KHR oneshot, Squalo x Tsuna
Hello. I'm new here and thought that before I start spamming with numerous oneshots, I will advance carefully. Hope you like this because I have lots of Tsuna-oneshots that I will probably torture you all with.
Title: Lucid Moments
Author: Pain au Chocolat
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fiction. Everything belongs to Akira Amano. The song ‘Lonely Day’ belongs to System of a Down
Rating & Warnings: T for cursing, angst, AU (sort of), OOCness, general crappiness. Caution: might burn your eyes off. Yours Truly isn't responsible for any sudden deaths, traumas or extreme allergic reactions caused during or after reading this oneshot.
Summary: He didn’t have many of those Lucid Moments, but when the dead came back, only ten years younger, he knows that there’s something he could do to save his rapidly vanishing sanity.
Pairing: Squalo x Tsuna
_____________________________________________________________________
LUCID MOMENTS
_____________________________________________________________________
When the news came, Squalo hadn’t cried.
“The Tenth’s dead.”
The words were blunt, said by a mechanical voice and not many expected the Varia to mourn. Well, they hadn’t. Unless Lussuria’s exaggerated cries are counted, but they aren’t, so forget about it. So Levi’s smiles were awkward grimaces, Belphegor didn’t grin unless he was killing something, Boss didn’t smile at all and Marmon stayed in a serious state of denial for ages, but really, people saw what they wanted to see, and since everyone thought that the Varia didn’t care, so no one realized.
Squalo hadn’t cried.
Not like Smoking Bomb or Bucking Horse. Not like that Sun Guardian or the Thunder brat. Not like those many people who couldn’t walk straight for days with the tears blurring their vision. No, Squalo hadn’t cried like that. Squalo had raged, screamed, destroyed his room and killed bystanders, but he had no tears to offer. Because tears wouldn’t be enough - would never be enough. The Tenth - the sweet Sawada Tsunayoshi - was dead and nothing could bring him back.
Fucking Millefiore.
Squalo knew he was somehow getting worse - even Belphegor had mentioned it and while the Boss didn’t talk, the Sword Emperor could clearly sense the occasional, long and calculative looks shot at him.
So fine, he fucking killed in these past years more than ever before, but hey, who could blame him? Assassin’s job and all that shit. And what of it if his jobs happened to be a tad bit more bloody and gruesome than they used to be? Tsuna wasn’t there anymore so no one needed to be shielded from anything any longer… Squalo didn’t need to tone down his thirst for blood because whatever reaction the reader of his reports would have, it didn’t matter.
Because it wasn’t that man. Because it wasn’t their Sky.
“Hey, Squalo,” Belphegor once said, holding up the swordsman’s report. “You’re like a mad axe-murderer or something. Get some control or there will be consequences.”
“Get the fuck out of my room,” Squalo had grunted, not caring because the prince wasn’t the one to talk about madness - killing your family wasn’t exactly a show of sanity, now was it? And besides, he was nowhere near as mad as Vongola’s Mist Guardian, who seemed to be from a different planet altogether. And he really wasn’t as homicidal as the Cloud Guardian who had gone berserk on a Millefiore troop consisting of around twenty assassins, killing them all. No, Squalo wasn’t as mad as he wanted to be, and he hadn’t done as much damage as he would have liked. He was stuck in Italy, trying to help Xanxus with keeping the Vongola stable there.
Whoever had said that working your ass off could help you forget about your sorrows was a goddamned liar, and had probably never really lost anyone they considered truly important. No matter how much he worked, how much he focused on the task at hand, there wasn’t a second that passed without Squalo remembering, reminiscing, cursing and regretting.
So Squalo mourned. So he spent hours just staring at the sky. So he never visited the Tenth’s grave. So he kept a picture of Tsuna under his pillow like a fucking girl and couldn’t help it. So he hated it when other people smiled because how could they smile? Squalo couldn’t. He had tried, if only for the sake of hiding at least part of the impact the news had had on him, but no avail.
Due time, he didn’t even bother to try anymore. Let them see it. Let them see that gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Because it wasn’t there anymore - it was with the Sky, in a grave of white flowers. In that horrible, elegant coffin that shouldn’t have had a use till much, much later.
And then, one day, an urgent message came from Japan
oOoOo
When the news came, Squalo had cried.
