile body and he refused to release the comfort of his bed.

I do not want to marry. Why doesn’t anyone hear me?

‘I for one, think this marriage is a good opportunity. Maybe a woman's touch can once again fill the gloomy manor with love and laughter.’ Oda tried to placate the beaten-down man….child….to be precise.

His heart went out to this crying child who had been left alone in the world under the thumb of his tyrannical father. It was quite surprising that he remained kind-hearted even after the rigorous teachings and indoctrination by his father.

Maybe it is his mother’s touch.

However, the quiet atmosphere of the chamber was disturbed when someone banged on the door in continuous succession.

‘Odasakuuuuuu…..Who is this brute?’ Dazai wailed dramatically.

‘I will send the person away. Don’t worry, Osamu.’ Oda smiled and kept the untouched broth on the bedside table and moved towards the door.

When he opened it, his lips curled in distaste as he came face to face, with a disheveled looking Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine.

The scourge of society. The Libertine who dared to entrap his naïve Lord into his honeyed words.

‘Lord Dazai is unwell and would like to be left alone.’ Oda quickly responded and attempted to close the door on the man’s face. But, Nakahara held onto the door and prevented Oda from closing it.

‘I must speak with him at the moment. It’s quite urgent.’ He requested, his eyes trying to move past Oda’s stoic figure.

‘I insist that you leave. He is not taking any visitors now.’ Oda monotoned attempting once again to close the door.

‘LORD DAZAI!! PLEASE TALK TO ME ONCE!!’ Nakahara’s voice thundered in the chamber and the brunet noble stirred upon hearing the voice that he had been begging to talk to for the past two days.

‘Odasaku...Who is it?’ He asked in a perplexed manner as he slowly got out of the blankets and rested his upper body on the headboard.

‘It is Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine, your Lordship. Must I ask him to leave?’ Oda said in a serene voice but Nakahara just wanted to kick the man in his nuts and rush to his Church boy.

‘Allow him to enter, Odasaku.’ Dazai ordered placidly, even if a rush of adrenaline, fear, and excitement grew inside of him.

Has he finally come back to me?

‘But you are not well, my Lord.’ Oda looked at him with concern.

‘It is alright.’

‘But…’

‘I said...It is alright, Oda.’ Dazai’s tone left no room for argument. Oda acquiesced and allowed Nakahara to enter. However, he made no effort to cover his dislike for the man.

‘You may leave, Odasaku. Good night.’ Dazai said in a soft voice, guilty about having to reprimand his closest friend. Oda smiled at Dazai conveying his forgiveness and after giving a hard look at Nakahara, he walked away, closing the door behind him.

Dazai took in the haggard presence of Nakahara in his red coat and roguish black pants. His hair was a wild untamed mess that might have once been tied into a neat ponytail. Despite looking not even slightly close to the part of a respectable gentleman, he remained as warm as the sun on a freezing winter morning.

He glowed brightly, while the rest of the world remained frozen.

‘I must apologize…I am not in the best of my attire.’ Dazai politely said while becoming conscious of his white night apparel.

‘Your beauty still sparkles like the Pole star…bringing wayward sailors to the correct path.’ Nakahara spoke in a besotted manner as he took careful steps towards the ill man.

Dazai blushed under the praise and shyly looked down at his twitching fingers on the blanket.

‘What if the lost soul has already found another star? What purpose does the Pole Star serve then?’ Dazai asked in a soft voice and Nakahara was once again consumed with guilt, regarding his outlandish treatment of the crimson-eyed beauty.

‘Then the sailor is an utter fool…Not worthy of the Pole Star’s affection.’ Nakahara gradually came closer to the bed of the brunet.

‘But he is! I insist he is!’ Dazai implored. The orange-haired Duke gave a soft smile as he sat upon the bed.

‘But the Pole Star has found another sailor.’

‘No…The star was forced to shine in the path of another…He did not want to. He only desires…’ With a brave huff, Dazai placed his hand on Nakahara’s palm. ‘His sailor.’ The brunet whispered.

A surprised expression flitted through the azure eyes before Nakahara interlaced his fingers with the pale hand.

‘And the sailor desires his Pole Star.’ Nakahara gently caressed the brunet’s wrist. His touch was as gentle as a feather and Dazai blushed at the thought of being treated as delicately as glass.

For how long had he been denying this raging emotion? For how long had he refused to listen to the cries of his heart?

‘I must apologize...For what I had said to you on that night.’ Guilt swarmed in those crimson eyes which had turned Chuuya from an atheist to a devotee. He must have done something good in his past life for God to allow the descension of this pure angel in his humble abode.

‘No…I let my temper get the best of me. Like an ignoble bastard…’He placed the soft wrist of the brunet closer to his own face and reveled in the featherlike touch gracing his rough skin.

‘I denied myself of the thing that is most important to me.’ Azure eyes shone with the same adoration and devotion…a reminiscence of the earlier night…where they both let their pride dictate their being.

‘My heart refuses to hold it in much longer, Lord Nakahara.’ Dazai whispered and it was then that he realized that there was barely an inch of space separating him from his ambrosia.

‘I am in love with you.’ The brunet confessed with a shy smile as he kissed Nakahara’s palm. ‘I will be yours…If you will have me.’

‘But….isn't this a sin?’ Nakahara smirked with a fond look in his eyes.

‘If loving you is a sin, then I will happily become an unrepentant sinner at God’s feet.’

