Disclaimer: If Katekyo Hitman Reborn were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
Background music: Snow (Hey Oh) – Red Hot Chili Peppers
Minimal fluff 09!
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Snow
He had always loved snow. Had loved the way snowflakes flew and scattered to their own tune, regardless of anything else. They never had to go through a tight schedule with pills and IVs. No, they would pile up outside on the windowsill, causing chilly days and warm homes, muffling the sounds of the nurses and doctors and pagers and beeps. Frozen droplets of water which had its own unique, singular shape that was like no other. Sometimes when the light was right, it seemed to shimmer when the morning light was just peaking over the rooftops. Before the shovels or plows could even touch it, the snow was a white mass that gently covered the whole city in its beauty. The reminder that the world can be a beautiful place sometimes, at least on the outside.
He had a lung disease. Hot, humid days and cold, blistery nights were not for him. Air had to be at a consistency or the coughing fits would come up and blood could come up. The humid days choked him until he felt like he would never take another satisfying breath. The cold wind would chill him to the inner core until he was almost paralyzed. It prevented him from staying outside for too long; the doctors only limited him to five minutes and that was only in ideal weather, which almost never came around in those parts. The window in his room was nice though; he had a sprawling view of the whole hospital campus and in the winter, only children ventured outside to play and make snowmen.
He had many pills; pills for his heart, which was beginning to deteriorate in the stark white sheets and sterile equipment; pills for his lungs; pills for pain; pills to help him sleep…he only had the lung disease but circumstances had made the whole package worse and he wouldn't be surprised if he had to spend the rest of his life in this hospital. Other parts of him would find ways and opportunities to deteriorate and sooner or later he would just become so problematic that no one would know what to do with him.
He had many acquaintances but few friends. He knew his doctor's son, the boy with the shock of brown hair and fish for a name, but he had been seeing less and less of him ever since said boy had gotten to know the hospital director's son, the quiet skylark who was more than he let on. A few days ago, the tuna had come to see him with the skylark and by the way they were, he knew they were more than just 'friends'. He was disappointed that he would be seeing less of them but at least they were happy. He also knew the caterer obsessed with baseball, who would always stop to talk to him with the many gifts he had to deliver which ranged from flowers to stuffed animals to unmentionables. But he was seeing less of him as well since the gift store on the ground floor had hired a new face with silver hair. Everyone around him had people for themselves but he didn't mind much because he knew he was a special case; most people who went to the hospital would stay a while and leave and he was just one of few who would stay forever. He had a nurse, a nice bubbly young woman who the tuna had had a crush on before the skylark stole him away, but she would be transferring in a few weeks. He doubted she would stay being a nurse forever, anyway.
He had been looking outside the window, watching the people outside in the snow and half wishing he could join them when the young man with the different colored eyes appeared at the door.
I left thinking for thought…where did I go, how long was I out looking for you? (1)
Some might call him an angel or a fairy or a genie but he wouldn't call himself those overrated names. He was just someone who could grant wishes. There were some like him out in the world. Magical properties were not hard to come by. In fact, many normal humans came in contact with magic more than they were aware of. He had been sent to the hospital by the will of the universe because there would undoubtedly be unhappy people there. His, and everyone like himself, had one purpose: to make the world a better place by making people happy. Granted, happiness does not include money or fame or power. The little things can change a life.
He was not assigned anyone in particular, but they had given him a name to look into and he wasn't choosy at all. In fact, he hated looking around for someone to grant wishes of; the easier the job, the faster he could finish. He had been seeking this name, this boy so he could wrap it up and get out of this disgustingly clean environment. Sometimes dirtiness is appropriate.
"Basil?"
Truth be told, he didn't like the sounds of this already. He had been guided to the intense care unit and anyone in those parts was most likely a goner. He could already hear one of the wishes as he walked down the hallway, I wish to never die. It was a stupid wish and the humans who had wished that always regretted it later. Personally, he wouldn't hold it against the boy to wish that; he had never seen such a frail looking person in his life with tired eyes and a forlorn expression. It was quite obvious this 'Basil' child had already lost all hope. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if he had asked to die.
"My name is Rokudo Mukuro and I can grant three of your wishes."
