[ This is a midnight fic that I spun out while rolling around in sad music. This is a song fic really to Epik High - One. Italicization represents lyrics taken from the song.

Uh I don't expect it to be too great, it was a short burst of sleepy drabbling. I wanted to write something sad-ish This is set in the period of Colonelloç—´ death and you could say its ColoLal,

I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or any of its characters

enjoyy!

/33eWFRXKEGM Epik High - One]

You wake up, eyes wide open and breath silent. A weight pushes down on you. Every single facet of your being refuses to budge, weighed down by the intangible force of memories. There is never a day where you'll be able to shake them off or a morning where reality won't take an extra second to process. Your weary eyes stay stationed on the ceiling over you because you can't find the energy to move them. It doesn't usually get this bad, but your dreams haunt your waking thoughts.

The wounds become a sickness.

You never realized how much life death brings. He's been living inside your head, in the empty spots, and the corner of your eye. Sometimes you find his name on your lips, but only quietly. It's as if you're worried that someone will hear you. Or that he'll poke his head in the doorway with a jab at your sentimentality and take apart your composure with an easy laugh. You close your eyes, willing yourself to abort this trail of thought.

No one knows the inside of your heart.

The sun hasn't risen yet, its just touched your room with the faintest light to alleviate the encompassing darkness. You need to pull yourself up now or you'll stay buried under this weight. You push your palm into the sheets and push your upper torso away from the mattress. You shove the hair lingering messily over your features back over your head and wait. If you dally, you'll miss your window of time to set off on a morning run. You need to fill your life with tasks. One after the other until everything else is suffocated in an endless cycle of doing.

The blankets fall off easy, seemingly untouched by the weight haunting you. You palm a sore neck as your feet touch the floor. You can feel time starting, like a timer being clicked, as soon as you set yourself into motion. The process of seeking out your clothes has become habitual, since you don't stray much in fashion, and it leaves room in your mind for wandering. You glance unconsciously at the mirror.

I've become an enemy in the mirror, doesn't it hurt?

You flinch and look away. You're the only one who can see it, the heavy weight that's permeated itself in you. It's apparent in your eyes and the way you carry yourself. You keep your back to the mirror and breath hard. The timer clicks slowly in your head.

Time is ticking, time time is ticking away.

You go through the motions of stretching to the ticks in your mind. Your calves produce a dull ache as your fingertips brush over your shoes. You keep numbers rolling off your tongue. You want to keep the thoughts at bay, but they come back after every breath.

The words you could have said, the words you tell yourself you would say if you had the chance.

The weight pushes down harder and you let it.

Every passing day it gets harder to ignore it.

Regret.