Granted, he had first made sure that the bastards weren’t lying and then went to his room and locked it, bit the pillow, screamed and couldn’t stop the few goddamned tears, but Tsuna was back. Sure, it was the runt from ten years ago, but it was still him, Squalo knew it. That kindness, that heart of gold and precious sense of justice… The mere knowledge of the fact that this person was breathing somewhere in the world, safe and sound, made him giddy.
Sending a video-message was all he had been allowed to do, but for now that was alright. Because in a rare moment of lucidity Squalo had realized what he could do - there was a way.
Convincing Marmon to help hadn’t been difficult. In the beginning - ten years ago, during the Ring Battles - the Arcobaleno had detested Tsunayoshi. But somehow in the course of these past years when the Tenth was still alive, feelings had turned into reluctant respect, then into loyalty and admiration that rivalled even what they had for Xanxus. Out of the Varia, Squalo suspected, Marmon had the most difficult time accepting that their runt of a leader had died.
So, well, when presented with a chance to get him back for good, the greedy little thing didn’t even think about refusing.
“Do the others know of this?” the illusionist had asked. “Hiding this from Boss will be dangerous.”
“What do you think?” Squalo had scoffed. “This is our project. They wouldn’t understand. What’s there to lose?”
“Your life,” was the calm response, but the swordsman had sneered.
“What’s there to lose?” he had repeated the question, and Marmon finally understood the implications. But while he really wanted the tenth back too, he didn’t know what the silver-haired maniac was feeling. What were his motives? Why would he sacrifice anything to get the other man back? Why had Tenth’s death affected him so deeply?
“Why do you care so much?” Marmon’s question had been met with silence.
“Are you in or not?”
“Of course I’m in, but I want to know your motives. Why go so far for him?”
“If we succeed, I’ll tell you.” Marmon had reluctantly agreed to that. It was obvious that Squalo wouldn’t talk about his reasons yet, and the illusionist could wait.
Their plan was - in theory - laughably simple. To somehow get a message to the past about what was going on, for the sake of preventing the Tenth’s death. The most secure way of sending something to the past, would be using someone who came here via the Bovino Bazooka, so when they returned to their actual time, the object would go with them. Naturally, Squalo was certain that when the Tenth returned to his time, things would surely change… but he wanted to be a part of it. He didn’t trust those guardians with their Sky anymore - they had failed once already.
“Sending a letter or something to my younger self would be useless,” Squalo had told the illusionist, who nodded grimly.
“I know. We cannot guarantee that a letter will reach you there. We need something that only you will understand. However… why can’t it be sent to me?” Marmon asked, and Squalo stopped fiddling with the papers for a bit.
“Back then… ten years ago… it was a few weeks after then Ring Battles… What would your reaction have been had you gotten a message that states that you must do your damnest to save the Tenth?”
“…”
“Back then you weren’t exactly fond of him, now were you?”
“Does that mean that you were?”
“Drop it,” Squalo snapped. “Let’s focus on this now. I told you, if we succeed, I’ll tell you everything.” So Marmon bit his lip and held the numerous questions inside, and tried to focus once again on the message they’d be creating for Squalo’s younger self to get.
“Do you have any ideas?” the Arcobaleno asked.
“You have that illusion-sealing technique, don’t you?” the silver-haired swordsman said. “We can take one of my knives - that way they won’t hesitate about sending it to me then - and you can seal an illusion into it.”
“A truthful illusion?”
“Something like that. My younger self will know what to do with it.”
“Very well, that shall be done.”
oOoOo
It had been three months ever since they put their plan into action. Three months since the Tenth had arrived from the past, and one day since he had returned there. If their plan had worked, soon their memories would change. Marmon had told Squalo to record what had happened somewhere, just in case.
“Remember to make sure that after our memories change, you must still send the knife to your younger self, to avoid a paradox,” the illusionist had said.
“I know,” Squalo had snapped in response. But there wasn’t a clear view on which memories had changed, and which had not. Vaguely he remembered getting a knife with an illusion in it for him. A bit clearer was the memory of assassinating a white-haired brat and another one with glasses - Marmon said they were called Byakuran and Shoichi, but Squalo couldn’t remember anymore why they had been so important.
He did remember, however, spending a month in the hospital, recovering from a nasty attack he had blocked for the Tenth. ´He did remember how often the teary-eyed brunet had visited him. He remembered… so much.
“Squalo,” Marmon’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and the silver-haired swordsman turned to glare at the illusionist.
