A/N: Um, hello. I should have updated for my other story, but…I wrote a new one. Sigh. I know I shouldn't have, but the story kinda came to me, and my English teacher did say that once you think up of an idea, you should write it down immediately. And so, this is the product of that. o_o

This is slightly inspired by one of Metamorcy's prompts, where Tsuna is an adult and Fong is a kid. :D I hope you enjoy reading this. Here's the first chapter of Interlude~

Disclaimer: Naah. X3

Extra Note: By the way, I imagined the song that Tsuna's playing to be Love Me by Yiruma. It's really beautiful. You could try listening to it while you read if you want. :3

Interlude

-Chapter 1-

Fong stopped in front of a small gate, panting slightly as he leaned his shoulders against the railings. He ran a hand through his bangs and wiped off the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. He closed his eyes as he tried to even out his labored breathing. His lips pulled into a small sardonic smile. Maybe he shouldn't have run all the way from school after all. He overestimated his body.

He clenched the strap of his school bag tightly.

Asthma can't be cured. He knew that.

The words of his doctor rang in his ears. Even when you feel fine, you mustn't forget that you still have the disease. It can flare up at any time. The medications helped get rid of the symptoms but you should try not to overwork your body. He remembered how patronizing the baritone voice sounded like. How every word was uttered in a soothing manner and was laced with mild worry. Yet despite all that, he did not fail to detect the tone of indifference and disinterest that lay underneath. It was typical for a doctor. They must have been obliged to put up a facade that shows concern for their patients.

Feeling a lot better, he pushed himself away from the gate and straightened his disheveled uniform. He then turned to face the gate in front of him, his eyes lingering on the familiar intricate design of twisted and coiled wrought iron before pushing it open, granting him entrance to the property.

His footsteps echoed lightly on the cobblestone footpath. He took his time walking the short distance towards the front door of the quaint house as he glanced around his surroundings, his long braided hair swaying behind him with every step. He smiled as he noted that the flowers in the garden were starting to bloom. They would be beautiful once they were in full blossom. He felt happy knowing that planting them proved to be worth the while.

Finally having reached the house, he stood at the front porch in silence. He could faintly hear music coming from the inside as he rummaged through his pants pocket, revealing a silver key hanging off of an orange tuna-shaped keychain. He smiled at the small trinket in his hands before promptly shoving the key into the keyhole and turning it to unlock the door, pushing it open with a slight crack to its hinges.

He stepped inside the house and closed the door behind him silently. The room was flooded with the sound of different vibrating octaves; with soft and flowing music. It was beautiful, almost like a warm and feathery lullaby. The fluid melody was played with such Grazioso.

It wasn't his first time to hear it. No, it wasn't foreign to him. He's heard it countless of times before through the years. And yet, he couldn't help but to feel drawn to the soulful tune.

He found himself captivated by the almost magical sound.

He allowed his feet to slowly wind his way through the familiar interior of the house, following the source of the music. He entered the living room and froze on his spot by the door. His eyes landed on the ebony-colored grand piano situated in the middle of the adequately spaced room, and on the mop of brunet hair that was seated in front of the majestic instrument. Fong's dark onyx eyes softened at the sight of the man.

He watched as the brunet's hands glided over the long ivory keys in swift and graceful movements. It was as if his delicate fingers were dancing to the sounds that they make with every press of a key. He glanced at the man's face. The brunet's eyes were dazed and half-lidded, as if he was in his own world of fantasy.

The teenager closed his eyes, allowing him to further be entwined by the beauty of the sounds emitted from the piano. He relaxed as he felt the melody caress his senses. The room was silent save for the reverberating music.

Suddenly, there was a soft grunt of pain, and then a succession of mismatched notes.

Silence prevailed throughout the room.

Fong's eyes flew open, his eyes widening at the sight of the brunet leaning onto the piano. His hands were held tightly together, knuckles almost turning white. His porcelain face was marred with a pained expression.

"Tsuna!"

The Chinese paid no heed as his bag slipped off his shoulder and dropped to the ground in a muffled thud. He wasted no time in getting to the other's side. But at the sound of his name, the brunet quickly sat rigid in his seat and relaxed the tight hold he had on his hands. His face was expertly schooled into a neutral expression. All signs of prior pain were gone, and Fong questioned himself if it was only his imagination. Tsuna turned to face him, the ends of his lips curving upwards into a small smile.

Fong narrowed his eyes in both suspicion and worry. The smile looked forced.

"Fong." Tsuna nodded to him in greeting, the smile still present on his lips. "How long have you been here?" He reached up to grab a hold of the teenager's hand and pulled him to take a seat beside him on the padded bench. The teen obliged and obediently sat down next to the petite man. "You should have called out to me when you arrived."

