Nobody expected Gokudera to be the first guardian to die.

He was the strong one, the one with the most will to live.

He was the Tenth's right hand man.

The mist clears.


In the blink of an eye, there he was, as if he was never gone.

Navy hair, mismatched eyes and sun bronzed skin had transformed.

"Take me, Shamal."

But no amount of willpower could save him from a bullet to the heart.

And there was nothing Shamal could do to fix him.

He licks up and down the long neck, biting and sucking, making as many marks as he can. Because he knew this wouldn't last.

It isn't real.

He kisses the small pink lips forcefully, shoving his tongue inside, trying to find something familiar.

Instead of the usual cigarette sweet flavour, there is the stale dusty taste of unhappiness and despair.

It's not the same.

The funeral was held the day after his death.

Too soon.

Not enough time for it to really sink in, for everyone to realize how different it was without him.

He was buried in the clearing just outside of the Vongola base. His gravestone was simple. Just a gray granite slab placed on the ground,

engraved "Gokudera Hayato" in delicate lettering. White Peonies adorned the space around it.

Shamal could remember one time when Gokudera had said his favourite flowers were Peonies. He said the many soft petals reminded him of the flowing lace on his mother's dress.

He runs his fingers through the silver locks of his partner, who moans and grips the sheets hard. The hair is still soft and fine.

But when he moans, it's different.

The voice is the same, but it's not right.

The thrusts are slow and deep, he wants to make this last as long as possible.

It's not real, but it's the closest thing he can get.

He stood there, just staring at the scene. It was a warm day, calm and still, the soft breeze stirring the leaves and the sunlight shining on the petals of the flowers, making them glow. It was a perfect day. Except the part where it was not.

Except for the part where Gokudera died, and he never got to say goodbye and why didn't he say 'I love you' more, and holy shit he'll never see him again and he wants to cry so bad right now and so he does.

Everyone had already left, gone to grieve in their own ways. Only Shamal is left.

He crumples to his knees, and sobs loud gasping sobs that break the imperfect silence. One hand grips his heart, trying to ease the throbbing pain, the other is placed on the ground to steady himself, because he feels like he might just fall over. Tears slide down his face, falling and then disappearing in the grass.

"Kufufu... I pity you."

That voice. One that seems to bring the air of cold unfeelingness, shatters the picture of glowing petals and whispering trees.

The thrusts are more erratic. Faster, faster. Harder, harder.

They're both at their limits.

No no no no. It can't be over.

Shamal freezes. The presence behind him is a silk ribbon, sliding around his body, holding him tightly in place. His skin tingles.

"I can bring him back."

He looks up.

...bring him back?

Bring him back?

"But in return..."

He didn't finish, as Shamal was already dragging him back to the base.

They end up the base's infirmary.

"Do it. Bring him back. I'll give you anything, I don't care."

"Kufufu...Very well. I can only do it for a little while though."

He smiles a cruel, plotting smile that would have made Shamal wary, even a little scared had they been in a different situation.

A thick mist surrounds them both and engulfs the room.

They both climax.

He chokes out a "H-hayato..." and the other lets out a sharp cry.

They collapse on each other and stay like that for what feels like too long.

The mist returns, and the image of Gokudera dissolves.

It is replaced by the mist guardian. He gets up. Only the almost silent rustle of clothes can be heard.

"Don't forget your end of the deal, Shamal."

"Of course no, Ha-...Mukuro."

Mukuro smirks and abruptly leaves the room, leaving Shamal in the imperfect silence and the memory of someone long gone.

This is a fill for a prompt, long ago requested on the KHR Kink Meme.

It is not at all a fantastic piece of writing.

I am proud of it nonetheless.

Maybe, one day I will feel like writing another failure.

Till then,