Name: Black Keys
Rating: T (for now)
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, friendship, family, (humor because I can never avoid it in my stories), fluff
Pairing: G27
Warnings: I don't know what happens yet but be prepared for some blood, bad dreams, death, bullying and dark places (why do I always write everything angsty?). And what comes to sex… don't know yet :D
Disclaimer: Don't own KHR and never will. The plot (if there's one) is mine though.
Summary: He hit the glass, he yelled for help, he pegged, he gave up. He was trapped, the glass didn't break. Then one day his eyes landed on a small, thin brunet on the other side. He was the only one who could see him, his only hope. But the eyes were empty and no matter how many times he tried to talk to him, all he got was, "Go away, you're not real!" and Giotto was left alone into the darkness. G27, AU, Tsuna not a boss
A/N: Yo, not sure if it's okay to publish this yet since I have so many fics unfinished. But I couldn't resist! Originally this chapter was about 8k but decided to cut in the middle because, well, 14 pages for the first chapter sounded too long. And it means now I have two more chapters ready to be published! So, Tsuna's not a boss (and I don't know if he'll be or not) and this is indeed yaoi or at least shounen-ai. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
First there was a shock.
When Giotto opened his eyes for the first time to the new day, expecting to find the usual ceiling of his room, he only found darkness. He'd stared at it, that deep dark that seemed to be endless, feeling something close to panic making its appearance into his stomach. Then he'd sat up and expected to see something else, an enemy maybe, but only thing that had stared him back was still the same black space. Nothing moved, nothing didn't even seem to mock him. The dark sky or whatever it was just was there, simply existing.
Giotto fought back the urge to breathe heavily, the adrenaline which told him to run or fight. There was nothing to fight against and especially nowhere to run. It was just dark.
Calm down, calm down, Giotto repeated to himself, willing himself to consider his situation calmly. He stared one point in the distance which looked like everything else around him and listed things he knew in his mind. He was the mafia boss of a quite new family. He was already over twenty years old. Hell, he was a man. He didn't panic headlessly and jump into conclusions even though it seemed he was in a room or some kind of space which didn't have a roof, floor or even walls. When he looked down, he couldn't see himself either. The darkness had swallowed him so greatly that he had even started to think he'd become blind.
Maybe he was blind.
His hyper intuition told otherwise. His intuition told him that there was no enemy around either so he was safe for now. The intuition told him also that there was absolutely nothing. No way to escape, no way to see himself, no way to go back.
It was a hopeless situation.
When Giotto had sat there god knows how long he'd started to abandon his calm. Not on purpose, no, he was usually a level-headed man who'd faced many dangerous enemies and came out alive. He'd beat feared and strong mafia famiglie and won. But he'd never been in a situation where he was in a place with nothing or no one around, with only his thoughts as a company.
That was when he'd started to think too much and finally lost it.
Giotto jumped up and started to pace around the area, trying to find something. He refused to believe there was no hope. There was always hope. Right?
He couldn't see where he was going but why would he need to see. There was nothing he'd run into nor anything he'd trip to. Where did he need his eyes when everything was same, dull scenery?
It was absolutely the worst! Giotto refused to believe it. He had to get back. He had a family to take care of. He was already thinking how G would just blow the place up instead of leading it smoothly. He trusted his right hand man, alright, but the man was really temperamental especially when his other family members weren't little angles either. On the contrary, actually. Lampo would just throw trash everywhere and decline to do his job, Daemon and Alaude would fight each other and end up destroying the whole manor, Knuckle and Asari though wouldn't cause trouble but they couldn't stop it from happening either.
Then they'd start searching for him and without clues too. They'd look for him without breaks, without stopping to eat or sleep and then when they couldn't find him they'd just collapse and die off. It'd be all Giotto's fault.
The blond man shook his head. He was thinking too much, again. It was one of his demerits: he always started to think the worst. Usually he was able to avoid that, nowadays at least, but it was all thanks to his dear friends. Without them he started to worry too much and lost a sight of reality. Giotto finally stopped running around because it didn't help a thing and closed his eyes. Not that it mattered whether or not they were open but at least the thought that he was still able to control something, see something, calmed him down. He pictured his family in his mind, every single detail of them that he knew very well, and finally felt calmness wash over him.
