notes: This is directly inspired by bells-mannequin, therefore, most of the credit for this goes to her. Had it not been for her 8086 drabble titled, "Confessions, Murmured", I never would've been able to write this, and finish it. She got me out of my writer's block, and rekindled my love for 2786 (though I really, really, really wanted to write some 1827...). I own nothing (characters, anime, layout, etc.).
oh blooming wildflower
the sun kisses you every morning you wake.
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red, orange
(Tsunayoshi)
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"Tsuna-san."
It's a quaint, endearing breath of a measure—it always holds the same gentleness, softness, and warmth whenever she speaks it—one that raises the brunet's tired eyes from the mahogany desk settled under him, holds the sides of his face in feather-light fingers, one that kisses his exhausted lips with hues of the lambent autumn leaves singing beside his window. She's there, her thick, dark chocolate hair loose and wavy against her back—it's longer now than it was when he'd last seen it—her curves rounder and softer, her lips strawberry-hued and as kissable as always.
She's still Miura Haru: softened grin, bright eyes, light, airy scent flowing through the air about her. She's grown in the time they've spent apart. He sees it in the way she carries herself, the way she holds her sketchbooks in her arms, the way the hem of her skirt falls against pale, bare legs, the way her lips part as she glances over at him from where she stands beside a docile skylark, who—in Tsunayoshi's opinion—is just as allured by Haru's new appearance as Tsunayoshi himself is. Hibari's not tense, his eyes are closed, but wide open, and even though his arms are crossed and he's braced against the wall, Tsunayoshi knows he's merely drifting in the presence that is miura haru.
He can imagine what Bianchi would say to him in regards to Haru—"She's not a bud anymore, Tsuna. She's grown into a beautiful, beautiful flower."—and barely resists the urge to tell her so. He's not articulate, he's clumsy, trips over his words, but he's every bit as passionate as the young woman standing in front of him, holding him still as she leans toward him, locks of her dark hair sliding over her shoulders as she bends over, her scent billowing into his breathing space as she keeps his breath at a pause.
"It's been a while, Tsuna-san. How are you?" Even her voice is as angelic as her appearance. He could smell her scent of wildflowers and spring, and haru. She's so different now—it's been forever since he's seen her—but still the same, still as bubbly and spirited as ever. He almost doesn't know how to answer her.
"I've been well." I've been well. That sounds so pathetic in comparison to something else he could say. Tsunayoshi sighs, "How about you?"
She doesn't seem bored. Much to his shock. He knows Hibari would be—the skylark's twitching his left eyebrow from where he stands against the wall, as if sensing Tsunayoshi's frustration at his inability to speak eloquently, as Reborn would say—can tell that in his silence, the Cloud Guardian's already tuning him out. He doesn't know what else to ask her: what are you doing here, why now, what's going on in Namimori (that would pique Hibari's interest in a split second, maybe even entice a less favorable response out of him, depending on her answer). He's never been this bad when it comes to communication.
Of course, Reborn would beg to differ: "Pull your feelings out of your ass and just tell me, for God's sake."
Haru's face is centimeters from his, too close, too close, too close: "I missed you. And the others too, so I decided to visit."
"And you brought your sketchbooks?"
"Yes!" she chirps, tightening her grip on them in her arms.
There are flowery covers, all sweetly scented of something reminiscent to the garden behind the Vongola Mansion, or, Hibari's favorite hiding place when he's bored with his office or needs some fresh air to clear idiots out of his system. Tsunayoshi knows this simply because he's followed Hibari out of the mansion a few times for the same reasons. Silence makes for good bonding time, as he found out. She holds out the sketchbooks, drawing his attention again, before allowing him to take them and flip through.
There are pictures of all of them: Hayato fighting with Uri, Takeshi practicing his sword techniques, Ryohei sparring with his box weapon, Lambo chasing I-pin around the mansion's game room, Hibari snoozing on the roof with Roll and Hibird dozing not too far away. Then, there's Tsunayoshi himself, his lips curved into a gentle, soft smile, with sparks of flame smoldering at the center of his forehead. He remembers the sweatshirt he's wearing in the picture; he remembers the scenery sprawling behind him. He remembers all of it, and flips to the front cover, searching for words, descriptions, something to confirm his thoughts.