“VOOOI!! What the fuck do you want now?” he exclaimed in his usual frosty manner, before he remembered his promise, the words he had written in a piece of paper in his pocket. “If we succeed, I’ll tell you everything “, was what he had said. “You want the explanation now?”
“No,” the greedy Arcobaleno said, surprising Squalo. “Your reason for doing so much for him… you reason for going so far. Your reason for what you did… I understand.”
“What the fuck do you think you understand?” the Sword Emperor growled. “Even I don’t get it, so how could you!?”
“Squa-“
“You think it doesn’t confuse me!? You think I don’t spend hour trying to get rid of my thoughts about it - about him!? I’m trying to make sense of what I’m feeling, but fuck, I don’t get it!”
“You’re calmer than you used to be… in the snippets of the memories I have about the alternate future,” Marmon said coolly. “The impact that his presence has on you isn’t normal, Squalo.”
“Get the fuck away from me and stop talking nonsense,” the swordsman growled, and turned away.
“He’s here, you know.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s a lie.”
“…”
“Why don’t you go to him?”
“None of your fucking business, Marmon. Now get lost. Or better yet, hand me one of the mission in the waiting-line and I will leave,” Squalo didn’t feel like doing a mission right now, but he didn’t feel like staying in this building either.
“You’re weird,” Marmon said. “You did so much for him, but when he’s finally here, you avoid the confrontation.”
“There’s no need for the confrontation.” The words ‘because nothing would come out of it’ were left unsaid.
“And why is that so, Squalo-san,” a soft, dearly-missed voice said from the doorway. Squalo stared, gaped, gasped and Didn’t Get It. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at the meeting? Did he have to look that good, dressed in that suit? Why was he looking at Squalo like that? And where was Marmon going?
“Er…” Yes, well, no one could blame Squalo for being excessively articulate right now, but…
“Marmon told me everything,” the Tenth Vongola boss said calmly, although there might have been a slight tremor in his voice. “Thank you. I… I…”
“If all you came to say is ‘thank you’, then whatever,” Squalo growled. “You’re welcome. Now go. I have work.”
“You did so much for me.”
“A subordinate’s duty.”
“Marmon…,” Tsuna said, not looking at Squalo. “Marmon said that you love me.” The silence that followed the statement made the silver haired swordsman fear that the Tenth would hear his loud heartbeats. What had the fucking delusional illusionist said? Was that what he had ‘understood’? How dare he go ahead and say shit like that!?
Yet, Squalo didn’t find the will to deny that statement.
Because deep down, for years now, he had known it to be true. He had known, known, known. Just as he had known that nothing would change even if he had acted out on his feelings - there was no future for a relationship that would produce no heirs to the family. Admitting his love for the Tenth would be too painful. Too difficult. It’d complicate things.
“Marmon,” he said hoarsely. “Marmon should keep his mouth shut about things he doesn’t understand.”
“How about we stop talking about Marmon and focus on the two of us?” the Tenth, with shining, kind and hopeful eyes, asked. “Because I can’t leave this matter alone, Squalo-san.”
“…”
“Because I love you, Squalo-san.” Part of the swords man wanted to curse - loudly - and accuse the Tenth for lying, but he knew that Tsuna wasn’t the sort of person who said things like that without meaning them. With shaky steps Squalo reached the shorter man, silver eyes looking into the wide, caramel brown ones. He wanted to deny. Wanted to say that he didn’t love the other man, just because that would have been the right thing to do and admitting his love easily wasn’t what Squalo was comfortable with. But was there any point in saying otherwise?
“I…” the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come out, and the disappointment he felt was making him frustrated also. That look in the Tenth’s eyes - anticipation in that pale, beautiful face. He wanted so see it bloom into a joyful smile.
“Yes?”
“I… er… I… “ Why couldn’t he say it!?
“It’s okay,” Tsuna whispered with a smile that Squalo didn’t understand. And before he had noticed, the Tenth had leaned forward and stolen a chaste kiss. With great interest, Tsuna observed how many shades of red the feared Sword Emperor could turn to. “There’s no need to say it now.”
“I guess I owe Marmon, after all,” Squalo said gruffly, but couldn’t help but crack a smile when Tsuna laughed - how could he not, when the lovely sound filled the whole room and his heart?
“Yes,” Tsuna said. “We owe him.”