He was still alive and he was definitely somewhere so there'd be a way out too. He'd arrived there some way too, right? So there had to be a way out.
The last thing he remembered doing was to go to sleep. After that, nothing. Had someone moved him while he was asleep? No, he'd have woken up or one of his guardians would have. So had someone drugged him? It was a possibility but highly unlikely. The person should have drugged others in the huge mansion too and that would have been a simple suicide. Then his dreams? Did this all happen inside his head? Was it doings of a mist user? No, Daemon would have been able to detect any kind of mist using. He was one of the best illusionists after all and Giotto trusted him with his whole heart.
So where was he and why?
For a moment he thought about voicing the question out loud but then decided against it. Seriously, that would have sounded a little crazy and he wished to believe he was still very sane, thank you. He refused to believe his mental state had started to waver as well as he denied many other things considering the absurd situation.
Just when Giotto was about to start moving again, trying to find something else but darkness, he indeed found something. Or rather something found him, materializing itself to his left, to his right, front, back and above. Giotto spun around looking at flashes of light that surrounded him, taking a fighting stance. He tried his pockets but couldn't find his gloves. Vongola ring he had but any kind of weapon was gone. His eyes widened. He tensed, ready to still enter his dying will mode even if he knew his flames would burn his hands without gloves. He couldn't die now, no matter what kind of enemy flashed like some supernatural being.
Flashing continued for a while, making Giotto blind after a long, thick darkness. He tried to keep his eyes open, to see what happened, but eventually the light won and he had no choice but close his eyes. It didn't help much but when the bright white lights stopped drilling through his eyelids he opened his eyes immediately and gasped.
There were windows. Everywhere. Every size and shape, showing him different sceneries even though they were situated close to each other and thus should have shown him almost same view. For a while the blond man couldn't do a thing, didn't want to do anything else but stare, mouth hanging open. What was going on here? Where had those windows come from and why? Why was he even there?
But no matter how much Giotto tried to judge the windows, he couldn't stop a small hope from forming in his chest. There were windows which meant he'd be able to get out if he broke one. There was a way out. The man felt his lips tugging up, his heart leapt. A way out, huh?
He walked towards one of the windows, looking out only to see something strange. He wondered how he registered the oddness only now but passed it as an aftermath of shock and dark. Usually, when someone looked out of a window from inside – where Giotto thought he was – he saw grass or sky or other buildings. But he didn't see those in these windows. He saw his own manor from inside. Vongola manor from angles he didn't even know had windows before.
Giotto observed the view critically, feeling confused. That hadn't been the only weird thing about the scenery. There was no one moving around and the place was dark, maybe it was still night and Giotto hadn't actually woken up because it was morning. But that wasn't really the weirdest thing: it was the fact that the furniture, the painting of the walls, some objects were different. They weren't the ones Giotto's used to. He walked around the black room, searching one place with his sharp eyes and when he found it, he let out another gasp. It was his room, or what he thought was his bedroom.
The walls weren't the same light beige he was used to but beautiful red with golden pattern. The bed was different too and he noticed someone was laying in it. Somehow Giotto just knew it wasn't him or one of his guardians. Who the man that slept in his room was, he didn't know but he'd find out. He let his eyes narrow feeling threatened. Someone had taken over his home and changed it how he pleased. Then he had also probably captivated Giotto in that hellish place without any light. Which was weird now that he thought about it. Even though he had dozens of windows around him, none of them let any light pass to the darkness. It really was like the dark in the place was cursed, sucking every ounce of light that tried to enter it. Sucking away all the positive thoughts and hope.
There was no way out.
Giotto jumped at his own thoughts. What was he thinking about? Of course there was a way out and he'd show that bastard who had done this what happened to those who messed with his family. With new resolution Giotto moved to the window which opened a scenery to one of his empty rooms so he wouldn't wake anyone up and try to imprison him before he was ready to fight, and so he started banging the window with his elbow.
It didn't budge, there wasn't even a crack after one very sharp hit Giotto had given it. Nothing at all. It didn't even make a noise.