He finds kanji, written with swirls of flowers and leaves, reading, "We'll fade away, just like our happiness in that future."
Haru's cinnamon-hued eyes begin to close. Tsunayoshi glances up at her, his heart racing in his chest. He notices Hibari's eyes slide open, revealing the most melancholic look Tsunayoshi's ever seen on the man's face. Tsunayoshi closes his caramel eyes briefly, pulling his emotions in, reining his heart back, knowing that, despite the fact that Kyouko and Haru are as close to him as Hibari's become—in a strange, distant sort of way—there's no possibility that they would be able to find out when Vongola's in danger again. Everything's peaceful, so he doesn't understand why Haru would show him her sketches.
"Haru," he starts, flipping back to the page with the drawing of him smiling at her, "why did you—"
"—Because I miss that Tsuna-san," she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. "I miss that smile, that face, those flames. Reborn-chan called me because he thinks that you're in need of a break."
"But—"
"—No buts!" she says, slamming her palms down on the desktop. "Hibari-san's supposed to supervise us though, because if you don't do exactly as I tell you, he has license to bite you to death, as he likes to say. And, I won't stop him."
"I think you're forgetting something, Haru," Tsunayoshi answers, glancing over at Hibari to include him in the conversation—though he knows the skylark couldn't care less about Tsunayoshi and Haru's conversation—before adding, "I'm the boss of the Vongola Family. I can't take breaks."
"Which is exactly why I've put Reborn-chan in charge for the week."
The stupid, stupid, stupid infant.
"I have no intention of watching over you herbivores," Hibari puts in, turning to open the door. "I'll be in my office if you require my assistance, Sawada Tsunayoshi."
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Hibari-san. "Of course. I'll call you if I need you."
"But, Hibari-san!" Haru protests, turning to the raven-haired skylark. He simply shuts the door behind him, ignoring her argument entirely. "Well, that's not good. Now I'll have to scold you myself."
"You can't scold me, Haru."
Haru sighs. "But, anyway, I'm here to give some fresh air to breathe, Tsuna-san. Something's weighing down on your mind, and even though I know it's got something to do with the Mafia, it doesn't mean that I can't help ease you through it, alright?"
Though it's almost impossible, he can see her point, and doesn't argue with her. "Fine."
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yellow, green
(Haru)
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Initially, it's difficult—Haru expects him to be stubborn, knowing Sawada Tsunayoshi almost as well as the back of her slender, pale hands, but this is ridiculous—to have Tsunayoshi to loosen up. She tries baking cakes, the most mundane of tasks, but also the most routine, hoping that by falling into a pattern will help him relax and relieve some of the stress she sees bunching about his shoulders ("It's there, Haru, and I need you to get rid of it," Reborn had said to Haru over the phone, "it's something that only a woman can do."). Though she's still puzzled by Reborn's request—what's this woman thing business anyway?—in typical Haru fashion, she hides her confusion with a smile, a smile that, though not practiced nor picture-perfect, is solid enough to fool the brunet fumbling around the kitchen.
Well, almost solid enough. He's staring at her now like she's grown three to four heads.
"Haru, what do I do after I put it in the oven?" Tsunayoshi asks, glancing at her with a timid expression that reminds her of those times in the future—those times she misses, those smiles, those laughs, those moments of closeness with Tsunayoshi. Those moments that fade from her memories as each day passes. She can't let them go—she refuses to let them go—but she has no choice. "Haru?"
"Oh!" She blinks back to herself, and shifts from the counter, walking toward him with a spring in her step. "Well, you can clean up this counter while I clean up the other one, if you'd like?"
"Huh?"
Haru sighs, "There's nothing else you have to do once you put it into the oven, Tsuna-san. You just let it bake."
Just how uneducated is he?
(She supposes that because it's not battle strategy or fighting capability he's faced with, that she should cut him some slack.)
(Just a little slack—he should know how to bake a cake; his mother bakes them every day for Lambo and I-pin whenever they visit Namimori.)
"Haru, what's the true reason why you're here?" She flashes her eyes over to the brunet, surprised, shocked, and maybe a little scared. She knows there's nothing for her to be afraid of, nothing to be scared about, but she can't help but shrink into herself just a little bit. It's instinctive for girls to protect their hearts and virtues, isn't it? "I know it's not just because you want to help me."
