note: the italicized words inside the parentheses are not thoughts, I mean, not exactly. For Haru's perspective, it's the voices in her head. For everyone else's it's their conscience and their regret-inator or something like that.

dedicated to: the song "Saving Grace" by The Maine (you should listen to it) and to Akira Amano

disclaimer: KHR! isn't mine.

ps: reviews are appreciated. I have yet to write a second chapter to this (though I should have) because I don't think this story will work out. The plot's really carved in my mind already but, you know, it's really a pain to transfer my ideas to paper and stuff. So yeah. Breathe and then enjoy.

Tell the cops they'll never catch us alive

No parachutes, no ropes, we're taking the dive

We'll not be the overrated heroes but we'll be the feared villains;

Screwing up things and screwing them up again

All doors we wanted to enter are closed and bolted

'Cause we are the kids that can't be trusted

prologue: lachrymose; the dark before the dawn

"I'm glad that you made it, Hayato," Haru said, solemnly, quietly.

She looked at him briefly with blank brown eyes then turned to look down the fifteen storey high building they were standing on. She picked this particular rooftop because it had none but one light, which was three feet away from them, hanging on the door that led downstairs. It didn't give off much illumination; it was enough for them to see each other but not quite enough for others to see them.

(But they could see you.)

(They're here too. Hidden in the shadows, tucked away in corners. They don't trust you.)

Below, the streets were filled with people; it was the Spring Festival, of course there would be a lot of them. Mothers pulled on their easily-excited children's hands; fathers and big brothers trailed behind almost grudgingly; and sisters shopped on the stalls vivaciously. One wouldn't be able to drop a needle in the sea of people.

But Haru didn't mind. It was best that way. The more witnesses, the better.

"Yeah, sure," Gokudera Hayato slowly said, looking at her calculatingly. He said, we were looking all over for you and he said it's a relief that you called me. Haru, she wanted to believe the things he said but it was fairly easy to lie and people liked to do easy things.

(A relief, huh?)

Haru didn't acknowledge him, and instead continued to look on. An array of beautifully coloured lanterns hung in between every two unlit lampposts. Stalls of different sales lined in parallel to each other, inside them equally aggressive salesmen and saleswomen, hoping to gain more money out of their products than they spent producing them.

And they were like mocking her; scoffing about how unlike her, they were happy and they were content. Unlike her, they weren't being watched the moment she slept to the moment she woke up. Unlike her, they didn't have a constant sniper pointed towards her head. Unlike her, they were free.

(What would Takeshi think? Where is he now? Is he okay? Are they still watching him?)

"Haru?" Hayato pulled on her shoulders lightly, steering her away from the edge of the rooftop with discretion. He levelled his face with hers and looked at her dead straight in the eyes, still holding her by the shoulders securely. It was almost insulting to Haru, to say the least.

(What's he doing, acting all sweet? It's not like him at all. He's changed after —)

"Why did you suddenly disappear? You've got us all worried." he said gently, and it made her want to abandon her meticulously strategized plan and join the mothers pulling on their children's hands, the fathers and the big brothers trailing grudgingly behind and the sisters shopping vivaciously down below — to forget every single thing that pushed her in doing what she was going to do. His eyes were so green in the moonlight and his hair was so silver. He looked like how he looked like before it all happened—beautiful as the sky and radiant like the sun.

Haru had the urge to scream. She didn't want to go; she didn't want to forget. She wanted to live.

(And, besides, he's not the one, right? It's someone else. He was just—ah, temporary entertainment.)

But she couldn't, now could she? Not with all that happened. Not with all that she had seen. Not with all that she had experienced.

(Not with everything)

She shook his hands away and stepped back. She looked away from him, mind reeling with thoughts that weren't even supposed to be remembered. She didn't want to look at him again and feel her resolve weaken. She had to get this done.

She just had to.

Even with the buzzing of the crowd, she was sure he could hear her. "Yes, about that." She inhaled deeply and willed herself to look at him again. "We need to talk about... things."