Gulping, Giotto backed away and calmed himself down. He was once again prone to panic but that wouldn't help a thing. He had to stay calm and get out. After all the time he'd already spent there in the middle of nothing he finally started to feel the weight of the place and situation. If it was possible for the darkness to fall over, it'd feel like this. Utter hopelessness and helplessness.
Giotto hated that feeling. He would be able to get out. He had to and he would.
Once again the man rose his elbow and ran against the glass, he was readying himself for a fall after crashing through the glass but it never came. Neither did the impact. Yes, he did feel that something made contact with his elbow but that was it. The end of the story. No pain, no blood, nothing.
Giotto panted, not because of exercise but because of the revelation. He wasn't hurt. Why wasn't he hurt? Why did the window look still like nothing had happened? He rolled his sleeve up and looked. Nothing. Not even a hint of a forming bruise. What the hell?
Giotto stared at his arm with wide eyes. What? He couldn't think straight and didn't even try. His plan had failed. His arm was okay. He wasn't hurt at all. Then the crazy idea, the first but not the last in that cursed place, entered the man's mind. If the situation had been any more normal he'd have been shocked of his own thoughts. Really? Self-harming? He was really losing it, wasn't he?
But he was curious and he had to find out. Biting his lip, Giotto pushed his nails into his skin and drew. What he supposed should have been painful didn't feel anything but a small tickle. There wasn't even a scratch on his arm. He laughed once. Then twice until he laughed really hard. He didn't quite know why but, just think about it, the situation was so mad. There he was, the great boss of Vongola famiglia, trying to draw out his own blood which many enemies wanted but couldn't get and now it seemed even he himself couldn't get it.
And if he couldn't hurt himself, didn't that mean he couldn't kill himself either?
Giotto stopped laughing, not feeling amused at all. He couldn't die. He was cursed to stay in this place forever without any way to escape. Not even death. Eventually, he'd either die mentally because of boredom or yearning for his family. And only things to keep him company were the bastards that had taken over his home. His!
No, he wouldn't give up there. Not yet. Not ever! Giotto stood up, glaring at the glass like it'd give in under his cold stare. Then the flames appeared into his forehead and hands, his eyes turned into burned orange like the sky in sunset. Giotto breathed in and out, took a better stance and charged. With his dying will he tried to break the damn glass that was the only thing in the middle of him and his loved ones. He hit and hit and hit, orange flames burning brightly in the dark actually casting little light. The boss' light was too pure to the soiled darkness and it had to give way.
But not completely. After a while when Giotto was already dripping sweat onto his black suit and his bangs glued themselves on his forehead he let his fire die down. Nothing. Nothing. Not even a crack. Giotto panted, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to yell. He wanted to south in frustration. Nothing was more frustrating than the fact that something was in front of you but you couldn't get it. It was hopeless. He clenched his fist and flinched, quickly opening his palm and looking down.
His hand was burnt. The blond's eyes widened, tears threatening to force their way out. Why were his hands burnt when he couldn't hurt himself just a while ago? Was it because it was his dying will flame which was much more powerful than normal fire? He examined his scarred palm and wondered when it'd heal. Still, somehow, he felt himself relax. The fact that he could hurt himself made him feel under control. It was ridiculous, it was scary but it was true. The burn marks proved he was still alive and there was a way for him to be in control of his own life. He could die whenever he wanted.
Did he want to die? Burning alive wouldn't be pleasant, no. But if he really was cursed to stay in that place for eternity then he'd take the combustion.
He tried to forget the pain and think. Think. He didn't want to think anymore. He was tired and he didn't know where he was, why, would he see his family again or why he even tried to get out of there when it was no use. He wanted to sleep.
He laid down to the floor but didn't close his eyes. His mind was worn but body wasn't. Was it possible he wasn't even able to sleep? He laughed inwardly. Now that started to sound like a living hell.
Giotto lost the sense of time, staring at the one spot of the empty room. He remembered the room. It was one for guests, not used often because it was one of the smallest rooms in the manor. Giotto liked it though, not more than his own room, but the room was comfy and gave away a warm feeling of closeness and home. The man noticed the colors of the room hadn't changed much either. It was still warm brown.