"But that's why I'm here, Tsuna-san, Reborn-chan asked me to give you some fresh air—"
"—You can't lie to me, Haru." His tone is soft, gentle, but a bit accusing. She doesn't move for a moment.
"I missed you," she says simply.
He pauses for a moment.
Just a moment.
And it's a quiet, silent, drawn-out moment, one that puts Haru's heart into a frenzy, keeps her blood trembling under the surface of her skin. She's not sure if her feminine sensibilities will hold out if Tsunayoshi stays silent like he is, staring at her with those soft, light brown eyes. She's missed those eyes—their hue, their fragile surfaces, their gentleness—she's missed him. She's not lying; she's truly missed him with everything that makes her whole.
And after another hundred heartbeats, Tsunayoshi says, "I see."
She sighs, releasing her heart in the process. This action isn't missed by Tsunayoshi, because even though he kneels down to check the status of the cake, she knows that he's watching her out of the corner of his eye, noting every move she makes. She knows she has nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be afraid of, nothing, nothing at all to hide, but the intensity of his irises now is nothing compared to the one she draws over and over again in her sketches, as well as her mind.
"Is it done?" he asks, closing his eyes briefly.
"We just put the cake in to bake two minutes ago, Tsuna-san. It doesn't bake that quickly."
Tsunayoshi sighs, and touches his back to the counter behind him. "How long will it take? I have a meeting in an hour."
"I told you, Reborn-chan's taking care of the Vongola for the week, remember? You're on vacation—my orders," she retorts, crossing the kitchen, and breaching his breathing space. He simply opens his eyes, and gazes back at her—it's a blank, emotionless, Hibari-like stare—his irises tired, his face worn. She understands why Reborn called her in a heartbeat. "Tsuna-san, are you… lonely?"
His eyes close, "Haru."
"No, this is a serious question, Tsuna-san! You can't live without love," she protests, reaching her hands up to hold his face, but thinks better of it. "I know that the thought of loving someone else scares you. I know that being betrayed again scares you even more. But, that's no reason not to trust another woman again."
"Kyouko didn't betray me," he whispers, his eyes half-lidded now, though distant, and far away. "She did what she thought was best for her."
She left the Vongola.
"But Tsuna-san," Haru murmurs, the urge to embrace, touch, kiss, something, running through her. "You can't give up."
"I'm not giving up." He faces her directly, his auburn bangs hanging into his exhausted eyes. "I'm moving on. I have more important things to worry about than loving someone, Haru. I'm the boss of the Vongola Family. The world needs me to be focused."
Her voice rises—it's self-defeated.
"I'll have a piece of your cake when it's done, Haru," Tsunayoshi says, putting his hands on her sides to gently move her out of his way. "I have to go to a meeting."
"Okay," she croaks, listening to his footsteps touch the hardwood floor behind her.
Okay.
Where can she go from here?
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blue, indigo, violet
(words meet heartbeats)
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It couldn't have been more obvious that he's avoiding being alone with her. It couldn't have been more obvious to the whole Vongola Family that—considering Tsunayoshi's inexperience with women, and Haru's fiery spirit—they need time to sort this matter out: alone.
"Juudaime, this is for your own good!" That's Hayato, he's dragging Tsunayoshi down to the kitchen—why's he dragging Tsunayoshi to the kitchen of all places? Haru practically lives there—with a hand gripping his arm.
"Please, help Bossu." Chrome's taking the more gentler approach, one that's always won Haru over no matter how hard she tries to resist.
And after depositing their respective idiots into the designated drop zone, the Guardians turn around, and shut the door behind them.
It isn't locked.
—
What can I do? She asks herself. What can I do, what can I do, what can I do.
It's a frantic mantra in her head—endlessly spinning like a broken record.
She can't bring herself to look at him—his eyes, his face, his hands, his… everything—she can't bring herself to think about the broken heart he's hiding from her, that he's hiding from everyone. She can't bear to think about the tears he cries every night, the pain he's shouldering with the duties weighing him down. She can't bring herself to acknowledge that this is what's become of her Tsuna-san, her smiling, happy, breathless Tsuna-san.
She couldn't believe that that boy in her drawing's no longer whole—he's destroyed.
