Folie à Deux Chapter I: Alleluia, a katekyo hitman reborn! fanfic

Title: Folie à Deux
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to Akira Amano
Pairing: Byakuran/Mukuro, hinted Mukuro/Hibari
Warning: Semi-non-con, blood, yaoi and still un-beta-ed

Praise to thee, O Lord, king of eternal glory…

—Folie à Deux—
Chapter I: Alleluia

He was blindfolded. The little piece of cloth put him securely back into darkness – the world in which he was cursed to dwell – imprisoned for almost all his life. The sky wouldn't be so bright out there, so he didn't care to open his eyes in the first place and just let himself being carried.

Imprisoned in the dark for so long, he didn't really need the ability to see to perceive the surrounding. Being chained to cease of motion, he was yet his other senses seemed to sharpen. He could smell so-well the damp, musty stench of the damned prison that incarcerated him for so long, along with the much sweeter, fresher odor of freshly spilled rose-red blood, which was so warm on his cold skin.

The sound of gunshot and yelling and screaming seemed to ring a bit too loud in his now-too-sensitive eardrums. And even with the act of passive unconsciousness he was sure he feigned perfectly – for he knew this wasn't the right time to play – he could still feel the arms that were holding him tremble. He could smell it so well…

The scent of fear.

The people having to touch him touched him as if he was a taboo. The people having to hold him held him because it was an order. The people saying they loved him said that because they knew how love could be faked.

Fastened. Restrained. Locked away.

He was…a forbidden child, turning so quiet because he believed he would forget how to sing.

Yet…

"Will you sing me a song, my beautiful Rapunzel?"

A voice, sounding so joyful yet strangely demanding, rang from somewhere in the darkness, for darkness was all he could see. And he found his lips widened…into an all too familiar smirk, knowing that the game of pretended slumbering had reached an end. He spoke:

"Kufufu. Don't be mistaken. I am not some little bird at your mercy to chirp at your whim."

Still, he doubted a certain 'little bird' would sing for anyone but his own will.

The other man chuckled.

"Ah, well, maybe not a bird."

Then he could hear sounds of clothes rustling, some very light footsteps and then, finally…

The owner of the chiming voice was whispering music in his ear. "How about a flower?"

The vaguely annoying musical sound was carried with a puff of warm breath that instead sent a chill he willed not to let show down his spine. The other man was so close that the air he inhaled was of fragrance of lilies instead of various other flowers the room was oh-so-generously perfumed with.

"As much as I appreciate sweet talk, don't you think comparing a man to a flower insults my masculinity?"

Another fit of melodic laughter filled the air and a warm, tender hand – so tender it was disgusting – was placed on his cheek. The warmth seeped through his pale skin like it was putrid poison to an already rotten corpse as that hand started to caress his face in what seemed to be a mocking endearment.

"You aren't scary to me, Mukuro-kun." Long, tapered fingers moved up and as soon as he could feel them lightly touching and covering his blindfold, they were removed…along with the little piece of cloth that had him kept with the color of absolute blackness he wished to see.

For when it was taken away, the first thing he could see was the color of gray. The grayness he so hated.

"You aren't a fool."

There was no blinding light.

"Is that relevant at all?" Mismatched eyes shifted from the dullness of the sky outside the orchid-adorned window to look for the first time at the man he had been speaking with for all these past minutes.

"You are a bit too resourceful for someone living in a tank, aren't you?"

The man before him was all too bright for his taste. White hair, white uniform, pale – not unhealthily pale – skin and bright smile, he was pristine white from head to toe. Still, there was something about him that said he was not so white albeit the external whiteness that could make him blind. He knew exactly who this man was.

"And I thought Millefiore's intelligence unit alone was resourceful enough." Mukuro smiled. The humor didn't reach those mismatched eyes, though.

It was going to rain soon.

"So why don't you tell me the whereabouts of Vongola's main base?" The leader of Millefiore asked in a sing-song voice.

……………………………………
…………………

"I have no idea. Why do you think that I would associate myself with the like of mafia?"

