Storms in Spring – Gokudera Hayato & Miura Haru
Haru hated when the storms came in spring. It was almost as if they wanted to rain down on her parade. Of course, she also hated it when the 'Storm' himself decided to pay her little 'checkup visits', he called them.
"Why are you here, Gokudera-san?" Haru drawled, half-lidded eyes peering up at the silver haired bomber.
"Check-up. Can't have you screwing up our battle suits deadline." he took a look around, his brow furrowed in disgust, "Are you a pack rat or something? Christmas is coming and you haven't cleaned up in the least." precariously, he nudged away a piece of what seemed to be leftover teriyaki chicken along with some dried grains of rice.
"What's the point? This year's Christmas is nothing to be excited about. And like the many times I've told you before, I do not need your monthly checkups. Anyhow, the battle suits aren't due for another three weeks. What did you come here for Stupidera?"
Seven years into the future and Miura Haru was the head designer of all battle gear, subordinate and personal weaponry for the Vongola.
Gokudera sighed, his hands running through his hair, "Don't call me that, woman. Look, you're living in a new country. This isn't Japan anymore, this is Dresden, Germany. No one can keep track of you in this country, it's not Vongola territory. It's a completely different mafia's field; we can't help you if anything comes up."
"It doesn't mean that you have to fly over here every month, Gokudera-san," Haru paused, "I moved for a reason, you know."
The man snorted, not caring in the least.
Six years into the future and Miura Haru no longer loved Sawada Tsunayoshi.
He invites himself in and sat on the couch, praying that there nothing nasty was underneath there.
A bunch of papers flown towards the bomber, almost taking him by surprise, almost.
"The prints. I've only gotten to Takeshi-kun, Mukuro-san, and-" she paused, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Xanxus-sama." venom dripped off of the name, soundly sickly sweet and only slightly forced.
Gokudera frowned a little bit more, his brow creasing deeper, "For the Varia too?"
"Bel came over a couple days ago, said that if the main family gets new suits, they should too, seeing that Sawada-san cut a whole twenty percent off of their paychecks," Haru could see that the right hand man was not pleased, "Don't worry, it's on me. I'll pay for the cost of their new suits."
He snorted again, this time with aggravation not pure annoyance, "They're dangerous. Siding up to them nicely, aren't you?"
"Think what you want, the entire Vongola family doesn't care anyway. You're dangerous, hotheaded, idiotic, impulsive, cold, insincere. I don't think that the Varia is any worse, maybe even better."
Five years into the future and Miura Haru dropped the act.
"You think we don't care!" his voice exploded in the small room, "You really think that we don't care. You think that going missing for a whole month, ending up in the hospital with third degree burns on you, and not even bothering to contact us wouldn't make us worry?" his hands grabbed on to Haru's shoulders, quivering as he held on to them.
"You're cutting off blood circulation, Gokudera-san." she reached up to pull off his hands, growing frantic when he held on tightly, "Let go of me! D-Don't touch me!"
Four and a half years into the future and Miura Haru was drugged, kidnapped, beaten, hurt, scarred…
Gokudera didn't let go, he wouldn't let go, he couldn't, not with what happened last time, he pulled her into an embrace, tight but not so tight, close but not so close, it was just right. Just the way she liked it, without ties, or bonds, without that lecherous smirk, look, or thought.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't there. Wasn't there when he…" Gokudera buried his head in Haru's neck, breathing in her scent.
Lavender and lilacs.
She had stopped fighting, letting him shiver and sob onto her, "I know."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't stop him. I-I won't let go, ever."
"I know."
Haru didn't know why, but the way that Gokudera held her was nothing like how he did it. It wasn't the type of touch that made one shiver in pleasure, nor was it the kind where you just want to wash away everything, standing in the shower for hours, until your skin was red and wrinkled. But it was never enough, the stench, the feeling, was still there, you couldn't get rid of it.
"I love you, Miura Haru."
Her breath hitched and teeth ground together, "It's too early for the storms to come. Can you wait a little longer? The Spring isn't ready for the Storms yet."
She could feel him moving, his lips curling into a smile, it wasn't much but it's an improvement.
.
.
.
A/N : Just to be clear, even if this story has been portrayed rather lightly, the matter and topic of rape isn't one to be joked upon. As much as others think that it's just physical, it isn't. It is one of the most disgusting and replusive actions that could be performed on another, whether it be man or woman. In one light, it is the taking away of power from the victim. Everyone wants to be in control of their own body, their own person, rape takes away this. Again, even if this story was portrayed lightly, I don't want readers to think that this topic is so simple.
On a lighter note, HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!