The Chinese kept his voice calm. "Long enough." He then turned to look at Tsuna in the eye, his voice laced with worry. "Are you alright?"

The brunet waved off the concerned inquiry with a soft chuckle. His warm caramel eyes bore into Fong's onyx ones. "It's just pianist cramps. I'm fine." He smiled again, this time a genuine one. "Really, you don't need to worry."

Fong sighed as he let the subject drop. He never could win against his teacher's smile.

If possible, Tsuna's grin grew much wider. His voice held a tone of amusement. "Well then, are you ready for today's lesson?"

Fong sat in front of the grand piano by himself, his hands positioned inches away from the ivory keys. He glanced sideways to his teacher sitting comfortably on a separate chair beside the piano. He nodded for him to start.

He nodded once and then turned towards the piano. He let out an exhale to relax his shoulders before his long slender fingers glided and wove the opening bars of Beethoven's Appassionata, breathing life into the instrument; soft and delicate as silk, molding into a fast pace. His fingers hovered across the keys, playing in graceful yet strong and rapid motions. It was a fairly difficult piece. He closed his eyes in concentration and allowed his thoughts to drift away with the flowing music.

The melody coming from the instrument slowly filled up the room. Memories of the past flooded his thoughts as his fingers continued with their activity.

-:-

He sat on the couch silently as he waited for his mother to finish talking with the stranger they came to meet. They were seated at the other side of the room, and he could hardly hear their silent conversation. Not that he would listen in though. His father did say that it was impolite to eavesdrop. He always followed what his father told him like an obedient child…

He covered his mouth with his hands to muffle the string of coughs that erupted from his throat.

He sighed as he let his hands fall to his lap. He began playing with the ends of his traditional red Chinese clothing. He pulled at the long sleeves.

Fong Tai. He was the only son of the head of the Tai family, a family of superior martial artists. He was to be the heir to the family dojo and to their family's style of martial arts. He knew his father expected a lot from him, but he was born a sickly baby. Now at ten, he was prone to having coughing and wheezing fits. There were times when he couldn't breathe just after running a short distance. He was asthmatic, and that in itself was a problem.

Although his skills were honed to perfection, he could never execute them properly. He was dubbed as a failure, and his father never failed to let him know how disappointed he was in him.

He could never live up to his father's expectations with his weak body.

He shook his head to rid himself of his depressing thoughts and opted instead to scan the unfamiliar room to keep his self occupied. The color of dark ebony caught his attention. He turned his eyes towards the center of the room.

'A piano?'

Fong slowly stood up from his seat and made his way towards the grand piano, unaware of a pair of caramel eyes watching his every move intently from the other side of the room. He stared at the instrument with newfound curiosity, noting the set of ivory keys and the smaller charcoal black ones. He placed his hand on top of the smooth surface. For some reason, he felt some kind of attraction towards the musical instrument before him.

"Would you like to try playing it?"

Fong jumped at the sound of the voice and quickly turned around to come face to face with the stranger. How did he get near him without him noticing? He studied the brunet in front of him and noticed how young he looked. He only appeared to be a few years older than him and looked no older than 16.

He watched as the older boy sat on the bench in front of the piano and started to play a soft and gentle lullaby. It was clean and simple; he felt himself getting drawn to the melody.

The music died out as the brunet's fingers floated off the keyboard. He turned to face the younger boy.

"I'm Tsuna. Tsunayoshi Sawada." He smiled a small smile. "You are?"

Fong squirmed at the conversation. He wasn't really sure if he should answer or not. He looked up at the kind-looking person in front of him. He chose the former.

"Fong." He answered in a polite tone.

Tsuna reached over and ruffled his dark locks. "It's nice to meet you, Fong. Would you like me to teach you how to play?" He motioned to the piano's keyboard.

His eyes widened slightly at the offer. He wanted to. He turned to look at the imposing figure of the piano. He traced his hand along the smooth curve of its side. He raised his head and caught his mother's eyes, silently asking for permission. He was met with a gentle smile and a slight nod of the head, urging him to do what he wants.

His lips pulled up into a smile as he turned to look at the brunet.

"Yes, please."

-:-

He watched the brunet from the corner of his eyes as he continued to play. Tsuna's eyes were closed, as if listening to the music in deep concentration. He's been like that for a few minutes now, and Fong suspected that his mentor has accidentally fallen asleep.

He chuckled silently at the thought.

He smirked to himself and deliberately hit the wrong set of keys.

"You got that part wrong, Fong."

Fong's eyes widened and he turned to look at the brunet seated beside the piano. Tsuna still had his eyes closed, but he now sported a knowing smile on his lips. The teen sheepishly turned away to focus on his performance.