Days passed as Giotto laid there, staring and trying to empty his head. It wasn't easy and it needed concentration which he gave willingly. Absently he noticed how the light entered the room other side of a big window, then turned into dark once again. That happened many times and Giotto just stared, feeling numb. His hand didn't hurt much anymore but he wasn't up to rising up just yet. His mind was tired.
The shadow passed the opposite wall of the window as a tall man with blond, spiky hair entered the room. Giotto's head perked up. Other human being? When had he seen one last time? He sat up, staring the man that had stopped in the middle of the room. Giotto stood up, placing a hand against the glass. It wasn't neither cool nor warm. It just was. His sky blue eyes observed the occupant of the room whose head was now bowed down.
The man was depressed, Giotto noticed. He was good at observing people, somehow he just knew how others were like, what they were feeling. He understood without knowing or trying. That man, on the other side, was going through a fight inside his head. Absentmindedly Giotto wondered what was wrong but, well, he had quite much going on in his own head that he didn't feel like trying to help. He would, though, if the man helped him out first...
Help him out.
Giotto felt something stirring to life in his chest, something close to excitement and hope. He took a wavering breath and closed his eyes for a while in order to gather his courage and then knocked. He kept it light so that he wouldn't scare the man. But the other person didn't notice, didn't even stir. He just stood there, deep in his own thoughts. Maybe Giotto'd been too gentle with his knock or the man was too deep in his thoughts. Giotto tried again, harder.
Nothing still happened. The blond boss frowned, tilting his head. The man had moved but wasn't still looking at him. His eyes passed the window behind of which he was standing but nothing more. It was like he didn't see Giotto.
Something dying inside him again, Giotto tried to stop it and started to bang frantically against the glass. Notice me, please. But the man didn't. Instead he'd started to head for the door in order to exit the room. Not wanting to give away his maybe final chance of survival, Giotto banged so hard his hands started to ache because of unhealed burns. He shouted. Asked for help. Then pleaded.
The unknown man didn't notice or didn't want to. He left the room never looking back. Giotto felt that last part of hope in him cease to exist and stop breathing. He looked dully at the door the blond man had disappeared to and shrunk to the floor. His hands were still on the surface, shaking, and he drew them quickly to himself.
He knew he was being weak, ridiculous, but couldn't care a less. He was in a room without any life around and with teasing images of his home knowing he couldn't get back to. It was better stop hoping so nothing could crush him anymore, right?
Something in his mind talked to him though. Yes, talked. Told him to stop being such a baby and man up. It forced him to stand on his wobbly feet and walk to another window which had people passing it too. Automatically he started to bang his fists once again, ignoring to pain, and yelled. Asked and finally pleaded for help in a way which wasn't considered honourable for a grown man and a tough boss. He didn't care. He wanted out. Now.
No one saw him, no one heard him. He really was all alone. He fell down and met the darkness called floor. He wanted to laugh bitterly but once again the mind inside his head told him not to do that. It'd make him crazy, it said. It would make him lose the last piece of his sanity, it told him. Fine, if the voice wanted that, he'd listen.
So, instead of doing anything that would lead to his insanity, he laid there and waited. What? Nothing really. He just waited and waited. Maybe for a miracle that he never believed to exist. Once he'd been an orphan so he knew that no one else could help him out but himself. He was the only one to cause himself miracles. They didn't just appear out of thin air. Or better, out of the darkness that had lost all light. Had the darkness even known the light? Even once? Maybe that was why it didn't want to let it come close to it, because the light had hurt the dark in some way and it wanted to be alone. Its all hope was taken and lost. So was Giotto's.
Raise up. Now. The voice told him after a long time which could have been minutes, hours, days or who knew, maybe even months. Giotto didn't listen to it anymore, just stared somewhere which wasn't any of the windows and pretended to sleep. He hadn't slept at all during the time he'd been in the dark room. He didn't feel like it even though he was tired. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't. Just like he'd suspected: he couldn't even sleep. He wasn't even hungry or thirsty. He couldn't die.
He could always burn himself alive.
