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A blanket of darkness descended upon the city - its contrast further illuminating the buildings which shone ever so brightly. Hues of yellow, red and blue from the neon billboards painted the metropolis, gleaming in its attempt to outshine the shimmer from the stars. The melody of the urban was certainly one of discordance, simply created from the meaningless mixture of sounds. Backstreets were illuminated by the soft, melancholic flickers from an old streetlamp. Somehow, somewhere, someone would be raring to fight in these alleys, accompanied by the glister of broken glass shards. In the midst of it all there was, but one, skyscraper that stood out from the rest. Sure, it was contemporary. But perhaps a little too modernistic for the likes of the current century. A very Peter Eiseman-isque design - on the leading-edge, yet absolutely overdone. It was dimly lit with a shadow of isolation casted over it. Within the topmost floor of the building, a figure loomed.
Dressed in a sharp looking suit, his tux was exquisitely cut, giving it a polished look. He lifted his fedora off his head and placed it on the night stand. Heading over to his wine cellar, he picked out a bottle from his prized collection - a 1999 Domaine De La Romanee Conti La Tache. Gently, he placed a wine glass on the counter and proceeded to pour the liquid into it before twisting the bottle gracefully towards the end to prevent spillage. Holding the glass in one hand, he walked over to the windowsill unhurriedly, marveling at the scenery - a dazzling city - before him.
" Reborn, " a voice called out. He spun around, and found himself gazing into orange orbs. Said man was equally well-dressed, looking slick from head to toe, with an orange dress shirt and a black jacket over it.
How…. enchanting.
" Reborn, " the voice called out again. Snapping out of his trance, he replied.
" Yes ? "
" Why did you leave the party ? " he questioned.
" Ah .. I got bored "
" .. Reborn .. ! " the younger one glared. Reborn ran his hand through the soft brown locks and smirked - he had just thought of a great idea. Setting his wine glass down on the night stand, he asked.
" Tsuna, why don't we dance ? "
" .. E-eh .. ? D-dance …. ? " before he could finish his sentence, Tsuna felt a hand on his waist, pulling him closer to the raven. And sooner than he realized, he was pulled into a dance of waltz.
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.
It was a heavy, solemn rhythm - holding a certain amount of fervor and woe in it. In his head, Tsuna could mentally imagine Chopin's waltz Op.34 No. 2 in A minor playing in the background. It was sentimental, and almost, just almost tragic if not for the suddenly major key change. He felt himself moving naturally to the tune.
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.
Suddenly, the tempo changed. It was intensified into a fast and light rhythm. It was a dance filled with so much vigor,energy . And yet he had to suppress his overflowing passion to press all his strength into gentle, graceful steps following the proper beat of the measure. Sliding and gliding effortlessly across the carpeted floor, he felt himself elevating and lowering on his toes, giving the dance a " rise and fall " momentum. Holding on to the older's man shoulder, he lifted his head up and found himself to be greeted by onyx orbs, gazing at him tenderly.
" Tsuna … " the raven whispered huskily. A shade of pink dusted onto the brunet's cheeks and before he knew it, he felt a brush against his lips, before finally pinning him into a deep, sensual kiss.
The Waltz continued through the night, as the faint moonlight peeked through the windows, concealing the duo.