A few moments later, Tsuna opened his eyes to look at the younger boy playing the piano in an almost effortless manner. His smile spread wider in a surge of happiness and pride.

-:-

"Sensei!"

Fong called out to his mentor repeatedly but was only met with silence. He's been ignored for a while now. He sighed and tried to get the brunet's attention again.

"Sensei."

Nothing.

"Sawada-sensei."

Silence.

"Sawada-sa –"

"Tsuna."

Fong blinked at the sudden sound of his teacher's voice.

"Eh?"

"Call me Tsuna." Tsuna finally turned around to face him. It's only been a year, but the both of them are almost at the same height. "I told you to do so, didn't I?"

Fong fell silent. He refused to call his teacher by his first name out of politeness. Respect was ingrained in his head since the time he first learned to speak after all. "But –"

The brunet reached forward and ruffled the younger boy's dark colored hair. "I'm a good seven years older than you, you know." He winked at him. "You should follow what your elders tell you."

The Chinese sighed in defeat. "Tsuna-san."

"Tsuna." The brunet smiled at him, refusing to budge.

Silence.

Fong sighed in mild frustration before smiling a small smile. "Tsuna."

The teenager's lips were curved in a wide smile. "Yes, Fong?"

"I really think we should start with my lesson now. It's been more than an hour."

Tsuna's voice was laced with amusement as he answered. "Gladly."

Really, his teacher was just too childish sometimes…

-:-

Fong closed his eyes in deep concentration as he prepared for the Cantabile, his fingers pressing the piano keys in swift and graceful movements.

-:-

It was snowing and the neighborhood was blanketed in white. Fong stood by the door of his teacher's house waiting for his arrival. He wrapped his thick woolen scarf around his neck and stuffed his mitten-covered hands in his pants pockets in an attempt to keep warm. He checked his imaginary watch. Was he too early? Maybe he should've called before he came.

He's 14 now. It has been four years since he started learning how to play the piano. Needless to say, his asthma was getting better. He was happy for that. But he still wasn't allowed to overexert himself.

He shuffled on his feet as he thought of his father. He sighed. His relationship with his father probably wouldn't be changing any time soon.

"Fong!"

He was brought out of his musings when he heard his name. He lifted his head and saw the brunet running towards him. He waved back in acknowledgement.

"Whew! Sorry I'm late. There was some stuff I had to take care of at the college." He rummaged through his pockets for his house keys. "Anyway, it's so cold out here." He turned to look at Fong as he opened the door. "How long have you been out here? Did you wait long?"

Fong shrugged his shoulders in response. "Not really." And as if to contradict with his statement, he suddenly felt a sneeze coming and immediately covered his nose with both hands. "Achoo!" After which he began coughing.

"Oh no! 'Not really' my foot! You're going to catch a cold! Quick, get in!" Tsuna hurriedly shoved Fong into the house and dragged him to the direction of the living room. He pushed him down onto the couch. He spoke in a firm voice, leaving no room for arguments. "Stay there." Fong could only nod in compliance.

In a span of a few minutes, the 14 year old was changed out of his cold and slightly wet clothing and was seated comfortably on the couch; a thick blanket was wrapped around his shoulders.

"I'd be dead if you ever catch a cold. Have you seen your mom angry? God, she's scary. She'd probably skin me alive if –" Tsuna was babbling as he paced around the room, putting things in order.

Fong smiled as he watched the other's antics. Tsuna's turning 21 this year, and yet he still looks and acts like a 16 year old. He chuckled lightly at the thought.

Tsuna turned to look at him and pouted. "It's not funny you know." But then broke out into laughter himself. He sat next to the teen and relaxed into the cushions.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, before Tsuna spoke up.

"Would you like some tea? I'll make them." He slowly stood up without waiting for the other's response.

Fong visibly paled and attempted to stand up, but was held down by the brunet. "It's fine. Leave it to me." He smiled then made his way to the kitchen. A few seconds later, sounds of crashing, clicking of cooking ware, and muffled shouts were heard loudly in the background. The Chinese could only sigh as he put a hand to his face. He knew from experience that the brunet was notoriously clumsy. How he managed to be such a graceful and refined pianist was a mystery.

Tsuna finally emerged from the kitchen balancing two steaming cups of tea on a small tray, his pale skin littered with a few bruises. He slowly knelt on the floor and placed the tray on top of the coffee table. He stood up and handed one cup to Fong, keeping the other cup for himself. They drank their tea in silence.

Fong gazed at his teacher intently as he drank his tea. He noted the older man's pretty features. His soft brunet hair and warm caramel eyes. His small pink lips and cute button nose. It amazed him, really, how much he enjoyed watching the 20 year old. Tsuna suddenly turned towards him and caught his eye. Fong's eyes widened a bit at the realization that he might have probably been caught staring, but he didn't tear away his gaze.