Don't be ridiculous! You have your family, remember? They need you! Oh yes, his family. They'd miss him very much if he died now. He didn't want to see their sad faces. They needed him and he needed them. It was simple as that. Yes, you must live for them. He'd live then. Now, stand up.
He stood, not knowing what to do now. He was up and saw that the windows were still there, in the middle of darkness, hanging from nothing. They were like levitating. Giotto started to walk to each of them, walking in a circle. Lightly, he touched the surfaces of all the windows, then stopped. He was in front of one of the smaller windows, shape of a rectangle. Behind it he saw an old man, comping his hair back and humming happily. His eyes were brown, warm brown and his face wrinkled. Giotto stared the man in the eye and the man stared back. Then, something flashed in Giotto's mind. Those tasks the old man was doing. Comping hair. Looking. Then he remembered the locations of all the other windows and he realized something.
Something that wasn't good at all. On the contrary.
The windows weren't windows. They were mirrors!
They were god damn mirrors!
"What?" Giotto whispered, voice cracking after a long inactivity. Mirrors. No wonder no one had noticed him. He was inside a freaking mirror! He wanted to curl into a ball and cry, oh he so wanted to do that. After this long time he had nothing else but black and mirrors. He didn't want to find out why he was inside the mirrors of his mansion or why was there people unfamiliar to him. He just either wanted to get the hell out or break completely down. Maybe both.
You don't have time for that, the voice in his head yelled at him. His intuition was telling him something. Blocked his unshed tears away and hardened his mind. He had to move so he did. He passed the old man bitterly, not liking him one bit even if the old one mightn't be the one who cursed him into the situation. He passed many mirrors looking into them, still letting his fingers slide over them. He looked, stared, observed, finally understanding why he was seeing what he was seeing. It all made sense now.
His eyes caught other person. Someone much younger than the old man from a while ago. Then he noticed it was the same room he'd seen the first person after entering his abyss. He stopped and stared. Someone was looking straight to him. No. He was looking straight to the mirror. Looking at himself and not Giotto. The man thought bitterly, humans only saw themselves. Nothing more, no one else.
The boy had a messy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Absently Giotto noticed the boy was too thin compared to his height but didn't mingle in it too long. Instead, he wanted to stare into the young boy's eyes. Like from the man before, he was able to detect deep sadness now too. So deep Giotto felt his throat closing and breathing become harder than before. The eyes that looked back at him were hollow and so sad. Too sad for a boy so young. Giotto couldn't break their eye contact even though he knew they boy wasn't looking at him.
A weird feeling passed the blond. Or was he?
Giotto's eyes widened. He placed his palm against the glass and leaned in, looking at the boy whose eyes had widened too. The dull brown sparkled for few seconds, telling Giotto that it really was true, the boy had seen him. The dead eyes looked alive, even if it was just a second, it was definitely there.
Something fell down from the corner of the man's eyes. It left a wet streak after it and landed on his now smiling lips. It tasted salty. Giotto couldn't believe what he was seeing. After all this time someone had finally seen him! He was saved. There was hope. There was hope!
But then, the brown eyes were showing something else, once again. They were full of fire, determination while the small boy stepped few steps closer to the mirror and glared up at Giotto. Giotto's smile faltered a little, seeing the fear and will in the boy's eyes. His breath stuck in his throat.
"You're not really here," the brunet whispered, voice wavering. Giotto's eyes widened even more. Was the boy speaking Japanese? Like his Asari did. "And I'm not crazy!" the boy now yelled and left the room. For a while Giotto couldn't help but stare his retreating back until it disappeared. Then the situation hit in and Giotto started to bang the mirror, yelling in Italian because he didn't trust his rusty Japanese enough. "Come back! Please! Help me!"
But the boy didn't come back. Not for a long time. Still, Giotto couldn't stop himself from smiling happily, his heart now filled with new, pure hope. There was someone that had seen him, knew where he was, and he'd find out a way to get out of the mirror.
The blond man sat down, preparing to wait for the young boy no matter how long it took. The boy was his only hope now and he had all the time in the world. A little waiting would be nothing compared to the time he'd had to spend all alone in the hopeless darkness.
