A/N: This is dedicated to Mockingjay Rose. I hope you have a happy birthday! Although this fanfic isn't very happy.
Whispers of White
Life was good, Tsuna would say. Both his parents were alive, there was a roof over his head, polished marble beneath his feet, hanging custom-made suits in an oaken closet, and most importantly, friends around him. He was not born with a disability and had not lost any of his senses. He was able to hear them sing, see their smile, feel their warm hands, smell his dinner, and taste his breakfast. Life was good. Just good.
But occasionally he would dream of his parents dead. The roof might look better if it collapsed and pierced his limbs. The floor should drag him to oblivion. The specks of dirt on his suit would be the center of his focus. His friends should do him a favor and wrap their hands around his neck.
Those nightmares of the metal wafting to his nose and the nails piercing through his throat were never told. Just another bad dream, Tsuna would say before returning to his white papers. Just something to forget about until the night when blackness falls upon his sight, only temporarily, yet he secretly longed for it to stay, so he would not have to see the piling white of papers and insanity.
When he dialed 9-11 with his voice, waiting for help to respond, he heard songs turn into taunts. Words struck the wrong chord within him, sending vibrations that shook his shoulders with broken lyrics left unfinished. His words were only background noise like the screeching disk on a record player no one tried to replace, only chose to ignore. His internal screams with whispers of doubt compiled the song of insanity. But like the screeching record, it was chosen to be ignored.
Rest for a bit and you'll feel better, they would say before running off to track members of the Millefiore. I'm sorry, but we're in a tight spot, they would say before turning the corner. They would never realize that maybe he was also in a state of emergency. He had waited by the emergency door, pounding against the glass to get away from the overwhelming white surrounding his mind. By the time the doors opened, would needles and scalpels, heart monitors and oxygen masks be needed for the patient named "Too late"?
He continued to sign time away on papers. One stack and now two and now a dozen piled to the side marked "Finished". Twice that pile was on his right without a signature on it to claim. It always kept coming and he wondered when the day would come when all papers went to the "Finished" section, so he could join the white in name. He wanted to be "finished".
Maybe one day, the broken lyrics would be completed as the last note would be his dying breath. Maybe one day, the crawling insanity would go on a full-out run and overwhelm his mind. Maybe one day, death would ring at his door and he would finally answer its call.
Maybe one day, he would see his tutor, and not the empty, lifeless pacifier.
A/N: -"They", "their", and "them" refers to "his friends" or Tsuna's Guardians.
-I think white represents insanity and that's why the color often appears like in the papers and in the hospital metaphor. Also note that Tsuna wanted to be with the "black" of his dreams and not the "white" of insanity.
-Note that whenever Tsuna speaks, he's lying or in denial. That means the first paragraph, which is his initial thoughts, are of denial. I also tried to show that through the repeat of the word "good".