Haru bites her bottom lip as Tsunayoshi props himself up against a counter, his hands in his pockets, his eyes closed, his heart averted from her gaze. He's shutting her out, hiding himself from any help she can possibly give him, and she knows this. She knows this, but she can't give up. She wasn't lying before; she wants her Tsuna-san back.
But how is she supposed to heal his broken heart?
She wonders if Kyouko knows just how badly she'd hurt him when she'd made her decision. She wonders if the girl ever sits at her window side, gazing up at the stars and pictures what would've happened had she stayed in the Vongola, had she stuck with Tsunayoshi through thick and thin, instead of leaving when times got rough. She knows that Kyouko never intended to hurt Tsunayoshi—it was simply inevitable—but she can't help but feel… angry.
Angry at Kyouko. Angry at Tsunayoshi. Angry at herself for not realizing Tsunayoshi's pain when he'd visited Namimori last summer, for not coming to visit the Vongola Mansion more often, for not being the Miura Haru she knows he needed—needs. She's angry at everything, and clenches her right hand into a tight, tense fist at her side.
There's nothing she can do, unless Tsunayoshi's willing to let her try.
There's nothing she can do, unless she's willing to open herself to him.
Unless she's willing to leave herself vulnerable—she's not sure he'll appreciate the gesture.
—
"I don't want to talk about it," Tsunayoshi says, breaking the silence.
She hears him clear as day, though she doesn't want to believe that he means what he's saying. She doesn't want to believe that he thinks that ignoring the pain he feels is the answer, that he thinks that by letting it go, it'll ease the hurt inside. He can't believe it. He can't mean it. He just can't.
"But, how can I help you if you shut me out?" she asks helplessly, turning toward him. His closed eyes narrow, tighter, closer, fiercer. She knows it's a silent warning, something to ward her off—something he learned from Hibari. "Don't do this."
"Don't do what, Haru?" She stops where she stands. His caramel eyes are blazing, amber, fiery auburn like the flames he wields with his hands. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it with anyone."
His voice is clear, sharp, and deadly. She knows he's not intending to hurt her—not like Kyouko hurt him—not intending to send her out of the kitchen with a tongue lashing she'll never forget, that he simply wants her to drop the subject. But she can't drop the subject. This is her friend, her first love, her reason for being standing in front of her, injured and barely breathing. She can't let this go—he has to understand that.
Maybe she needs to make him understand that.
It's certainly in her power to do so. She's a girl, first off, he wouldn't ever move to harm her intentionally, no matter how angry he gets. Tsunayoshi's not Hibari—he's kinder, more benevolent, more compassionate and warm compared to the brooding, raven-haired skylark. He's not Hibari, and Hibari isn't Tsunayoshi. But since when was he allowed to push a blade into her chest with his words, and words alone?
"I can't believe you," she says.
And as if on cue, the rain begins falling.
—
I can't believe you.
I can't believe you.
I can't believe you.
I can't believe you.
I can't believe you.
And despite his best intentions—what he wanted didn't even play a part—he explodes on a universal scale.
(Not even the sky can contain the earth's anger when it's provoked.)
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"Don't believe me—I can handle this myself."
—
She doesn't understand how stupid he can get.
His ignorance knows no bounds, it's almost limitless, it's almost blinding how ignorant and stupid he is. Haru's about to whip her tongue, lash it against his unyielding stare. She's about to break down and throw herself into his arms, cry into his shirt, burying her heart into his sleeve. She knows he wouldn't push her away if she seeks comfort from him. She knows he's not the type to deny her—anyone—comfort and stability.
But he's not stable himself. He's hiding behind the mask he created from Hibari's presence.
He's hiding behind Hibari.
He's hiding behind a broken, lonely, starving creature.
Now, how is she supposed to convince him of that? How is she supposed to convince him of anything? It's almost impossible, in her opinion, since Reborn wasn't able to get through. If Reborn isn't able to get through, she doesn't stand a chance against the wall he's put between them. She knows she doesn't stand a chance, but she also knows that she has to try. Just try, that's all she's asking herself.
So, she puts her right hand over her heart—as if the gesture alone will be enough to protect her from his anger and responses—and takes a deep breath to steady herself. She's got to try; she's got to try to get through to him. There's only one way she can get through to him, and that's to put herself on the line. She knows she has to show him how important he is.
She lifts her voice: "Why are you doing this? Why?"
