My Escape

She is delicate as a rose, and possessed such an innocence that made him feel the want to protect it, watch it grow. She was growing sick and tired of the world where she had no freedom, had no soul. But he was mysterious, silent, and all the more vicious and free. By being together, they could escape. But was it really all that simple? TYL!Hibari/OC

Ah, I'm sorry. It is slightly OOC is Hibari's part. I wanted to edit this, but I had no idea how. There's not much romance, I guess. I basically threw characterization out of the window, so this is slightly fail.

It's a one-shot~ Enjoy.

Their first meeting was by coincidence. At first, Hibari didn't really pay much attention. She was just a young girl, a prodigy at piano, and was probably forced into it since young. It wasn't really any of his business, since it happened a lot.

He did feel her intense stare at him. Didn't anyone teach the girl manners?

He was in Vienna, and was at a party of a soon to be victim. He did very much believe in the term 'hiding in board daylight' and it did make things more interesting. So he snuck in as a 'representative' of some rich guy who 'couldn't come along'. Well yes, he couldn't come along because he already did him in a couple of hours ago.

The girl was wearing a little white dress, and she looked quite sickly with her pale, Austrian skin. All Europeans seemed to have really pale skin. He didn't have anything to do, so he lingered around a corner of the room where there weren't much people around. Crowding was unnecessary, but he couldn't cause a scene here, he knew this.

The girl's eyes were still focused on him. They looked hard, bored, and lifeless.

His soon to be victim then stood on the stage, and mentioned in German that his granddaughter was going to play the piano for everyone. There were polite clapping, and lights focused on the stage. The people went silent, and Hibari didn't see why he shouldn't listen. He enjoyed classical music.

The girl stood on stage, and her dirty blonde hair was too bright under the spotlight. She briefly bowed, and took a seat at the grand piano.

Although her whole figure looked weak and sickly, Hibari found himself being attracted to her music. Her small, pale hands possessed thin and long fingers that glided over the piano, and her foot briefly pressed down on the pedals at the right times.

It was an enchanting take on Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, but Hibari could tell it was lifeless.

It was a perfect kill. He had slipped into his room unnoticed, and killed him without a drop of blood being spilt. He had to admit, he was getting better at this now. He was used to killing, but killing without mess was quite tricky.

So he jumped out of the window into the large open space which was the garden, and he slipped his leather gloves into his coat pocket. He landed swiftly, and almost silently.

"Hello, mysterious person. Are you a hitman?"

The voice was quite still, yet silky. He turned to see the girl from the party. Was he busted? Oh, well then he would have to kill her as well. It wasn't much of a loss.

"I won't tell anyone. Grandpa was getting too old anyway."

She said those cold, heartless words emotionlessly. Hibari didn't have any doubt that she was telling the truth. Plus, she didn't see anything, other than him jumping down. Anyway, no one could catch Hibari Kyouya. He didn't even use his real name, so therefore no one could really trace him. He didn't understand why he placed so much trust in that girl though.

"My name's Louise. I'm fourteen. You don't have to tell me your name." She smiled slightly, and titled her head a little.

Her height and looks still made her look like a young girl.

Hibari didn't bother saying anything. He didn't need to say anything.

He was back in Italy when he heard of her debut. She was only sixteen, and he was twenty. For her name to even appear on his newspaper would only mean she was talented, very much so. The classical music world was hard to grasp, he understood this.

"Kyo-san, what's wrong?" He had forgotten that Kusakabe was still present in his office. The room felt a little musty.

"You're dismissed."

Kusakabe nodded, and left the room promptly. Hibari sighed. His mind was awfully cloudy for some reason.

His finger traced the teen's wide smile on the coloured photo. The smile was overdone, and so obviously fake. She clutched onto the gold trophy like it was her whole life.

She was wearing white again.

Chances seemed to circle them, he supposed, since here he was, in France, where one of her piano recitals were going to take place. In fact, within those two years, he had always kept himself undated with news about her. He listened to her piano sometimes, and they still seemed lifeless to him, but it was better than before.

It made him think of Moonlight Sonata from all those years ago.

Through his amazing connections, he got himself a front row seat, right near the area of the performer.

He licked his dry lips and smacked a tonfa in a face of a victim. Blood clung on his new, crisp suit. He couldn't say he didn't expect this, however.