It was standard protocol; greet the human with your name and your purpose. Three was the traditional number and no fair wishing for more wishes. It wasn't uncommon for the human to hurry away in disbelief. It wasn't uncommon for humans to poke fun. Mukuro himself had gotten humans on the wrong side of him and reduced them to a shivering pile at his feet. The boy just sat and stared at him. To pass the time, Mukuro picked up the boy's file to find out what exactly was ailing his subject.
"Can you really grant wishes?" It wasn't sarcasm or disbelief. The file had told him that Basil was already fifteen but the question had been asked in the innocent manner of a small child. This boy was still untouched goods, the file continued. In the hospital, he was protected from the nastiness and grime of the outside world and he had only known these four white walls for as long as he could remember. Mukuro nodded without even looking up, his red and dark blue eyes scanning the rest of the charts. This boy had a disease that wouldn't kill him but keep him hospitalized for t he longest of times. Sure torture for anyone alive.
"Then…I wish I could play in the snow without an attack and have someone to stay with me. I think that's two, right?"
Quite unbelievable. The boy had wasted one wish to play in the goddamn snow? Simple minds. Mukuro could easily make that happen as illusions were his specialty. He found it rather interesting that the boy's parents were not in the hospital at all times, though. Perhaps they had given up as well. "I can grant you three," Mukuro reminded, holding up three fingers.
"I only have two right now. I'll think of the last one later." Basil smiled a docile curve. "But I don't think you can grant the first one, Mr. Rokudo."
He had been called many things, but never 'Mr. Rokudo'. It sounded odd and formal and he didn't like it for some reason. Maybe he was just too laid back. "Call me Mukuro." He wasn't a storybook hero; he didn't have to wave his hand for 'magical' snow to appear on the bed, cold but not cold enough to numb the fingers and snow that never melted. It was quite real alright, and there was smug satisfaction to see the look on the boy's face. Who could know that frozen water could bring life back in one's eyes? Basil reached to touch the snow which lingered despite the warm room. Mukuro felt the boy's want to play with it, but age could make one reluctant to show such pleasures in front of others. Giving the boy his privacy, Mukuro promptedly walked out of the room.
He didn't know how long the boy would take and he had been cornered by the nervous nurse who had been assigned to the boy. He didn't really catch her name, only it reminded him of cocoa, and she was rather protective of the boy, demanding to know who he was and why he was seeing him. Explained how he was, who he was, and how she wouldn't let anyone hurt him because he had been hurt enough through his condition. He was well loved and well cared for, Mukuro noted. He would have to see how this boy really was past his weak-looking exterior.
He gave him about an hour. When he went back, the boy was asleep with the snow still sparkling around him and a single tiny snowman sitting on the bed with the words 'Thank you Mukuro' quickly scrawled on it. Mukuro almost laughed.
I want someone to stay with me.
He wasn't sure what Mukuro would do with his second wish. Surely no one could just conjure someone up and give him/her to him, right? Somehow, Mukuro must have taken the wish on himself because he was always showing up and disappearing every day like clockwork. Snow was snow and the snow Mukuro was always bringing him couldn't be real because it wasn't cold and it didn't melt. It was the thought that counted and Basil mused it was relatively better than the powder snow that the baseball caterer had brought him one time. The nurse had gotten used to this daily visitor and Mukuro always sat at the bedside like his parents used to until they decided that taking care of their son could be left with the doctors because they didn't know what to do. They rarely came often and for now, he was glad because he didn't want them to know about Mukuro. It was a strange feeling, wanting to keep something secret from the rest of the word. Currently, the tuna and caterer had no idea of his constant visitor.
The wind was getting warmer and spring was making its slow arrival. Spring was a time he could wander the hospital because he wouldn't have to worry about windows being open and even if they were, the air was not enough to give him an attack. He had explored the hospital too many times to count and he knew every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. He was out walking near the babies when Mukuro rounded the corner and nearly bumped into him.
"Where were you? I thought you had died or something."
He didn't know how he should take Mukuro's words. The young man didn't seem very genuine and everything seemed to be fun and games with him. He didn't know if Mukuro was bored or interested when he sat at his bedside because his face would always been expressionless, but always watching. Mukuro was spending longer and longer periods with him than before and Basil didn't know what to make of that. He was grateful for the company.