"What kind of things?" he asked surreptitiously, doubtfully. He stepped close to her and she stepped back. Distance. Distance.

(No, no. Not too close)

"Don't — " she said brusquely, abruptly, " — come near me."

She shrunk away from him because this was Hayato and he had an effect on her that was something in the lines of: heartbreaking, addicting, tempting. He asked why, why are you acting like this, but she didn't respond because at that split second that he looked so desperate she didn't trust her voice.

"Why?" his voice shook a little bit the second time, but she pretended that she didn't hear. It was fake, bogus; all this concern and this worrying.

"I asked you to come here for a talk, not for physical contact," she snapped now, her voice ringing in her head, in her chest.

"Then talk!" he bit back.

At the sight of him all stressed and worked up she decided to turn her back at him. She didn't really think it would take this long. This was bad because they were waiting.

"I need to talk to you about what happened three weeks ago; Thursday," she voiced out and it ached and it hurt, God what did I do to deserve this?

Flashes of everything zoomed before her eyes and it was like a horrific déjà vu from some unrealistic indie film. The bombs, the car crash, the screams, the blood. The sounds from down below transformed into flying debris, into metals colliding, into voices crying and into blood splattering. This wasn't good. No. No. No. No.

Not him, please! He's just a baby! Hayato! It's Kosame, he's… he's—

(Snap out of it!)

"Haru," he said reproachfully, "I told you to forget about it!"

She clenched her hands into fists but stood her ground. Haru felt like throwing up, bleeding, crying, anything to keep the bad out. "How can I, Hayato? He was everything to me. He was everything to you. To us," she said, her voice shaking helplessly.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he persisted, like he didn't hear her say what she just said — (like he was never anything special to him) — "It's done! You need to move on!"

It's done?

"Move on?" she asked incredulously. She turned around and faced him, anger a roaring inferno in her eyes. "You want me to move on after that?" Green eyes, silver hair and hurt expressions be damned. He just couldn't understand.

(He won't understand. Not when he's out there valiantly on center stage and you're here uselessly on the sidelines)

"Well, yes!" he punctuated angrily. "You can't possibly be shallow enough to call and tell me that you're traumatized because I've seen more of that than you will ever do!"

(Shallow? That word again, huh? The one wouldn't have called you like that.)

"Don't you dare compare our situations!" she screamed. "You don't know what it's like to — "

"No! You don't know what it's like!" he interposed hotly. "You will never do!"

"Because you never let me!" She was losing precious time having this kind of argument. She needed things to be said and done.

(Your heart's probably bursting now, isn't it? With the loss and the heartbreak and the rejection and all? Ha. I told you too much concern's a real big pain in the ass.)

"Because you never seem to care when — "

"Shut up! Shut the hell up for once, will you? You talk like you're all high and mighty because you're part of the most powerful mafia family but you're not! You're still a high school student, Hayato! You're just one of us — one of the useless specks of dust in Japan; in the universe!" she was panting heavily now, gasping any breath of oxygen near, "You need to understand that everything isn't about you or Tsuna-san or Takeshi! Sometimes, it's about other people too! You're not the only one who's getting hurt when you go out and fight. We hurt too!"

And it was true. Whenever they step out all confident and heroic Haru and Kyoko whimpered inside, scared that they'd never come back. And, when they came back all bloody and bruised Haru and Kyoko put on their confident and heroic masks, determined not to let them crack.

(Get on with the point. You're wasting time!)

(Do you feel their eyes? Do you feel them watching you like they do every single day since that incident? Hurry up or you'll miss the chance! You can only taint your friends' name so much.)

He pursed his lips together tightly, defiant. Why is he making this so hard for me?

"Well," he gritted out, "I guess you don't hurt enough because you still act like a child."

"A child, Hayato?" she said with a small voice. "A child? Do you really think that I still act like a child?"

He said yes with a growl so predatory. "I really think that."

(Well, fuck you then.)

"What?" she managed to say faintly. Even if she had always expected that from him, it was still painful.