It was how it was meant to be. Blood, blood everywhere. It was more him.

Hello, mysterious person.

Are you a hitman?

She spoke those words easily, no fear for her life. She spoke of her Grandfather like it didn't matter if he lived or not. Not a hint of emotion.

She seemed innocent.

Was she innocent?

Well, she certainly hasn't seen scenes like this before.

Hibari walked over the piles of dead or unconscious bodies like a celebrity on a red carpet. In a sense, it was a red carpet.

It was his red carpet of blood.

He grinned. His timing was perfect. He still had hours left before the recital.

She hadn't changed, much. Her dirty blonde hair was done up into a bun, and her murky brown eyes were indifferent. But she wore a slight smile throughout the course of the recital. At least she was wearing a wine red dress that time, as apposed to white.

White did not suit her.

Her fingers glided on the piano effortlessly, a product of constant practice. From sources, he heard she didn't do well in anything other than music. Music, in a sense, was her life, like being a Mafioso was his life.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

Hibari stared at his fingernails. Traces of blood were still there.

She was continuing onto the climax of the piece.

When she finally bowed, a large grin was plastered onto her face. Throughout the applause, she was only really looking at one person.

Him.

It was like saying 'this recital was especially for you'.

Hibari remembered he brought along some flowers with him. He remembered storming into the nearest flower shop he could find and demand for some flowers for a 'gift'.

He was glad he bought it now.

He could only hear her heels clicking on the smooth stage floor as she walked away during a second round of applause.

Her hair was still as bright as he remembered.

They were in her dressing room afterwards, with the bunch of flowers carelessly placed on dressing table and his coat draped onto a back of a chair.

They were sitting on sofas, facing each other, in utter silence. She sat rigidly out of habit, and he sunk back. It was much unlike him, but he didn't care right now.

"So, thanks for coming, Mr. Hitman." A light grin spread across her face. Even at eighteen, she still was small for her age.

"Matsumoto." It was his fake name he used around everywhere. He refused to use a foreign name since he was Japanese, and he was proud of his roots.

"Ma-sue-mo-to?" She attempted to say his name with her German accent. Not so much of a great idea.

Hibari sighed. "Just call me M."

She seemed unfazed by that, calling someone of only a letter. "Fine. M, could you come to my next one too, if you're not busy? I can always send tickets to you, since I get to offer up a front row seat."

"Whatever." He shrugged. "Do what you like."

"Can I have an address to post it to then?"

Hibari grumbled something, went into his suit pocket and held a card with two fingers. He placed it on the coffee table.

"Happy?"

She laughed, picked up the card, and stuck it on her mirror. She returned quickly and sat herself down with as much grace as one could master.

She was pretty.

He smirked.

Louise felt odd. She was touring around Europe, and every time, every single time, except for that one time in France, she didn't see him.

He was inspiration. The sight of him was mesmerising, never mind captivating. He had this certain aura around him that screamed fear, blood, possession, absolute control, and freedom.

What she wanted most but could not get.

Her father's side were a family of musicians. Strict, prideful, and absolute. Since young, she was forced on the piano day in, day out. There were marks on her skin that still reminded her of what happened afterwards when she didn't do it right.

See, she was eighteen now, applauded by famous critics around the world for her so called 'originality' and 'style'. It was all bullshit to her. She couldn't play properly until she met him. He had everything she had not. Although he had a commanding aura around him, she was not scared of him. Something about him told her that he wasn't all bad.

They lived in two different worlds.

He had interesting company. While she was doing a recital in Hungary, a man with silvery hair was sitting in the seat that was always reserved for him. She felt her heart crumble at the sight. He gave away her ticket.

Luckily, she was about to play a gloomy piece, so of course, she aced it better than usual.

However, the guy with the knowing eyes just smirked slightly, and clapped out of tune to everyone else.

His eyes lingered toward the beautiful grand piano. Louise tugged at her green dress slightly.

The expression he was showing was unbelievable. It was a mixture of sadness and regret, and overall indifference and annoyance.

Louise had to smile at him.

He grimaced.

Mr. M, you are everything I am not. You have freedom, an overpowering aura. I would love to just taste that life.

You are something I could never be.

It was one of those chance meetings again. He was twenty-three, and she was nineteen. From appearances, they looked like a couple with a large age difference.