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day in my life
Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It's a day that I can't stand
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go,
I wanna go with you
And if you die,
I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
It's a day that I'm glad I survived
Title: Lucid Moments
Author: Pain au Chocolat
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fiction. Everything belongs to Akira Amano. The song ‘Lonely Day’ belongs to System of a Down
Rating & Warnings: T for cursing, angst, AU (sort of), OOCness, general crappiness. Caution: might burn your eyes off. Yours Truly isn't responsible for any sudden deaths, traumas or extreme allergic reactions caused during or after reading this oneshot.
Summary: He didn’t have many of those Lucid Moments, but when the dead came back, only ten years younger, he knows that there’s something he could do to save his rapidly vanishing sanity.
Pairing: Squalo x Tsuna
_____________________________________________________________________
LUCID MOMENTS
_____________________________________________________________________
When the news came, Squalo hadn’t cried.
“The Tenth’s dead.”
The words were blunt, said by a mechanical voice and not many expected the Varia to mourn. Well, they hadn’t. Unless Lussuria’s exaggerated cries are counted, but they aren’t, so forget about it. So Levi’s smiles were awkward grimaces, Belphegor didn’t grin unless he was killing something, Boss didn’t smile at all and Marmon stayed in a serious state of denial for ages, but really, people saw what they wanted to see, and since everyone thought that the Varia didn’t care, so no one realized.
Squalo hadn’t cried.
Not like Smoking Bomb or Bucking Horse. Not like that Sun Guardian or the Thunder brat. Not like those many people who couldn’t walk straight for days with the tears blurring their vision. No, Squalo hadn’t cried like that. Squalo had raged, screamed, destroyed his room and killed bystanders, but he had no tears to offer. Because tears wouldn’t be enough - would never be enough. The Tenth - the sweet Sawada Tsunayoshi - was dead and nothing could bring him back.
Fucking Millefiore.
Squalo knew he was somehow getting worse - even Belphegor had mentioned it and while the Boss didn’t talk, the Sword Emperor could clearly sense the occasional, long and calculative looks shot at him.
So fine, he fucking killed in these past years more than ever before, but hey, who could blame him? Assassin’s job and all that shit. And what of it if his jobs happened to be a tad bit more bloody and gruesome than they used to be? Tsuna wasn’t there anymore so no one needed to be shielded from anything any longer… Squalo didn’t need to tone down his thirst for blood because whatever reaction the reader of his reports would have, it didn’t matter.
Because it wasn’t that man. Because it wasn’t their Sky.
“Hey, Squalo,” Belphegor once said, holding up the swordsman’s report. “You’re like a mad axe-murderer or something. Get some control or there will be consequences.”
“Get the fuck out of my room,” Squalo had grunted, not caring because the prince wasn’t the one to talk about madness - killing your family wasn’t exactly a show of sanity, now was it? And besides, he was nowhere near as mad as Vongola’s Mist Guardian, who seemed to be from a different planet altogether. And he really wasn’t as homicidal as the Cloud Guardian who had gone berserk on a Millefiore troop consisting of around twenty assassins, killing them all. No, Squalo wasn’t as mad as he wanted to be, and he hadn’t done as much damage as he would have liked. He was stuck in Italy, trying to help Xanxus with keeping the Vongola stable there.
Whoever had said that working your ass off could help you forget about your sorrows was a goddamned liar, and had probably never really lost anyone they considered truly important. No matter how much he worked, how much he focused on the task at hand, there wasn’t a second that passed without Squalo remembering, reminiscing, cursing and regretting.
So Squalo mourned. So he spent hours just staring at the sky. So he never visited the Tenth’s grave. So he kept a picture of Tsuna under his pillow like a fucking girl and couldn’t help it. So he hated it when other people smiled because how could they smile? Squalo couldn’t. He had tried, if only for the sake of hiding at least part of the impact the news had had on him, but no avail.
Due time, he didn’t even bother to try anymore. Let them see it. Let them see that gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Because it wasn’t there anymore - it was with the Sky, in a grave of white flowers. In that horrible, elegant coffin that shouldn’t have had a use till much, much later.
And then, one day, an urgent message came from Japan
oOoOo
When the news came, Squalo had cried.