Byakuran's eyebrows lifted up in mocked surprise. Then his smile widened as his hand reached out to grab a handful of long blue tresses, marveling at the softness of them.

"Hmm... Given the information, even if it was, of course, indirect cause, if it weren't for the tenth Vongola, you wouldn't be put back into jail so quickly, would you?" The white haired-man said, bringing those beautiful tresses to his lips. "You have all the reasons to hate them."

Violet eyes gazed at the prisoner before him in both pity and appreciation. Pity not because he sympathized with the other's fate of eternal imprisonment but because he preferred beauties not to rot and die like some unappreciated flowers. It would be much better to have it appreciated first and then crushed under his boots. Delicacy's choice was nothing but to cling to his mercy.

"But you work for them."

Whatever he desired, he would have to have it…

"You're their mist guardian."

Whatever despised him, he would have it torn to pieces…

"Sawada Tsunayoshi is merely my target. Nothing more."

To achieve absolute power.

"Sawada-kun is already dead. I think the fact is clear enough." The leader of Millefiore offered, moving closer to cup the other's face gently. "You…are the type with so many secrets, aren't you?"

Mukuro lowered his eyelids as his smirk widened. "Kufufu. It's the same with how you love to fool people."

For a brief moment, the Millefiore boss' smile seemed to cease and the next moment, Mukuro found himself being yanked harshly by the hair toward the other's warm, solid body. The straps binding him to the bed protested vehemently as they tried to hold him back, constricting so tight it was almost suffocating.

"I like you."

A smile returned to the white haired-man's face; however, it didn't look so angelic and charming anymore as that vicious smile sealed the sweet words of spiteful retaliation just at the right time before they could leave the other's petal-soft lips.

A demon disguised in the form of an angel.

The taste of the kiss was as sweet as much as it was coppery as the false angel sank his fangs into those all-too-pale lips, breaking the delicate skin so that the appealing redness of blood could seep. Byakuran licked some of them away before drawing back to appreciate his captive's newly adorned lips.

"Beautiful." He breathed, so softly as if in fascination, wondering if he should make him bleed more just to see more of the lovely contrast – vivid red against pale white like a red, red rose on the snow. The word was merely a whisper of warm breath against beautifully bleeding lips – like a dream that always fleeted at the very first moment of awareness – before it could really be registered, those bloody lips were captured again like the prisoner their owner was.

Mukuro let himself sink back into the bed, feeling weight on him as the searful kiss deepened. He opened his mouth compliantly and let his tongue dance with the demon's, tasting the lingering essence of his own spilled blood. Despite the situation, this wasn't a game of capturer and prisoner.

This was a game of control.

There was no need to resist. It was just a game. It was just a kiss.

Just one lustful kiss that smelled so strongly of lilies instead of that familiar hateful one that always reminded him of scattering petals of cherry blossom.

Just a feeling of flesh gliding together. The sensation was there yet it was so fleeting…like a dream that was never real.

Human lives were all dreams. They started and ended and started again like an endless loop in which lives were meaningless.

Everything that could be seen, everything that could be touched, every feeling was…just an illusion.

"Ah…" A soft moan escaped the illusionist's lips, sounding so sweet yet meaningless like the hollow core of his long-living soul.

Memories of lives were nothing. This world meant nothing…

It should mean nothing.

Outside the window, the sky rumbled loudly…and then the first droplet of cold rain fell and hit the ground.

How he hated the rain…

Long, dark lashes lowered alluringly, casting shadow on his pale skin as he battled that naughty little tongue in his mouth.

He hated this raining world as much as the sky he always longed to see.

And as the need for air separated the two players away, it was the angel of insincere white that whispered:

"It seems we are more than just a little bit befitting, aren't we?" Byakuran smiled as he pulled at the straps. They were of no need now. Well, actually, he didn't really need it in the first place.

