The Tragedy of Icarus
Characters: Dino/Hibari, mentioned Dino/OC
Summary: 31days prompt: August 29 – "The aftertaste is gonna break your heart." Dino is getting married, and Hibari does not care.
Warnings: Might be OOC? My first foray into the KHR fandom.
"Let's stop doing this," Dino said once day, almost out of the blue. He took your hand in his, and brought it to his lips, his head bowing. Golden hair fell across his face, hiding his eyes.
"Let's stop this, Kyouya."
You could only look at him with impassive, passionless eyes, your head tilted slightly to the side; an illusion that you cared, perhaps. Dino smiled, reaching over and cupping your cheek gently – feather-light touches, as if you would break, or would fly away, if the touch was too rough. You turned away, and that hand fell back to his lap.
A breath; inhale, exhale. You were fascinated by the movements of Dino's chest. You did not reach out to touch, for it was not your way.
"I have to get married in six months," Dino's voice was hoarse, but he was smiling. His eyes glittered like bronzite or citrine under the sun. The mafia's beautiful golden boy, you thought faintly, and wondered why those eyes and those words made your chest ache and your breath hitch and shorten. "I can't... I can't-"
You didn't find out what Dino couldn't, because Dino had grabbed you then, and pulled you close, nearly crushing you with the hug. Dino was muttering in Italian at you, Ti amo, Ti amo, Ti amo, Kyouya, Ti penso sempre, Ti amo... and you did not understand.
But you did not push him away.
You closed your not-burning, not-tearing eyes, and wondered what the fuss was about. Hadn't you both always known that this was not something that was made to last? You accepted Dino, you thought, because you had needed release – it was an exchange of mutual benefit, without emotions involved because you knew, knew as well as the feel of metal in your hands and blood in your mouth, that you wouldn't be able to feel the same. Yet...
Yet Dino seemed to feel more than enough for the both of you.
You ran your hand through his hair and dropped your head on his shoulder, drinking in the words that he was saying without understanding. You could feel tears in your hair, and felt faint annoyance because it meant that you would have to wash your hair again today.
You dropped your head onto his shoulder and tried to reason the odd pain in your chest away.
Six months passed you by in a numb daze – it would not have mattered if it was a month, a year, or a decade. The days flew by without anything special for you to mark them by. Thus it was soon May.
Dino's bride was beautiful, tall and red-haired with a smile that captured the sunlight and made it her own. She was graceful and radiant, with large smiling eyes. They looked beautiful together, red and gold blending together like a celebration of Chinese New Year you remembered attending. Red for luck and prosperity, you could barely remember, and gold for royalty. It was certainly fitting for the both of them.
Your well-wishes were sincere – you even gave them a wedding gift in addition to attending.
But his answering smile was not – too wide with too much false cheer, his hand when he shook yours was clammy and cold, completely unlike the warmth that you were used to. But you pushed those little details out of your mind, because it was not in your nature to care about such mundane things.
Later, when the newlyweds had sped off for their honeymoon – complete, of course, with Romario and Dino's other men to protect them – and the reception had degenerated into a raucous party, you picked up a glass of red wine and retreated to the gardens of Dino's mansion. You were familiar enough with the place that you did not need the meagre lights of the stars to see.
You leaned against a tree and looked over the flowers in Dino's gardens. Tomorrow would be your birthday, you realized, and wondered – as you were wont to when slightly intoxicated – what the colours of the roses that Dino would be sending. He had sent you eighteen blue roses last year, light blue with darkened tips, as many as your age. It was something of a tradition between the two of you: he sent roses each year, no matter how much you threatened him to stop. Perhaps the roses would be violet, you thought of your flames, and berated yourself for your foolish sentimentality. You would rather he not send them at all-
There were tears running down your cheeks.
Your glass fell to the floor, smashing against the pebbles. Red wine, crimson as blood, spread everywhere.
Dino would never send you roses again, you realized. It would be unseemly for a married man to send another man flowers, much less roses. The annoying, endless chatter next to your ear was gone and would never return, and Dino would never mutter nonsensical Japanese or even more ridiculous Italian to you.
You closed your eyes and slid down to sit down on the grass, your knees folding like the traitors they were. You covered your eyes with a hand like the gesture would stop the tears from flowing. Your shoulders shook, your lips curving up into a smile as bitter as regrets.
Even after six months, even after the wedding...
You had not learnt how to let him go.