Warnings: shounen-ai, mentions of mansex, angst & consensual heartbreak
Summary: "If you only come for this long, then don't bother coming at all."
Disclaimer: Katekyou Hitman Reborn & its characters belong to Amano Akira.
Special thanks goes to my lovely personal Aikawa BadAyka.
The calm afternoon was slowly being preponderated by the dusk, spreading stealthily from the east, encroaching the sky in murkier shades of opaque orange merging with fading red, splashing the colours in sombre resplendence like a an old master of art spreads the paint over his canvas, driving the blazing sun persistently towards the horizon. The leaves rustled restlessly; the cool breeze that swept over the silent, unmoving garden an unspoken herald of the chill arriving as late summer slowly weighed into autumn.
Apart from the soothing breath of the Nature, nothing could be heard; the only thing that interrupted the sacred silence a vivacious chirp of a tiny bird, flapping its wings in a fruitless endeavour to spite the breeze and fly in the opposite direction. It was as if time would not flow here, the moving shadows and the darkening sky the only indices of passing; as if nothing changed while the seconds, minutes, hours, ticked by and the world sped past this silent, unmoving haven. Even a small, traditional Japanese teahouse, simple in design and construction seemed as it was merely another fruit of nature, an equal among the maple trees that surrounded it like splatters of vibrant crimson, radiating with some unearthly glow, basking in the waning sunlight – and, had one not been perceptive enough, they would have mistaken the statue-like man sitting inside the teahouse, slowly sipping his tea, for another creation of nature that merely grew there as another flower of the garden, just one of the features of the depiction of still life in front of them.
The raven-haired male, by the looks in his early twenties, was dressed in a plain, drab plum yukata – and merely sat there. His supposed occupation at this time of the day was drinking a cup of his preferred green tea, yet it could be hardly called an occupation since he had spent more time not drinking it rather than doing so. He was waiting; yet, he had conveyed all his willpower into not appearing to be doing so, maintaining the emotionless expression of perfect stoicism while remaining unmoving in his secret haven, lost in thoughts as he counted the minutes that ticked by and contemplated his future with all due gravity, falling into a slightly morose mood.
His languid flow of thought had been disrupted – as always, as the nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him – by a loud, bright, clumsy irregularity that utterly obliterated the calmness of his secret haven while it made its way towards him, crying out his name joyously while still half-garden away, effectively scaring away any living being that had by then quietly settled in the soothing silence.
"Kyoooouuuuyaaaa! I'm here!"
The dignified Japanese, contrasting the flamboyant Italian so painstakingly obvious it might hurt the eyes of an innocent beholder, scoffed in response, while the corners of his lips tugged downwards into a dissatisfied frown.
"That much was quite obvious even without your announcement."
And yet, the blonde, beaming widely, ignored the sting in his words, and jogged towards him lively, responding with a fake pout and in a child-like voice.
"Aww, Kyouya, so cold! But I've come to see you..."
Really, Hibari sometimes truly doubted the Cavallone Decimo's age; his tendencies to act childishly were overwhelming, by far surpassing even the idiotism of the head herbivore – and to be honest, he wasn't sure exactly how to deal with that. Every time he'd seen him, he'd have to reconsider his decision and ponder over reclassifying him into the herbivores group, not to mention doubt his own sanity for actually putting up with him–
"...have you missed me, Kyouya?"
and all of a sudden his voice had that tender huskiness that made him shiver and react to the annoying blonde – and as the words whispered into his ear, accompanied by a pair of slender arms wrapped around him, splashed against his neck with the warmth of his breath, he was tempted to actually say yes.
But alas, there was no such word as "to miss" in the practical vocabulary of Hibari Kyouya. His ears have been longing to hear the melody of the voice they have grown too accustomed to, to hear that husky voice laugh and tease and whisper sweet nonsense; his body has been yearning for the touch of those slightly calloused fingers running over his naked skin, for the swish of the whip tearing away the clothes, for the heat of the pleasing friction of skin against skin, porcelain against tanned, winter against summer in a lapsing dance; his lips have been hungering for the taste of red wine mixed with blood, sweat and saliva, for the addicting taste of the damn Cavallone... yet he would never admit himself falling prey to such worldly desires.
"Hn. Who would've missed you, idiot Haneuma?"
And again, in an instant and without a warning, the serious, seductive and unpredictable Cavallone was gone, once again replaced by the goofy, loud, affectionate blonde constantly spitting nonsense.
"Not faaaaaaaair! We haven't seen each other for such a long time"
(Four months and twelve days. Not that he had been counting, no, he just happened to have a tendency be well-informed about everything.)