He watched as Tsuna stood from his position on the couch and walked towards him. His heart was beating loudly in his chest as the brunet bent down to his eye level, his face merely centimeters away from his. He felt cold hands brush away his bangs, and then his head met with something hard. It took him a minute to realize that it was the other's forehead. A few moments later, Tsuna stood from his position and crashed on the spot next to the stunned teenager.

He sighed in relief.

"You were kinda red there. I had to check your temperature. Luckily, you don't have a cold." He smiled at the younger boy and gave him the thumbs up sign before he stood up and turned his back to him. He stretched his arms over his head as he walked towards the piano in the middle of the living room. "Well then, let's start with today's lesson shall we?"

Fong kept silent as he stood from his seat and made his way to follow the other towards the piano. All the while, he kept his head low and willed the deep flush of red on his cheeks to go away.

A few days later, Tsuna handed him a small silver key hanging off of an orange tuna-shaped keychain.

-:-

Fong played with his eyes closed. His slender pianist fingers were drifting across the notes, from black keys to white keys. As the melody came to an end, his fingers relaxed and exerted less pressure when he pressed the keys. The tune faded softly and quietly, reluctantly melting into the silence. Sighing, Fong drew his hands back from the keyboard.

He could hear the sound of clapping in the background as he opened his eyes. He turned towards his teacher and found him smiling at him.

"That was wonderful, Fong. You really do have the talent for this. You've nearly mastered such a difficult piece in a span of a few days." He stood from his seat and ruffled the 16 year old's hair affectionately.

The Chinese smiled gently at the familiar gesture. "I have an amazing teacher after all."

Tsuna took his seat again, as if dismissing the statement. "I don't see why you keep on refusing the idea of holding a recital. I think you're more than ready with your current level of skill."

Fong simply shook his head, choosing not to give an answer. I only want you to listen to my music… He kept silent, lest he might voice out his thoughts.

The brunet sighed, his shoulders drooping as he leant against the chair he was sitting on. He smiled warmly at the teen. "I suppose that's enough for today." He glanced at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. "It's getting late." He slowly walked towards the door, gesturing for the other to follow him.

Hesitating only for an instant, Fong stood up from the piano bench and followed the older man out of the living room, picking up his school bag from the floor. They stood by the closed door in silence.

After six years, Fong was now a head taller than the brunet much to the petite man's displeasure. He stared at the man before him, looking much like how he looked years ago. Before his mind could protest, he wrapped his arms around the brunet, his body moving on its own.

"Fong?"

Realizing what he's done, he immediately loosened his grip but was stopped as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his back, holding him in place.

Tsuna buried his face on the tall teen's chest, taking in his scent of freshly poured rain. He didn't know what came over him to do such a thing. They stayed in each other's embrace before the brunet pulled back, reminded of the time, and finally saw the other off. He closed the door and bolted it shut a few moments later. Silence loomed over the house. He was alone once again.

Tsuna slowly made his way back to the living room. It was so quiet, his footsteps echoed across the hall. His eyes softened as he caught sight of the grand piano. He approached it and sat down on the padded bench. He allowed his fingers to glide on the numerous ivory keys, relishing the tinkling sounds it produced. He drew a deep breath and then started to play a particularly complicated part of the Appasionata Sonata. His fingers flew in different directions; swift and bold. The room filled with music.

A jolt of pain suddenly spread throughout his hands, reaching the ends of his fingertips. The sudden sensation caused him to unintentionally slam his palm on the keys, and then the sound died off into the silence. He gripped his hands tightly, his teeth clenched. He bit his lip and held back a cry of pain. Breathing heavily, he opened both hands in front of him and stared at them.

His words earlier in the day came back to him. It's just pianist cramps. I'm fine.

He wondered if he really was fine.

There were a few minutes of silence before he started playing again. It was his favorite. The music was soft, gentle, and sounded almost like a lullaby. He played it slowly and beautifully. Though this time, the melody was laced with overflowing sadness.

A/N: Well how was it? Should I continue with it? Please tell me early on if I should. With how things are going, it might take me a while to update. Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :3

Um, about Fongs' surname. It's a play with words on my part. ^^ Fong is the storm arcobaleno. In Chinese, Tai Feng means storm, wherein Feng means wind. Feng could also be read as Fong. So more or less, that's where I got the idea for Fong's name. :D Haha, I'm not so sure about it though. XD

Note to the readers:

1) Grazioso – gracefully or with grace

2) Cantabile - "singing"; play emulating as much as possible the singing voice