Atlas [#15] [5927] [Reborn!]
Title :: Atlas
Theme :: #15, "worth dying for" [30_wounds]
Pairing :: 5927
Rating :: PG-13
Warnings :: Spoilers for TYL arc; wangstwangstwangst oi.
Wordcount :: 255
Summary :: The world turns inside out, and you want to say that it is no longer comprehensible.
Notes :: …I basically gutted myself writing this ORZ ORZ ORZZZZ.
The world turns inside out - everything turns inside out, and you can’t bear to think about what is still spilling hotly all over your clutching hands - and you want to say that it is no longer comprehensible. That your world is gone, and nothing else makes a goddamn bit of sense anymore; that you cannot see anything for the red and white haze creeping over your eyes.
You want to say that you have gone mad, and then never have to speak again.
But the clarity hits faster and sharper than even the proverbial knife to the gut when you found him this way; when you first gathered him carefully up into your arms and realised that the faint, pained smile he managed for you was going to be the last, was going to be goodbye.
He was not perfect. He was not anything approaching infallible. He was not the god you had imagined for all these long years.
And still you would give anything to go back, to trade in your life for his, to tell him that you finally knew.
To admit that you are still hopelessly in love, only now with Sawada Tsunayoshi and not just the Vongola Tenth. (Because you suddenly understand that there had been a difference and how much you must have hurt him by insisting otherwise, even if he never once breathed a word.)
Being too late had always been your greatest fear, and only now that it has finally happened do you realise that you always were.
Theme :: #15, "worth dying for" [30_wounds]
Pairing :: 5927
Rating :: PG-13
Warnings :: Spoilers for TYL arc; wangstwangstwangst oi.
Wordcount :: 255
Summary :: The world turns inside out, and you want to say that it is no longer comprehensible.
Notes :: …I basically gutted myself writing this ORZ ORZ ORZZZZ.
The world turns inside out - everything turns inside out, and you can’t bear to think about what is still spilling hotly all over your clutching hands - and you want to say that it is no longer comprehensible. That your world is gone, and nothing else makes a goddamn bit of sense anymore; that you cannot see anything for the red and white haze creeping over your eyes.
You want to say that you have gone mad, and then never have to speak again.
But the clarity hits faster and sharper than even the proverbial knife to the gut when you found him this way; when you first gathered him carefully up into your arms and realised that the faint, pained smile he managed for you was going to be the last, was going to be goodbye.
He was not perfect. He was not anything approaching infallible. He was not the god you had imagined for all these long years.
And still you would give anything to go back, to trade in your life for his, to tell him that you finally knew.
To admit that you are still hopelessly in love, only now with Sawada Tsunayoshi and not just the Vongola Tenth. (Because you suddenly understand that there had been a difference and how much you must have hurt him by insisting otherwise, even if he never once breathed a word.)
Being too late had always been your greatest fear, and only now that it has finally happened do you realise that you always were.