"Would you like to go around with me? It's quite interesting here."
And so, Basil took Mukuro on a tour of the hospital, pointing out the pediatrics section and the cafeteria where strange food could be purchased. Mukuro saw the private rooms and waiting areas and doctor lounges and rooms where the busiest healer could take a ten minute break. They were passing the busiest waiting area and for a moment, a wave of people had rushed through to get the most of visiting hours and the two were separated for a brief moment. When they reconvened, there were no words and Mukuro took Basil's hand although the latter could take care of himself and knew the place better than the former. There was no struggle and Basil kept the hold even as they walked past the gift store and saw the baseball caterer talking to the silver-haired cashier. Nevertheless, the gift store occupants noticed the contact of the hands closer than they did themselves.
When they got back to the room, the doctor was upset that Basil had taken so long out of the room and shooed Mukuro away so he could do a checkup. Doctors are supposed to probe the patient's body to ensure tip-top health and for a moment, Mukuro contemplated if he should even let go of the boy's hand. But Basil slipped through his fingers like oil and the door was closed on him for the day. It would be the first time he did not leave by his own choice.
It was like…the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say (2)
Mukuro had been with Basil for some weeks now but he had never seen an attack before. Although the file stated he could only go outside only with certain conditions, Basil had wanted to show him the roof and Mukuro didn't know how to persuade him not to. When they were outside, the air was warm and the wind was gentle, kissing their skin and ruffling hair and clothing. They were not holding hands as the whole idea of contact was slowly becoming awkward and stomachs of butterflies. They had only been outside for a minute or so when the attack started. It began as an itch in the throat, then a cough, and a burning of the lungs. Basil's complexion had always been fair but it was losing color as Mukuro attempted to alleviate the symptoms. A doctor would not come fast enough and surely Basil would be scolded again for doing something so reckless. His doctor already mistrusted the illusionist ever since the long-winded tour and surely the next time, he wouldn't be allowed to set foot in the boy's room again.
He couldn't let the boy continue to suffer. The most he could do was bend the fabric of space to trick the body into thinking the conditions were perfect. It would allow temporary fixture and in that time, he would have to carry the almost unconscious boy back to the room before he would be missed.
The bond formed when one saves another's life to a certain extent cannot be seen or felt but lingers in the air like a breath.
The skin's phosphorescence…could drive not only men but civilization mad (3)
His head was dizzy, but it wasn't because of the pills that helped him sleep. He couldn't think straight, like mist clouding over, but it wasn't because of the lung pill's side effects. He felt hot and cold at the same time but it wasn't because the window was slightly open, the shades drawn because he didn't want anyone to see him at a time where he felt so confused and content and vexed and relieved all at the same time, feelings clouding over and emotions crashing over his psyche. It was a feeling friends could not create and one family could not induce.
Mukuro kissed him today.
It was quite sudden, like the shift in temperature sometimes during a rather serendipitous spring. The moment where they were friends and suddenly they weren't. The moment when touching became touching and eyes were not just watching, but they were watching. The moment when Basil was telling Mukuro how snow was no longer appropriate for the season and how finally he might be able to go outside and Mukuro was nodding and then he was leaning forward with his arms propped on the bed and he and he
The first kiss is always followed by an awkward silence, even if it is expected and desired. As if the tuft of hair on his head was on fire, Mukuro quickly excused himself to get coffee, leaving Basil alone.
Boys kissing boys was not a new factor in his life. He had accidentally walked in to the skylark and tuna one day while exploring by himself. He had seen the caterer bid farewell to the gift store clerk. The boy down the hall with glasses and a stomach problem had a suitor with almost white hair and strange tattoos below his eye. It seemed that all the rainbow flags had conveniently convened at this singular location. He didn't know he swung that way but anyway he had never really cared because he would stay here forever and no one would really want to know and girls like gay guys anyway.
But Mukuro kissed him today.
Speak of the devil, here he came. Mukuro was self assurance and self confidence and here he was looking sheepish and opening his mouth to apologize, that he really didn't mean to spring it on him and he was fine if Basil just told him his last wish and he could leave and never come back and god, that coffee the cocoa girl made was grainy.
Basil never really cared much for coffee but…he supposed if it tasted like this from Mukuro's mouth, he wouldn't really quite mind.