Louise stirred her mocha randomly, and the clanging from the spoon was annoying him, fast. However, instead of making a scene, he resorted to distracting himself, and went on gently stirring his black coffee.

It was a cold winter morning, and no one was as 'stupid' as them to have their coffee outside. Steam were escaping and blending into the air, and the hot drinks turned warm alarmingly quick.

Louise ripped a sugar pack and poured the contents into the drink anyway. The white power was quickly mixed, and she took a sip and licked her lips.

"How are you these days? It's been over a year."

"Hm." He was blindly staring at his cup and drinking it slowly. A couple of people walked past them, some shivering, some giving them weird looks, and some just not really giving a fuck about anything.

"You're pretty." It was random, but it was Hibari. He was one of the most straightforward people around.

"Thanks. You're enchanting." Her eyes stared at him freely. He widened his eyes a little.

"Sorry." Her gaze returned to her drink.

"It's fine."

When she looked up again, he was looking away. Even if he looked menacing to passers by, she felt close to him. He looked smart and deadly in his black trench coat and suit, but she thought it made him look cute.

Maybe she was catching some rare disease of some sort. He was a hitman. He killed people for a living.

Somehow, she failed to care a lot about that.

She would only grin when he wouldn't look at her.

There was an odd feeling deep inside him. Hibari couldn't really name it.

He knew this was wrong. The woman was four years younger than him. Something in him told him it wasn't right -

But something else told him to just ignore that.

There was something in her eyes. They looked murky, but they were bright, full of hope, innocent, to a point. It was something he could never have. He couldn't believe what he was thinking of lately.

Was it her smile?

Maybe.

He just had that overwheming urge to protect her.

It was wrong. He shouldn't have a weakness.

The night was growing cold. Louise could see the stars in the clear German sky. It somehow reminded her of home.

Somehow or another, M was walking beside her. He didn't say a thing, and just starting walking with her. Probably wanting to walk her back to her hotel. She smiled at that. He was a little awkward, but he was nice nevertheless.

Walking around the streets at night seemed a whole lot different with him around. She didn't tell him that she was talking the roundabout way around to her hotel, and she had a sneaky suspicion that he knew. His eyes were wondering.

The lights at night were pretty. She watched her breath form a ghostly white cloud in front of her, and smiled. They walked past shops that opened late and bars which had drunk men waltzing around. M looked at them disapprovingly, and when one approached them, he smacked him down with what looked like a silver bar. He then kicked him in the stomach repeatedly, until Louise pulled on his arm. He then reluctantly went along and dismissed the guy.

Louise didn't mind if the stupid guy would end up dead, but she really didn't want to witness it.

While they walked into a quiet area, she felt her blood rush into her head for no reason at all. She yawned, and got a look from M.

"Do you go to sleep early?"

"Uhhh normally. Staying up later unnecessarily is bad for the body and anything that's bad for the body's bad for piano."

Louise yawned again, and her head started bopping up and down. She shouldn't be surprised; it was nearing five o'clock in the morning. She didn't remember ever staying up so late. But she had so much fun today!

Her feet felt weak and her usual brown leather boots felt heavier. She started swaying, she knew that much.

"Just sleep."

She was suddenly in strong arms. Louise wondered if she was dreaming or not. Her eyes felt heavy, but she gave in.

She listened for once.

She groaned. Louise sifted a little to get a little more comfortable, but found that she could not.

Oh! She was on a sofa. Explained things.

Her head still felt heavy, so she didn't bother opening her eyes yet. She unconsciously heard footsteps that drew open what sounded like curtains. She felt the sunshine imprint on her skin, but it was giving the opposite effect. He was probably demanding her to get up.

So she did. Louise sat up, scratched her head a little, and opened her eyes gradually. It looked like she was in an apartment. A coffee table and a TV sat in front of her. It was simple, yet well furnished. She stared down at the large white mug in front of her. From the smell and the look of it, it looked like cappuccino. She became accustomed to identifying caffeinated drinks from a glace since she drunk the stuff almost every day.

There was a note on the table.

Hier leben statt

A key sat next to the piece of paper.

Maybe he was just ridiculously rich or something, but telling someone to live in an apartment was incredibly crazy.

She laughed at herself in the empty apartment.

He was probably some kind of magician, because she was sure that someone drew the curtains.

That afternoon, she checked out the hotel room and moved into the apartment, even though there wasn't much point since she was leaving Germany next week.

