Dear Readers:

For those of you who have followed me and my one-shots before, thank you for taking the time to read yet another one of my stories. I know I've been inactive for many months, and yes. I was on hiatus because of a bad bout with writer's block along with other personal reasons. However, I am back now, and I hope that I'll be able to regularly post new one-shots after I spend some time re-writing my old ones. Those of you who have followed me since my first fic know that it has been a couple of days past my first year anniversary for being active as a writer on this site, and I consider this date to be a landmark that pushes for me to polish the rough gems first dug up a year ago.

For new readers, thank you for checking up on this little one-shot of mine. I've been on a break from writing for a long time, so I've enjoyed writing angst again a little too much. If you haven't read my old fics, you're not missing much-they'll be rewritten soon either way.

As with many of my oneshots, this was written for Dior Crystal's KHR Angst Writing Contest, which I was actually supposed to host, but decided not to because I just love writing angst too much to not participate! :) And as a lot of you guys know if you've read my old A/N's, this is one of my most despised pairings. A pairing that I swore I would never write. Ahh, the joys of fate. I tried my best to work around my distaste however, and I hope you guys enjoy!

Prompt: Fade

Disclaimer: "Katekyo Hitman Reborn!"'s characters, plot, and all other affiliates of the manga and anime belong to Amino Akira, meaning it does not belong to me whatsoever. I own solely this piece of literature, and thus I would also appreciate it if fellow authors and writers do not steal any of my work. Thank you.

Just a Little Late

An EnmaxTsuna fic

Note that this is indeed a semi-AU, in which Enma has an older twin brother and Tsuna grows up in the main HQ, where his family is a lot colder and harsher than in the canon series.

Tsuna. A name that wasn't too rare, but wasn't overused as well. At times, I wondered if my mother knew what kind of person I'd be when she named me. After all, I was someone who had little to no skill in anything. I was the epitome of mediocrity, but the shoes I had to fill were larger than anyone else had to fill. The pressure got to me, of course, and eventually I started to take "trips" out of the main headquarters. Trips that would last for days, sometimes even weeks. Every time, I walked aimlessly, looking in vain for an escape, any escape.

Eventually, I found the refuge that I so desperately needed in a small, relatively unvisited park. It took twenty minutes to walk, fifteen minutes to run, and ten minutes to bike, but it was my own little corner of the world. What made me always come back to this place though, was a boy. A boy my own age, with hair the color of dying embers and eyes like molten lead.

He had told me that his name was more than just what people called him—it was what he was. As the younger, less capable child of the household, he was meant to be nothing more than a shadow for his older twin. He was to be someone who could protect his brother, and eventually get shot in his brother's place. He was to be a living corpse.

Though I always think back to the park as my haven, the truth was that he was my sanctuary. Admist the dark world we both lived in, he was the piece of sun that fell from the sky to save me from the family that was slowly suffocating me. He was my lifeline. From the hot summer days where we could lie in the shade without a care in the world to the chilly days when we'd risk getting sick by playing in the sand...had I been forced to choose between heaven and that park—the park where the boy resided—I would have picked the park without a second thought.

But somehow, someway, all good things manage to find a way to come to an end. On a day that was chilly but not too cold, I ran towards the oak where we usually meet, only to find nothing. No bright smile eagerly waiting for me. No mop of hair the color of rust toussled by the wind.

The second day, I ran yet again towards the huge tree. There was nobody. I started to feel a sinking feeling in my chest.

The tenth day. Again, I walked there, determined and hopeful. And again, I was greeted by nothing more than the towering, dark tree that stood by itself.

Enma. From that one day onwards, the meaning of that single word had become synonymous with our relationship. Enma. Zero. Nothing. One day he was there, playing in the sandbox beside me, and the next... he was gone. And with him left an infathomable gap in my daily life. The hours we spent on the swings, talking to each other about anything that came to our minds. The days we spent on the roof, staring at the clouds. The times we sat together and cried, because that was the only way we knew how to cope. All of these, along with him, were gone.

And in due time, the memories of what had been one of the happiest periods of my life faded as well. Despite thinking of him for hours and hours and waiting for him in that little park where we met, he never came back. But I waited. And waited. Always next to the large oak where we sat underneath, enjoying the shade during the summer days. Always staring at the swings, which were now old and rusted with age.