Loving him…I would commit suicide in a fit of ecstasy (4)
His heart was weak, yes – after all, he still needed his pills, but he would not die from sweet death. (5)
We're all in this together…and later we'll descend. (6)
One such as himself cannot fulfill his duty of spreading happiness if he only goes to one person for the rest of his days. It was true a human could wish one such as himself to be with them forever, but Basil had one wish left as he had fulfilled the snow wish and was there for him for the second wish. As much as he would like Basil to use his last wish to keep them together, he also had a selfless one to cure the boy so he could go out in the world without staying cooped up in the hospital. There were more facets of the world for the boy to see than just the white walls and sterile hallways. He couldn't stay because a wish-granter doesn't stay in one place for long unless a wish ties them to; he couldn't guarantee he could go back to Basil after granting wishes elsewhere – what if someone asked him to stay with them forever? He couldn't refuse. The subject's wish was his command and he had no power to help if he wasn't wished to do so.
It is a hard subject to bring up as they are used to each other but it is one that must be called to attention. Basil's reaction is exactly what he anticipated.
"Then I want you to stay with me."
But you cannot be better.
"It doesn't matter. If I stay here and you'll be here too, then I would be happy."
It's not better at all. And they both know it. The road had forked off into two directions, two choices: Mukuro would be tied to the hospital but their happiness would be hindered by the fact that Basil was indeed still sick. Or, Basil could be cured but never see Mukuro again – a wish-granter is only seen by the subject once in their lifetime: when the wishes are being granted. He wanted the boy to be happy and he himself would be happy if the boy was better. There were no rules to be broken; they were set in stone and there was no way to squeeze out another wish. Wishes could not be connected using 'and' and considered as one, as Basil had picked up on the first time they met.
The obvious choice was quite easy and quite hard.
The universe calls for its wish-granters to move and benefit the world and the call of the traveler is not so easily ignored. Visiting hours had long passed but Mukuro had managed to hide until night time when the moon cast the sun's reflection on the grass on campus. The boy was sitting in bed, as he always seemed to be doing, and Mukuro was sitting with his back against the door to keep the doctors from coming in. They needed a moment.
"What would make you happy?" The moon's reflection looked like eternity in the pair of blue eyes.
"If you were better."
"I want you to be happy."
You're not authorized to say that, Mukuro wants to say. I need to be saying that. I want you to be happy. But I know you won't be happy, truly happy, if you stay here. I just want you to be happy. Why can't it be that simple? Mukuro knows the wish before Basil can even say it and he walks over to the bed before the words can tumble out. He knows any kind of contact with give the boy second thoughts and there cannot even be a hug goodbye. Basil doesn't even look at him when he says, "I wish I were better."
When Mukuro is gone, Basil doesn't give himself time to mourn. Nighttime is for sleeping.
It takes the doctors some time to allow him to go home again, fully and miraculously cured. His parents were overjoyed and were already planning the new life. He doesn't know what to do; all he has known is the hospital and now he was thrust into the rest of the world. He would have to make do on his own. Before, he could always feel if Mukuro was nearby; now he cannot feel anything. The sun smiles down at him and the wind does not irritate his lungs. It comes at a soothing touch.
Here becomes there without ceasing to be (7)
Owari
References:
(1) stanza from The Meadow by Kate Knapp Johnson
(2) stanza from Part of Eve's Discussion, by Marie Howe
(3) stanza from Skin by Lucia Perillo
(4) stanza from Happy Marriage by Taslima Nasrin
(5) Sweet Death is a term I learned from a R-18 doujinshi of Kingdom Hearts…that should give it away, but in case you still don't know, just say so and I'll PM you the meaning.
(6) stanza from Elevator Music by Henry Taylor
(7) stanza from Passer-by, These are Words by Yves Bonnefoy
Note: Many, many references, as you can see. I wanted to write a deepish, melancholy 6984 but I don't know if I pulled it off. Not really fluff, I don't think. Not really angst, either. Review what you think, please. Even if you don't like the pairing. Originally, I was planning more of a threeshot, but then it might becoming something like Claddagh…don't want to start that again.
Note 2: Claddagh was supposed to be updated earlier...however, technical difficulties ensured on my end. Thus...the new chapter will appear tomorrow.