Granted, he had first made sure that the bastards weren’t lying and then went to his room and locked it, bit the pillow, screamed and couldn’t stop the few goddamned tears, but Tsuna was back. Sure, it was the runt from ten years ago, but it was still him, Squalo knew it. That kindness, that heart of gold and precious sense of justice… The mere knowledge of the fact that this person was breathing somewhere in the world, safe and sound, made him giddy.
Sending a video-message was all he had been allowed to do, but for now that was alright. Because in a rare moment of lucidity Squalo had realized what he could do - there was a way.
Convincing Marmon to help hadn’t been difficult. In the beginning - ten years ago, during the Ring Battles - the Arcobaleno had detested Tsunayoshi. But somehow in the course of these past years when the Tenth was still alive, feelings had turned into reluctant respect, then into loyalty and admiration that rivalled even what they had for Xanxus. Out of the Varia, Squalo suspected, Marmon had the most difficult time accepting that their runt of a leader had died.
So, well, when presented with a chance to get him back for good, the greedy little thing didn’t even think about refusing.
“Do the others know of this?” the illusionist had asked. “Hiding this from Boss will be dangerous.”
“What do you think?” Squalo had scoffed. “This is our project. They wouldn’t understand. What’s there to lose?”
“Your life,” was the calm response, but the swordsman had sneered.
“What’s there to lose?” he had repeated the question, and Marmon finally understood the implications. But while he really wanted the tenth back too, he didn’t know what the silver-haired maniac was feeling. What were his motives? Why would he sacrifice anything to get the other man back? Why had Tenth’s death affected him so deeply?
“Why do you care so much?” Marmon’s question had been met with silence.
“Are you in or not?”
“Of course I’m in, but I want to know your motives. Why go so far for him?”
“If we succeed, I’ll tell you.” Marmon had reluctantly agreed to that. It was obvious that Squalo wouldn’t talk about his reasons yet, and the illusionist could wait.
Their plan was - in theory - laughably simple. To somehow get a message to the past about what was going on, for the sake of preventing the Tenth’s death. The most secure way of sending something to the past, would be using someone who came here via the Bovino Bazooka, so when they returned to their actual time, the object would go with them. Naturally, Squalo was certain that when the Tenth returned to his time, things would surely change… but he wanted to be a part of it. He didn’t trust those guardians with their Sky anymore - they had failed once already.
“Sending a letter or something to my younger self would be useless,” Squalo had told the illusionist, who nodded grimly.
“I know. We cannot guarantee that a letter will reach you there. We need something that only you will understand. However… why can’t it be sent to me?” Marmon asked, and Squalo stopped fiddling with the papers for a bit.
“Back then… ten years ago… it was a few weeks after then Ring Battles… What would your reaction have been had you gotten a message that states that you must do your damnest to save the Tenth?”
“…”
“Back then you weren’t exactly fond of him, now were you?”
“Does that mean that you were?”
“Drop it,” Squalo snapped. “Let’s focus on this now. I told you, if we succeed, I’ll tell you everything.” So Marmon bit his lip and held the numerous questions inside, and tried to focus once again on the message they’d be creating for Squalo’s younger self to get.
“Do you have any ideas?” the Arcobaleno asked.
“You have that illusion-sealing technique, don’t you?” the silver-haired swordsman said. “We can take one of my knives - that way they won’t hesitate about sending it to me then - and you can seal an illusion into it.”
“A truthful illusion?”
“Something like that. My younger self will know what to do with it.”
“Very well, that shall be done.”
oOoOo
It had been three months ever since they put their plan into action. Three months since the Tenth had arrived from the past, and one day since he had returned there. If their plan had worked, soon their memories would change. Marmon had told Squalo to record what had happened somewhere, just in case.
“Remember to make sure that after our memories change, you must still send the knife to your younger self, to avoid a paradox,” the illusionist had said.
“I know,” Squalo had snapped in response. But there wasn’t a clear view on which memories had changed, and which had not. Vaguely he remembered getting a knife with an illusion in it for him. A bit clearer was the memory of assassinating a white-haired brat and another one with glasses - Marmon said they were called Byakuran and Shoichi, but Squalo couldn’t remember anymore why they had been so important.
He did remember, however, spending a month in the hospital, recovering from a nasty attack he had blocked for the Tenth. ´He did remember how often the teary-eyed brunet had visited him. He remembered… so much.
“Squalo,” Marmon’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and the silver-haired swordsman turned to glare at the illusionist.
