A D18 oneshot. Two hearts, beating as one, their fates inevitably intertwined, and a bloodbath.
Something that's been on my mind for the entire day, and writing it out was the best way to get it out of my head. Don't kill me because it's sad. I've been reading depressive D18 fics for two days now, some of them even made me cry.
I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or its characters in any way; if I did, there would be more Hibari :3
He stopped mid-step, his right hands clutching the loyal tonfas trustfully, right arm raised in an offensive pose, ready to strike forwards anytime. Tiny pearl-like beads of dew flew around as he rotated his head half a turn, his profile facing the blonde. Those captivating eyes of steel gazed at the Bucking Bronco relentlessly as he spoke coldly.
Ahh, Kyouya is concerned about me... So sweet...!
The tenth generation Cavallone Boss grinned whole-heartedly at his lover, who was now already dashing forward, eager to give those damn herbivores the death-bites they deserved.
'So, how did it end this way...?'
He pulled the limp body into his lap, and cradled his delicate doll-like lover in his arms.
A finger ran to his lips, silencing the pale Cloud Guardian.
'Even now... even now, he's still insisting on addressing me by his last name... even now, he still won't call me Dino...'
The blood was everywhere.
Pachi pachi, supa... as the tonfas broke skulls one by one.
Pishi pishi, bishi... as the whip crackled and slapped against bodies, sweeping them out of the way.
Bicha bicha, bashan... as veins opened and painted the hall in vibrant crimson.
Dara dara, bota... as drops of thick liquid kept hitting the floor steadily.
They kept killing, slaughtering those men who did nothing wrong but followed the orders they were given; and who had wives, mothers and sisters waiting for them.
They kept killing like their lives depended on it.
Because... they did.
Dino buried his nose into the silky hair that had the faintest scent of orchid permeating through; he had to admit, he grew addicted to him. Addicted to that scent, addicted to the way his body smelled of young grass frosted with morning dew; addicted to the steel-hard glare of those relentless eyes that were like winter sky; addicted to the pale skin that gave in under his fingers like the most exquisite pastry dough.
He had been selfish.
Too selfish for their good.
He tried to hide the tears protruding from his eyes, pools of melted milk chocolate. He tried to suppress the sobs in his chest, and the faintest convulsions of his body. He tried to hide how badly he was afraid of losing him.
Still, the salty liquid trickled down his cheeks, tracing the line all the way to the end of his chin, and dripped onto the hair, mingling with morning dew, sweat and blood.
The blonde chuckled bitterly. Even now, he was still out of reach for the emotions of pitiful herbivores, as he liked to call them. Even now, he was like a God; above any worldly feeling and desires.
He was fierce and unreachable, even in death.
All of them went down.
Melee-weapon wielders, ring bearers, box-users... there was nothing that could stop the two of them, alone, armed each with their loyal weapon and their resolve.
Their resolve, to stand up and fight. To keep on fighting, till the end.
...their or Dino's own family's that turned back on him?
Whichever may come first.
All of them went down, one by one.
Almost all of them.
The Cavallone froze in place as the ominous sound reached his ears. Gunshot. Gunshots. Again and again until a combination of 'thud' and 'crack' announced the shooter's broken skull.
"Stupid Dinousaur," he repeated once again, fighting back the pain spreading through his perforated body.
Once such a splendid boss, armed with his never-dying disarming smile and an old-fashioned tamer's whip, Dino Cavallone was a mere shadow of himself. A broken man, unable to curve his lips into the formerly always-present signature smile of his.
He stared at those captivating marble-cold eyes now, and watched his own tears drip onto the perfect porcelain skin of his former student... of his lover. The fingers found their way to the cheek he knew every square millimetre of by heart, and traced the jawbone upwards, gently caressing.
"Kyouya, my Kyouya... don't leave me... don't leave me now..."
The lithe body in his arms twitched in a spasm, and the man famed to be the strongest Vongola Guardian spat blood, adding onto the marvellous display of the colours of death painted on his shirt.
He didn't smell of grass, morning dew, or orchid now.
He smelled of death.
With the last of his strength, he parted his delicate lips, and forced the words up his throat.
His last gaze to the one that never got to know just how much the raven-haired fighter loved him was no less piercing than in their most fierce battles, spars, and struggles for dominance at making love. And yet, his features softened as he closed his eyes, the last thing lingering in his mind the warmth cradling him.