There was no love…

"Don't be mistaken. I just enjoy playing games." There was a dangerous glint in those mismatched eyes despite the temptingly flushed face and the smile plastering on those blood-stained lips. The Vongola's mist guardian lay back for more comfort as he licked his lips and waited, looking utterly at ease, for all the straps to be removed.

For everything…should be painted black.

"You should already have been aware of the situation."

"…" Mukuro's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew what the other man was talking about. He could already feel it the moment the blindfold was taken away. Walling unyieldingly around his consciousness, blocking any exit of thought from this room was an invisible barrier that cut off his current being from the outside world.

Still, he lied. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

The world that he loved to hate.

"I'm saying that you are unable to escape here." Byakuran confirmed as he successfully got rid of the last strap, leaving the Vendicare's gift of old metallic chains as the only thing binding Mukuro's thin limbs. "Without my permission."

On hearing that, Mukuro laughed. The sardonic sound betrayed the gentleness of his face.

"Aside from selfish arrogance, I didn't know you also resort to dictatorship."

Clink.

The heavy chains made a clink-clank sound as Byakuran heaved the blue haired-man up. The Vendicare only treated their prisoners to survive the extension of their sentenced lives, so it was of no need to keep the criminals healthy. His captive was so frail and light it was a little bit surprising for a creature deemed dangerous and convicted. The ragged clothes he had been wearing for so long had become so loose that it slipped off one thin shoulder, revealing more dreadfully pale skin as white as a corpse.

"Well, well, Mukuro-kun, don't you think our goals are…mutually exclusive?" The white haired-man asked, lips ghosting over sinfully soft skin of delicious white throat, taking in the exotic scent that was unlike any flowers he had learned to appreciate and crush that belonged solely to this forbidden child.

"We both strive for Utopia. There is no reason to mourn the gone bright sky when we can dye the color we desire ourselves."

The bloody sky.

"…You are no angel." The illusionist whispered, feeling his sensitive skin trembled involuntarily against those teasing lips. "And I don't need your merit."

"And you aren't a Bodhisattva." Byakuran said before hurling the man in his grab across the room.

The blue haired-man fell disgracefully – even more so as his poor legs that hadn't been in function for so long couldn't support him – crashing a porcelain vase of blooming daffodils in the process.

Daffodil…pride. How ironic.

"Also, I am pretty generous with my merit." The white haired-man smiled as he crouched down next to his victim, picking the shattered pieces of luxurious vase with his fingers.

A twisted, fallen angel trying to play god.

"It could be either on the bed or on the floor. Your decision, Mukuro-kun."

The rain was getting heavier and heavier. It didn't seem to stop so easily as the pitter-patter sound drummed so frequently everything outside was incoherent. Still, it was amusingly strange that he could hear the chanting of alleluia, supposedly from the village's church, so clearly it should instead be his hallucination.

Laus tibi, Domine, rex aeternae gloriae...

A smile graced his blood-adorn lips as a little piece of broken vase cut into his skin.

"Praise to thee, O Lord, king of eternal glory…I wish you soon fall and meet your doom."

—To Be Continued—
Because I don't need your merit.

Honestly, I quite like it when the seme and the uke are both twisted. I think that's why I seem to like this pairing so much even though the cause of it is just...that little encounter between them (ch.168-169) in the manga. (But again, I tend to like weird pairings.)

As far as I am concerned, Mukuro is someone who likes to be in control and seeing what he did to Lanchia has me think that being in control doesn't require him to always top. (Because even if it is possible, the idea of Lanchia being uke is really, really scary, to me at least.) However, if you take control away from him, Mukuro that is, that will be completely another story.

Actually, I still shouldn't be calling Mukuro 'uke' in this fic because even with such 'loving' situation I put him in, I'm positive that he's mentally seme. But that's where the fun is because years of absence from writing English fics do not mean I've become less evil. XP

Anyway, thank you for your reviews on the prologue, xfobgirl and sinisterblood. (Yes, this fic uses to be only in my LJ but as I have already said in the previous chapter, I have decided to dust off this account and post the fic here too.)

Again, reviews are very much loved. X3