Inside, she knows why. She knows why he's cutting himself off from all sources of comfort, why he's so intent on dealing with this by himself, why he doesn't want to show weakness to her. She knows, but she doesn't believe it.
"I don't have to tell you, Haru," he replies, taking his guarded, cautious tone that he usually reserves for dealing with prickly people, like Hayato or Hibari.
She says the only thing she can think of to keep this conversation going. "Why are you so reliant on Hibari-san?"
This surprises him.
"I'm not reliant on him," Tsunayoshi argues, his caramel eyes downcast. "He's just… It's easier to cope with him around. He doesn't ask questions. He doesn't pry. He's quiet—like a breath of fresh air."
"Maybe he's the wrong kind of fresh air, Tsuna-san," Haru answers, her tone soft. Tsunayoshi's irises flick to her chocolate ones, prompting her to continue. "You don't need silence, you don't need quiet. You need to talk to someone, anyone. You can't get over a broken heart by bottling it all up inside. It doesn't work that way."
He considers her words, and for a moment, she thinks she's gotten through to him. But when he opens his mouth again, she knows it's not the case. It's not even close to what she'd hoped for. She hasn't made a dent.
"I can't talk to anyone about this," Tsunayoshi replies, hanging his head, "I should've known better. This is my fault, Haru. I brought this on myself. I should've known that she wouldn't be able to handle it."
So it is Kyouko that's bothering him. "It's not your fault, Tsuna-san," Haru soothes, taking a few steps toward him. He doesn't move, doesn't raise his head, doesn't look at her. "You asked her to be with you, didn't you? There's nothing wrong with believing in someone and wanting to keep them. There's nothing wrong with it at all. Don't blame yourself."
When he speaks next, she almost doesn't hear him.
"Why are you so intent on helping me?" he asks.
And Haru, allowing her heart to jump to her lips, says, "Because I care about you. I need you to be the smiling, happy, breathless Tsuna-san I fell in love with. I realize that it's none of my business what happened between you and Kyouko-chan, but you can't expect me to sit on the sidelines and watch you tear yourself apart over something that isn't your fault. That's not something I can do. I want to help you, Tsuna-san. I want to believe in you. I want you to believe in me, and how much I care about you."
"You know I trust you," he replies, raising his amber eyes to hers, "you know I care about you."
Haru's lips curve upward slightly. "And?"
"But I can't talk about it. There's just—"
"—No words?" she offers. "No words to describe the pain of heartbreak, of being the one left behind. Of being the one out of the two that wasn't chosen. I know how that feels, Tsuna-san. I know exactly how it feels, and I can't deny that it's painful. But you can't give up. You have to keep fighting. You have to get back on your feet and live through it—that's what life is."
"I can't let it go." His voice is shaking.
"Put your faith in me," she answers, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. His head drops to her shoulder, his eyes flashing toward hers. Though he's surprised, he doesn't resist her hold. "That's all I'm asking. I can help—I know how you feel. I know how much it hurts. But I can help."
There's silence between them for a few moments, before he pulls his face back. She watches something wet glisten at the corners of his eyes, and catches her breath, before, though silently, Tsunayoshi's rain begins falling, melding with hers.
"Thank you," Tsunayoshi whispers.
Haru smiles through her tears, "Isn't this what they call loving somebody?"
She leans closer—feels his breath on her face, hears her heart stutter in her chest—and kisses him. He tastes of green tea, and mint, and softness and Tsuna-san—the only thing she can do is memorize the feel of his lips on hers, the touch of his hands on her sides, the taste of the rain on his lips. When they part, he leans his forehead against hers.
She smiles against his face, his closed eyelids, his everything, and whispers, "Don't let go of my hand, okay?"
—
When Tsunayoshi walks out of the kitchen, with Haru at his side, Hibari's—though, he's not certain as to why he's here, crowding with the rest of the herbivores—the first to notice their entwined fingers.
And though he knows he doesn't have the capacity to feel emotions, or anything that suggests weakness of the heart, he can't help but smile.
The herbivore's gotten his fire back.
—
(Looks like Hibari's going to get lucky today—Tsunayoshi's in the sparring mood.)
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end.
notes: I hope you all enjoyed this. I encourage you all to read bells-mannequin's 8086 drabbles—you won't be disappointed, trust me!