Hey guys! This is just a little prologue to the story I'm working on.
8059's such a great pairing :D One of my favourites in KHR, second to only 6918.
This story will contain lots and lots and lots of angst - No, I don't usually write angst fics, but I decided to try after a large portion of the fanfics I read nowadays are angst. The next story after this one will probably be fluff though! I love fluff :P
Reviews and/or critiques are most welcome! Like it? Hate it? Feel free to let me know!
Starting out on a new account is never easy, so I really hope you guys like this first story on my new account.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fanfic, they all belong to Akira Amano. If I did, I would make sure that 6918 and 8059 happened.
The Rain before a Storm
Target 1: Choice
"Choose."
A silky voice hissed, piercing the darkness. The voice was harsh, adding a sinister touch to the otherwise pleasant word. If he had been thinking straight, if he didn't have plentiful cuts and bruises wrecking his entire being, if he wasn't held down by these goddamned iron chains, perhaps he would have recognized the voice. But he didn't, and he could do nothing as the word reverberated through empty corridors, echoing, mocking him.
From where he lay defeated on the ground, he commanded his hand to move. His leg. Nothing. All he managed was the sharp graze of chain against wound, scraping away the dry blood that caked his skin. A new, fresh flow of blood spurted out of his wound, trickling down to pool around his seemingly lifeless body. He had a metallic taste in his mouth, and he licked his cracked lips.
"Hey hey, look at him, he isn't even fighting back anymore! Is he really the rain guardian of the Vongola? How pathetic!"
A high pitched squeal. One of the man's underlings he supposed. But she was right. Rain guardian huh, he mused. Yes, he was a pathetic excuse for a guardian. He couldn't even protect the one who mattered the most. He'd allowed them to be captured; If only he had been stronger. If only he had gotten there faster. If only…
He clenched his fists tightly, dirt-clogged nails digging into flesh. His mind barely registered the pain, however, as he gazed sidelong at the operating table which held his friend. He felt an ache and an edge of sadness in his heart as he saw the man whom he loved in his state. His silver hair had lost its usual gleam, now looking more like a dirty grey, and he lay slumped on the table. He was visibly struggling to breathe, as tube upon tube were inserted into his body, and blood was drawn. They didn't even give him anesthesia, he realized with a start. Even in the sickly orange light, he could see that the silverette had grown even paler. His face was rigid with pain, but his eyes flicked back and forth under the lids and his lips moved. Snatches of words, fragments only, meaningless. Even as he looked, his complexion worsened, as if the colour that remained were being sucked out of him with a straw.
It was no longer a choice. It was a necessity.
Yamamoto had made up his mind. He couldn't let him suffer any longer.
"Stop. I accept your terms."
I know this chapter was relatively short, but hey, how long can a prologue be? I promise the interesting stuff comes right after that though, so stick around to find out more!