A year later, Louise found herself in Italy. She had decided to take a break from shows, and wanted to take a vacation. Her first choice was Italy, because well, Italy had some of her favourite coffee, it was a beautiful place, and because – because she hoped that she could see M again. Since he was, as she decided years ago, was a hitman, she thought that he could be a Mafioso too, and in her odd mind, she thought that she could 'accidentally' meet him again, like the other times.

She was dressed casually while she walked down the old streets of Sicily. Louise was probably drifting off into space when she heard a gunshot. Her knees suddenly turned to jelly.

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT-

The gunshot suddenly multiplied and she turned to run.

Pain spread from her thigh.

It all happened too fast. She faintly remembered a thud, and her eyes growing heavy.

There was a knock at Hibari's office door. When he didn't answer, the person just barged in anyway. If a person was to be that fearless, it could only be a selective few.

"Oi, Hibari. Do you know that pianist? The one you gave me a ticket to see?"

Hibari didn't bother raising his head, but kept typing on his computer instead. "Speak."

"She was caught in a fight over in Sicily. Yamamoto was in the area, and took her to a hospital. Just saying."

Gokudera slammed the door behind him and something in Hibari twisted. He didn't like the feeling.

He picked up the phone instead.

Oh great. Everything seemed to happen around her nowadays. It was lucky she was still god damn alive. Alive and kicking to still play the piano, the only bloody thing she could do. She was made for it. Her hands were soft, long and thin, her eyes were quick to read the notes and her hand eye coordination just added that kick.

It made her think back to when she was young. At school, other than English and German, she would fail at everything given to her. Italian was a piece of cake, since she needed it in music. She didn't have a memory for numbers, or dates and times. Her handwriting was sloppy and barely legible. It was basically a piece of modern art, if she could say so herself.

She remembered crying at night. Her father had drilled her on piano for hours on end, to the point that he refused to give her food if she didn't learn to play a piece right.

Because she was just an object to show off to. She was used to it.

"Hello?"

A voice? She didn't recognise it. It was deep, musty, yet it sounded friendly. Her eyes felt heavy, but after a few minutes, she could open her eyes.

"Hay." A man was sitting next to the bed she was on, and was dressed uncannily smart. He looked awfully good in his black suit with a silky blue tie. Blue seemed to be his colour, like purple seemed to be M's colour.

"Hi-" Shit, shit. Italian. ITALIAN.

"I mean – yeah sorry. Language mix up." That seemed to bring a smile onto the man's face. Possibly a look of relief.

"I'm glad you speak Italian, since other than that and Japanese, I don't speak anything else, haha."

"Oh really?" Her mouth felt dry. She couldn't move her left leg at all.

"Oh yeah, about your leg. The doctor said that they removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding. You're going to have to stay in hospital for a few days until your leg fully heals again." The man seemed to read her mind, although she reckoned it was just pure coincidence.

Her face dropped. If she was in hospital, and she couldn't move her fucking leg, how could she practice? Even when she moved onto another country for her recitals, or for personal reasons, she would always go and practice everyday, weather it would be in random music shops or classic coffee shops, or anywhere with an available piano. Also, she had to sight read. She made it a habit to do it every other day, just so pieces wouldn't just disappear from her head and she would get better at reading unknown peices.

"What's wrong?" The man looked concerned, although she shook her head.

Her eyes fell to a different area of the room. "It's nothing. Really. Thanks for sending me here, really. I owe you."

The man laughed, ignoring her sudden vague wording. "It's nothing. You seem to be an acquaintance of Hi- Matsumoto though. Is that true?"

She ignored the quick mistake, turned her head a little, before the name clicked into her head. "Ah, yes! M."

He laughed at that. "M? Seriously?"

"I can't pronounce Japanese names." She pouted and blushed a little.

"Aw. But yeah, he was calling me just then, asking how you were. I wonder why, he's usually really detached to people, haha."

"Yeah, I guess. Are you a hitman too, then?"

Yamamoto's eyes grew hard. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, M was a hitman, I think. He killed my grandfather six years ago and he jumped out of a tall window like a bird. He never said anything about it though."

"…Really?" He found it hard to contain laughter, she found.

"Yeah, I didn't see him actually kill him though. It was just a random guess, I suppose. It didn't matter, because I hated his nasty guts." She griminced at that.