"I said that I really do think that you're acting like a child," he clarified, "You're idiotically stubborn and you're sorely ignorant. You move like a recently castrated three-year old and you speak like you're five. Can't you use pronouns? I thought you were in high school already."

Hayato's words tarnished every little hope Haru had the he would ever be considerate.

(Yeah, well, he wasn't considerate then what makes you think he'd start now?)

"What, did you think that after that one night I'm going to sweet to you?"

Haru's eyes widened. Her hands were clammy and her eyelids kept twitching. She didn't want to cry. She wasn't going to cry. If Hayato wanted her to break down and to be hurt, Haru resolved that he wasn't going to get the satisfaction... but with him talking liked that —

(Make him stop. You're only hurting yourself.)

"Did you think that after that crazy one night stand; our relationship suddenly developed into something else? It was just one night, Haru! And we were drunk! It's not like we've been together for years! So stop acting like we have!"

Hayato huffed and stomped his foot like he did when he wanted to prove his point.

"I'm calling Boss and the others," he said after a while. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled. All the while he stared Haru down intently, his eyes held some sort of a message she wasn't sure she could understand, but she tried.

(He's joking; bluffing. He couldn't be serious, right? He's not supposed to do that! Not yet!)

Haru pleaded with her eyes to have Hayato tell her what it was he was trying to say out loud, so she could hear— so she could forget everything he just said.

But not a word slipped out.

At the third ring, Tsuna picked up. Hayato murmured their location and dropped the call.

"I hope you're happy now," he muttered, "You like being worried about, after all."

(And you like acting a prick.)

He turned his back on her abruptly and said over his shoulder with a voice as cold as a predator's blood, "Please don't do anything reckless. After what happened, people from the upper branches of Vongola are going to be suspicious as of why people keep dying in front of us, the kids who are supposed to replace them in a few years."

(There it is. The signal)

Haru stepped back haphazardly, tears brimming her eyes. His words hit her like bullets and it seemed that she wasn't going to forget any of it. She couldn't believe that he had the gall to say that to her; even if it was part of her plan. How could he say that?

After all that they had been through?

After all the battles and the bruises and the healing and the scars?

After that night ten months ago?

She continued to step back until her feet hit the rooftop's edge. Haru was shaking all over but she refused to cry. She should to do it now, shouldn't she?

"Would... would it kill you to care ..." she whispered, but he heard her well, Haru knew, "... as much as I did?"

Hayato turned to look at her briefly then said: "No, but it will kill you if I cared too much. About him. About them. It's dangerous — our relationship, I mean. It's combustible. One wrong snap of a match and we're done for. I don't want you to burn; I'm better off... scorching alone."

"But we can get through this!" she persisted, "Me and you and — "

"No, we can't." He deadpanned. "Maybe what they said was true, huh, Haru? Maybe it was better if we kept our temptations intact. The moment we set them loose a lot of people got hurt. That includes Takeshi and he's our friend."

"Y-yeah," she murmured. "Maybe you're right."

Haru did naught but watch Hayato leave wordlessly.

That's it. I'm done... goodbye. Goodbye, Hayato. Goodbye, Tsuna, Kyoko, Lambo, Chrome, Ryohei and Bianchi. Goodbye, Kosame. Goodbye, everyone.

I'm sorry, Shippuu. I'm sorry Takeshi. I'm sorry I failed the both of you. I hope this decision really benefits the three of us.

Hayato and everyone else never came. Maybe he didn't really tell them where she was; but that was okay. It was fine because it was better that they were far.

Only a few hours subsequent Haru and Hayato's meeting, news came to them that Haru was dead. Her body was found mangled and bloody on a sidewalk fifteen storeys down where they talked. Hayato didn't say a word about their heated rendezvous; not even when the report said that the cause of death was suicide.

The nighttime news had Haru's name all over it. The town talked and they scoffed about how it was about time that girl killed herself. They said, with everything that she's seen and everything she's lost, it is no surprise that she took her own fragile life and dropped it down a fifteen-storey high building.

But what they didn't know was that she was as good as dead even before she took the dive.