As the truth tumbled out of his mouth, a burden was lifted from his chest. He no longer felt like a puppet being pulled in different directions by his father. With this honest declaration, he had become his own person. Now, no longer would he feel like an insufficient or accursed human for loving the one his heart desired.

He was finally…free. And it was the best feeling he had ever experienced.

Nakahara was filled with euphemism upon hearing the love confession from the one he desired. He placed his forehead on top of Dazai’s whilst their hands remained connected.

‘I will help you fight against your father.’ He promised.

Dazai smiled and shook his head ‘I can fight my own battles….Just stand by my side.’

……………….

Two years later

Vibrant attires dazzled as people forayed onto the streets, busy in their merry-making. Thousands of balloons and streamers were floating up in coloring the lonely sky into a palette of thousand colors. Many of the people walking in the parade were holding onto countless banners that showcased their mastery in the art of drawing and painting.

At the front of the procession were three musical bands, who played the tunes to which the people danced euphorically like the children who followed the eccentric pied piper.

‘Chuuya….This is wonderful.’ Osamu said in a mesmerized manner as he looked at the parade which walked down the streets of Dunkirk, France.

‘Carnaval de Dunkirque.’ Chuuya smiled and held his hand ‘It accepts all.’

And Osamu realized it was true. In this small parade, people dressed like whoever they wanted to. Men wore the attire of women while the women dressed up as bulky men. The poor and the rich mingled together. Everyone was allowed to wear perfume and be dolled up. There existed no restrictions. No societal boundaries. Only love and laughter.

It was like Heaven on Earth.

Osamu’s lips upturned into a grateful smile as he interlinked his fingers with Chuuya ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

‘Pleasure is all mine, mon amour.’ Chuuya winked as he placed a fleeting kiss on Osamu’s lips making the boy shiver and blush.

Even after being kissed countless times, Osamu still felt a tingling in his nerves every time those rough chapped lips met his.

Chuuya could not hold back his admiration for the brunet who had bloomed from a shy bud into the most exquisite flower. His attire was the first sign to showcase his acceptance of himself. The brunet had worn a white layered gown paired with woman’s shoes. Few traces of a powder was visible on his face and a dark red lip color made the brunet’s lips look like the most delectable treat.

He seemed nothing like the reticent, prudent, and snobbish boy he had been under his father’s thumb.

As Chuuya began dragging him to join the parade, Osamu’s mind was floating in exhilaration. A chuckle escaped his lips as he still remembered his grand escapade from his tyrannical father.

…………..

After he had confessed to his father in Yorkshire about his innermost desires, the man had flipped. But before he could slap his son and ship him off to some conversion camp, Chuuya had boldly intervened.

With a flurry, the ginger-haired man had entered Dazai’s father’s chamber and kissed his son fervently, right in front of the angry man.

His father was frozen for few moments after seeing this outrageous show of affection, and Nakahara used that moment to drag away Dazai not without giving a cheeky smile to his father. They went straight to the carriage that had already been prepared for them.

Dazai was still feeling dizzy after the sudden kiss and went pliant in the man’s arms as he was maneuvered inside the carriage. However, before the carriage doors could close Oda jumped in, carrying two small suitcases.

Nakahara frowned and ordered the carriage driver to halt.

‘What-what are you doing here?’

‘I am not leaving Lord Dazai alone with a heathen like you. Besides he needs proper care. He is far too delicate than most.’ Oda reclined comfortably in the bed of the carriage.

‘Now if you do not want to face that dictator…’ As if on cue, Dazai’s father stormed out of the manors’ door screaming,

‘STOP….BRING MY SON BACK NAKAHARA..OSAMU…COME BACK RIGHT NOW.’

‘I suggest you ask the horseman to move the carriage. Godspeed.’

Nakahara shook his head and commanded Karma to start moving the carriage. It was then that Dazai’s spell broke and like a scared cat, he curled to Nakahara’s side, while fearfully looking in the direction of his tormentor.

‘Are we really doing this Lord Nakahara? Are we actually running away from my father?’

‘Yes…We are free men now.’ Nakahara smiled as he swooped in for another kiss. Oda’s cough made him change his trajectory and he just pecked Dazai on his cheek and glared at the man who had a matching glare on his face, whilst Dazai remained blissfully unaware of the tension between his best friend and lover.

Watching the moving carriage from his window Rimbaud chortled ‘Ahh!~ You have always been a fan of dramatics, have you not Chuuya?’

…………

As Osamu got lost in the joy of the parade and danced around with Chuuya, pure bliss shone on his face and it made him look even more beautiful than before. An entrapping aura of positivity radiated from him and Chuuya laughed wholeheartedly, as he guided the brunet in the parade.

‘Chuuya…’ Osamu suddenly stopped his movements making even the orange-haired noble stop his humorous dance.

They stepped to the side, to allow people behind them to pass without much hindrance.

‘What is it Osamu?’ He asked in a soft voice as he placed his hand behind the brunet’s neck.

‘If this is a dream….Please do not wake me up from it.’ The crimson eyes were beaming with innocence and Chuuya could not help but pull Osamu closer, making them stand chest-to-chest.

‘This is the reality…precious. No force in the world can snatch away our happiness from us.’ He assured.

And in that small bricked alley in Dunkirk where thousands of people celebrated themselves, Osamu realized that there was one good thing his dictator of a Father did for him.

He paved the path for him to meet Chuuya.

His power.

His sun.

His love.

His forbidden fruit.

By Avantika Roy