"I… see." He laughed nervously.

"What's your name?"

"Uh… You can call me Y I guess. I'm a friend of uh… M's."

Louise shot a look of annoyance at him. "You know, I'm offended. I can tell you're a Mafioso as well. You can tell me. I'm not going to say anything. M trusted me, and I don't see why you shouldn't."

Yamamoto nodded slightly. "Uh… sorry. Yeah, I guess I am Mafia. But I can't say anything about M though; you'd have to ask him yourself. And what's yours?"

"You can call me Louise." She grinned.

"That's a pretty name. Are you from around here?"

"Ah, not really. I'm sort of a tourist. I'm a pianist from Austria. Have you been there?"

Yamamoto's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! Your Italian is great for an Austrian! Austria? Yeah, I've been there once on a job. It's a very beautiful country. You're a pianist you say? Haha, I know someone who's really good at piano too."

"I know." She grinned even more, since she was awfully patriotic from the start. Then something clicked in her head. "Ah, is it a man with silvery hair? Since you're a friend of M's, you might know him."

Yamamoto looked taken back. "Yeah… he does have silvery hair. How do you know?"

"He came to one of my recitals, and used the ticket I sent to M. I was hurt that he would give away a ticket of mine, but I guess he's too busy for my recitals. So I just guessed he was a friend of M's."

"I see. Yes, he knows how to play the piano. He's great at it." Yamamoto grinned widely.

"Hm. That's good." Her voice trailed off.

"You know, Y –"

"Yes?"

"C-Could you ask M to see me? I-I want to see him."

Yamamoto smirked knowingly. "He isn't in Sicily right now, but I could ask him."

"Uh, thanks." Louise blushed a little, after asking something, in her opinion, so embarrassing.

"Anyway, is M rich?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"He dropped me off in his apartment last year in Germany, and he told me to live there. He gave me a whole apartment, in a nice area, with nice things inside. Now, is he rich? He shouldn't be flinging his money around like that."

Yamamoto laughed again, and she blushed. It became full on laughter, and Louise got a little annoyed.

"What? There's no harm in asking!"

Yamamoto took in a deep breath. "Well, I guess you could say he has a high salary."

Ah, no wonder Hibari reported that the apartment in Germany was damaged and could not be used.

"Oh, I see."

The melody was coming together. Fingers traced across the large grand piano, and the girl's eyes opened and closed for a while. Possible weeks to months of practice were what were being played right now. Other than the sound of the music, not another sound was heard. It was like every other being around were holding their breath.

Her hair glowed under the spotlight like an artificial sun. Her skin was sickly pale, and her eyes were murky brown.

And her music was unforgettable.

He didn't understand why.

Hibari woke up, slightly startled. He was having the same dream again. It always happened when thoughts traced back to her. He wondered why. He knew he was fascinated, but was there really that need for it? She was just a piano player – millions of other people played also. That was her only gifted aspect.

He supposed, it was her innocence. She was snappy, a little quiet, yet too innocent for her own good. She wasn't scared of him, even knowing what he did for a living. He knew – the girl played for him. He made her music come alive.

So did she feel the same way as he did? Maybe.

He watched her eyes flutter open.

Hibari leaned in and kissed her fully on her lips. She caved in.

The sound of a trolley could be heard in the spacious corridors. Large double doors slid open, and a woman dressed casually walked in. She placed plates of food in front of each present men and a single woman, with a few 'Thank you' and 'Thanks' coming from them.

Large windows let in a lot of sunlight. Six Mafioso, including their boss, sat near the end of the long table. There were chatter and laughter, and brief conversations with the woman.

"Thanks." The lone man who sat near the other end of the table looked up at the woman, who smiled slightly. He folded the newspaper he was reading and placed it aside.

Pianist Dies in Tragic Accident read the visible headline.

The woman, with dyed silky brown hair, then took her seat opposite him and dug into her breakfast. Her pale skin glowed slightly in the Italian sunlight.

It's good to be home, he thought.

OMGOSH HIBARI IS SO OOC IN THIS D8 I am so worried. My OC may seem a little Sue since I let her character flow from my basis of 'piano player' haha. The plot bunny was bothering me a little, and I didn't really put much thought into this, so it might have sounded a little shoddy. Hope you guys enjoyed it anyway though, haha.