"and I've missed Kyouya so much, I couldn't wait to see–"
"How long are you staying this time?"
His cold voice cut like a sword, cleaving through the joyous atmosphere of a loving reunion Dino was trying to create, slashing ruthlessly through the flow of his over-affectionate words, grazing over another wound they both shared that hadn't healed yet. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and even though it was a matter of mere seconds before Hibari spoke again, it seemed like eternity – and eternity of repeatedly being stabbed in the same old wound, somehow puncturing the skin each and every time again, and bleeding yourself while delivering pain to the other.
"A day? Two hours? Five minutes?"
His voice was raspy and aggressive, impatient and accusing, masking the slight tremble he felt building up in his limbs, hiding the herbivorous emotions he loathed so much.
He was merciless, barking the question at him ruthlessly, urging him to stop evading and answer. Of course, he knew it already – or at least suspected the truth – after all, it had been the same again and again recently, falling slowly into a pattern; a pattern that was tiring him and making him weary. Family this way, family that way, urgent matters here and there, and if they were lucky he'd get to stay a day or maybe two, and then be gone for another three of four months.
It was simply tiresome; Hibari could feel his body and his mind growing weary from this pattern they were gradually falling into. A night spent together fighting and making love every three or four months wasn't enough; something as fleeting and contingent as this might have sufficed or even suited him in the beginning, but he wanted more now. He was, after all, a selfish person essentially – and yet this need for more surprised even him. He wanted to possess the Cavallone completely; to have him thinking of him and only of him, and devote all his being to him. And that was something he could not request, even if could have swallowed his pride.
When had it become like this?
Dino sighed, his warm breath whistling gently past his lover's cheek; his grip around the Cloud loosened a bit as his arms settled around the slender man's waist.
"We have problems with some minor families in Italy, they ganged up against us, and they're giving us quite a hard time... I wasn't even supposed to be here at all actually, should've gone straight back to the airport after the meeting. I'm guessing we've got about three hours before they come for me... gotta catch the next meeting in Italy tomorrow."
Three hours... and then he'll be gone again, no one knows for how long this time.
The uncertainty was what was pulling him down. The feeling of not knowing how long will it take before they could be together again; the sense of insecurity, that kind of uncertainty when you don't know whether the next day will come at all.
He hated that, and it was pulling him down like a weight hung around his neck, dragging him deeper and deeper, hauling him lower and lower, away from the endless sky, away from the clouds... while he would not be bound down by anything, he had been bound by this burden as if it had tied up his wings. He could not fly anymore, he could not soar up and away towards the horizon – he was a caged skylark, trapped behind the bars of expectation and uncertainty.
When the words left his lips, his voice was silent and solemn, slightly shaky but determined and dead-serious.
"If you only come for this long, then don't bother coming at all."
He could hear the Cavallone Decimo behind him inhale heavily in shock, and feel the breeze of the chilly air past his neck, sweeping up a few strands of his raven hair. He could sense his lips trying to articulate something at least half coherent, and thus swiftly continued before he could say a word.
"Don't come here anymore.
I don't want to see you here.
Or anywhere else.
Every sentence was like a needle, piercing the skin and twisting inside, grazing the flesh and mutilating the limb beyond recognition – they were simple words that sounded cold and calculated, as if they were prepared in advance, as a handy short speech you always have in store when breaking up with your lover.
The appalled boss could only gape and whisper softly in a hurt voice... "Kyouya..."
"But... Kyouya, I lo–"
Hibari cut him off, only managing a word at a time, for his mask was breaking, and he would not afford to show that to the Bucking Horse – never, he would never show it to anyone, and especially not him...
He didn't want to hear it, he couldn't bear to hear it...
He squeezed his eyes shut in effort, and his head nodded forth so that his bangs draped over his face like curtains, hiding his torn expression.
"Don't. Don't. Don't."
He murmured time and time again, repeating that same word with an unearthly urge.
The Cavallone let him go and stood up silently, his face a perfect reflection of the one hidden behind the curtain of silky black hair.
"I... understand," he replied quietly, and he knew he needn't, as well as shouldn't, say no more.
He walked away, his steps echoing against the stone-paved path ominously as he veered his way towards the exit.
"Sayonara," he whispered to the garden, to Kyouya, to his love.
In the silent, unmoving garden where time did not seem to flow, a single tear trickled down the statue-like man's porcelain cheek. It was not a tear of remorse, neither did it reflect the pain that clutched his chest, threatening to tore him apart – it was a tear of a thousand goodbyes, and the last tear he'll ever shed.
Thank you if you took your time to read this; as always, reviews are love!