There are times when all Toudou wants to do in the world is lie down on the couch, sun splayed over his skin, Makishima's head heavy in his lap and hair a incorrigible disarray over them both, green and red all together, all at once.
Makishima's hair is wavy, a visceral event made on spontaneous decision, something Toudou could never imagine him being without. Sometimes Toudou stares in the mirror, tugs on his own hair and frowns in discontent, because it's just so boring and plain, nothing compared to the gossamer swath of impregnable disillusionment of red green tresses.
"Maki-chan, what shampoo do you use?"
Countless memories are filled with green and red; something he had always been staring at from behind. There were moments, more countless times where he could do nothing but gasp and pedal and pedal and pedal harder but never catch up to the swaying color dancing in front of his eyes, path veering off the path of trajectory.
Sometimes after races, both exhausted and tired, they go bike to a café and sit there in superseding silence to Toudou's usual blather, both content to drink cold coffee and look out the glass window beside their table, sunlight spilling over them both, illuminating Makishima's hair and throwing his eyes and lips into sharp, deep angles that leave Toudou breathless.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Makishima sometimes asks, always putting a head sheepishly into his hair, glancing sideways, up, down, anywhere except for Toudou's steady gaze.
"Because you're beautiful." Toudou simply replies.
He wonders if Makishima thinks of him like that too.
Makishima seems anything but substantial, angles of his features so graceful and delicate Toudou is almost terrified of breaking them.
He touches Makishima carefully too, gentle brushes over his hips and stomach as they lay tangled together on Makishima's bed, room throwing back their soft sighs and gasps as they wander, a perverse mixture gesticulation and impetuous actions.
"I love you, I love you, Maki-chan, I love you." Toudou would say, over and over, arching his back into the bed sheets as Makishima would respond with sharp inhales of breath, pressing butterfly kisses over Toudou's jawline and neck that spoke ten times louder than Toudou's fervent promises.
He loves Makishima's hair.
He loves twining his hands and fingers and entangling himself in the long layers and smelling the cool, clean scent of expensive shampoo and just burying himself in it, twisting it around his knuckles and kissing it as they both lay sideways, gasping in post-adrenaline and lethargic motions.
He wants to stay like this forever.
"Jinpachi, Jinpachi, Jinpachi," Makishima would murmur, twisting their legs together and breathing soft sighs on Toudou's lips, cupping his chin in his thin, thin, fingers and meeting his eyes behind soft, fluttering eyelashes.
They once rode over a bridge covered in cherry blossoms, soft petals swirling around them, dancing in the wind picked up by the smooth wisk of their wheels, the flowers landing on Makishima's hair and tangling in the tresses of green red.
It remained one of the most beautiful things Toudou had ever seen.
("Do you think I'm pretty, Maki-chan?"
Makishima scoffed. "Don't you know the answer already?" )
"Racing with you, Maki-chan...it's fun." Thank you for all these years.
I am so in love with these two I cannot even express
This was basically a spontaneous drabble based on this gorgeous fanart of Makishima's hair-(the artist has strictly prohibited reproduction so I'm not using it for the thumbnail of this drabble QWQ)
I hope you liked this? (I really like imagery can you tell)
Until next time!