I don't remember the day I stopped going to the tree.

My mother and father soon moved away, away from the clutches of the headquarters to the peaceful and quiet country of Japan. And there, I began to live the life of a normal adolescent. As I started attending school and worrying about grades rather than worrying about killing someone, I had at some point justified leaving the little park behind, and with it, him.

As the alarm clock rang for the umpteenth time, I slowly rose from my unkempt bed. Ready for another day at the high school I now went to, I suddenly remembered with a burst of panic the unfinished report that was to be turned in that day. I quickly started out for school with a piece of toast in my mouth and my report in hand, ready to write while walking.

It was still dark outside, a factor that resulted from the short periods of daylight during winter and my own leaving hours before school started. I blamed my own upbringing for being so used to waking up in the first moments of dawn. And as I shivered from the cold, I suddenly heard footsteps walking toward me and looked up curiously. Who would be walking out at a time like this?

All the papers in my hand fell, fluttering towards the asphalt sidewalk like snow. My knees weak and trembling, I rose my hand slowly, wanting to touch the person in front of me but hesitating. "I-Is...Is that really you? Where have you been all this time? I've been looking for you..." I asked, my voice shaky with disbelief. "Enma."

He was staring at the pavement, so I couldn't see his face. But that mop of hair...those strands of vibrant poppy fields mixed with cornstalk. It was him. I knew, from the way he paused in his stroll in front of me. But then he raised his head slowly, and the stare he gave me was one that sent chills down to my bone and froze me to the core. No words were spoken aloud, but I heard everything he said in his eyes. I could hear all the hate he harbored towards the world— towards me.

"Where were you?"

And with those three words, the questions that I had asked as I waited underneath that tree all those years back were answered. I realized then, when tears started to well up in my eyes as I only started to understand what had happened in these last years. That I had no right to claim that he had abandoned me that day, because in reality...

It was I who had left him.

Where had I been? When he was drowning in all the hate and all the blood that was so much worse than the situation I was in...I was the only one who could have saved him. I had been so caught up in relying on him as my lifeline that I never even once considered that I was his lifeline just as well. The days after he had disappeared...I always sat there and waited for him to come back, but I never stood up and looked for him. I had always simply sat there and waited for the piece of sunshine that I had loved so much to come back to me, but I never realized that maybe, just maybe, he was sitting somewhere waiting for me too.

He had waited for me. And I never came.

"Where were you? When I lost everything I ever had, when I was lying on the floor not knowing whether or not I'd live till the next day, where were you? I waited for you, with bloody knuckles and a body ridden with bruises and barely healing wounds, but you never came." His face was distorted with bitterness, his body trembling.

"I waited. I always remembered when we laughed together under the sun, and I believed that you would come and save me. But you never came."

"And now, look at me!" He slammed his palm to his chest, his voice cracking. And I could only watch through eyes filled with remorse as he refused to break down despite the overwhelming emotion we shared. Even now, he refused to ignore his training and show weakness.

"What am I? Nothing. I'm not human. I'm not alive. All I am now..is a killing machine. Because of you. Because even though I always waited for you, you never came. And now, I am nothing. I don't exist . Just as how a tree falling in a forest only makes a sound if there's somebody listening, a person only exists as long as there are people who acknowledge their lives, and-"

"You do exist!"

I ran forward, wrapping my arms around his shaking torso. As I held his fragile body and soul in my arms, I continued talking as tears of regret ran down my face.

"You exist, because I care about you. You're everything to me. I believe in you! So please..." As my fingers clenched into his back, I felt a drop of salty water on my shoulder, where his head rested in my embrace.

"Please don't say something like "I'm not human" to me...because to me, you're the only human on this planet that matters."

And we sat there, under the yellow streetlights and barely peaking sun. We sat there, and cried our hearts out, the tears running hard and fast down our cheeks. We cried not for ourselves, but for each other. We cried for the days, weeks, years that we lost. We cried for the park and everything it stood for that was lost forever in the passages of time, that we would never be able to go back to. And we sat there and cried not unlike when we were seven years old and under the oak tree yet again.

Based loosely off the song "You Found Me" by the Fray.

Also inspired by "Rolling Girl" sung by Hatsune Miku, Undisclosed Desires by Muse, and Mark Twain. YES, I SAID MARK TWAIN. /headdesk