“VOOOI!! What the fuck do you want now?” he exclaimed in his usual frosty manner, before he remembered his promise, the words he had written in a piece of paper in his pocket. “If we succeed, I’ll tell you everything “, was what he had said. “You want the explanation now?”
“No,” the greedy Arcobaleno said, surprising Squalo. “Your reason for doing so much for him… you reason for going so far. Your reason for what you did… I understand.”
“What the fuck do you think you understand?” the Sword Emperor growled. “Even I don’t get it, so how could you!?”
“Squa-“
“You think it doesn’t confuse me!? You think I don’t spend hour trying to get rid of my thoughts about it - about him!? I’m trying to make sense of what I’m feeling, but fuck, I don’t get it!”
“You’re calmer than you used to be… in the snippets of the memories I have about the alternate future,” Marmon said coolly. “The impact that his presence has on you isn’t normal, Squalo.”
“Get the fuck away from me and stop talking nonsense,” the swordsman growled, and turned away.
“He’s here, you know.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s a lie.”
“…”
“Why don’t you go to him?”
“None of your fucking business, Marmon. Now get lost. Or better yet, hand me one of the mission in the waiting-line and I will leave,” Squalo didn’t feel like doing a mission right now, but he didn’t feel like staying in this building either.
“You’re weird,” Marmon said. “You did so much for him, but when he’s finally here, you avoid the confrontation.”
“There’s no need for the confrontation.” The words ‘because nothing would come out of it’ were left unsaid.
“And why is that so, Squalo-san,” a soft, dearly-missed voice said from the doorway. Squalo stared, gaped, gasped and Didn’t Get It. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at the meeting? Did he have to look that good, dressed in that suit? Why was he looking at Squalo like that? And where was Marmon going?
“Er…” Yes, well, no one could blame Squalo for being excessively articulate right now, but…
“Marmon told me everything,” the Tenth Vongola boss said calmly, although there might have been a slight tremor in his voice. “Thank you. I… I…”
“If all you came to say is ‘thank you’, then whatever,” Squalo growled. “You’re welcome. Now go. I have work.”
“You did so much for me.”
“A subordinate’s duty.”
“Marmon…,” Tsuna said, not looking at Squalo. “Marmon said that you love me.” The silence that followed the statement made the silver haired swordsman fear that the Tenth would hear his loud heartbeats. What had the fucking delusional illusionist said? Was that what he had ‘understood’? How dare he go ahead and say shit like that!?
Yet, Squalo didn’t find the will to deny that statement.
Because deep down, for years now, he had known it to be true. He had known, known, known. Just as he had known that nothing would change even if he had acted out on his feelings - there was no future for a relationship that would produce no heirs to the family. Admitting his love for the Tenth would be too painful. Too difficult. It’d complicate things.
“Marmon,” he said hoarsely. “Marmon should keep his mouth shut about things he doesn’t understand.”
“How about we stop talking about Marmon and focus on the two of us?” the Tenth, with shining, kind and hopeful eyes, asked. “Because I can’t leave this matter alone, Squalo-san.”
“…”
“Because I love you, Squalo-san.” Part of the swords man wanted to curse - loudly - and accuse the Tenth for lying, but he knew that Tsuna wasn’t the sort of person who said things like that without meaning them. With shaky steps Squalo reached the shorter man, silver eyes looking into the wide, caramel brown ones. He wanted to deny. Wanted to say that he didn’t love the other man, just because that would have been the right thing to do and admitting his love easily wasn’t what Squalo was comfortable with. But was there any point in saying otherwise?
“I…” the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come out, and the disappointment he felt was making him frustrated also. That look in the Tenth’s eyes - anticipation in that pale, beautiful face. He wanted so see it bloom into a joyful smile.
“Yes?”
“I… er… I… “ Why couldn’t he say it!?
“It’s okay,” Tsuna whispered with a smile that Squalo didn’t understand. And before he had noticed, the Tenth had leaned forward and stolen a chaste kiss. With great interest, Tsuna observed how many shades of red the feared Sword Emperor could turn to. “There’s no need to say it now.”
“I guess I owe Marmon, after all,” Squalo said gruffly, but couldn’t help but crack a smile when Tsuna laughed - how could he not, when the lovely sound filled the whole room and his heart?
“Yes,” Tsuna said. “We owe him.”
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day in my life
Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It's a day that I can't stand
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go,
I wanna go with you
And if you die,
I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
It's a day that I'm glad I survived