—
twenty-one—connection.
—
Her cellphone rings at three in the morning. It's loud in her ears as she reaches around her headboard for it, grumbling to herself. Of course, once her fingers wrap around the cellular device, she tumbles to the floor in a heap of flowery sheets and human limbs. When she recovers, she picks up the call, and narrows her eyes at the earpiece.
"You just made me fall out of bed, telemarketer, so this had better be good." There's a slight breath on the mouthpiece from the other end—Haru pauses, uncertain of who, or what is talking to her. She just hopes it's not the Mafia.
"Haru."
Her eyes close. Of course, it'd be Sawada Tsunayoshi calling at this ungodly hour. She knows the lilts and rises of his voice like the back of her hand. "Why are you calling, Tsuna-san, it's three in the morning."
He's never called her at this time before. He's never called her. Never—she's not kidding. This comes as a shock to her, simply because it's her crush on the other line, and she's not dressed, and her beauty sleep has been stolen from her, and all sorts of other ungodly things at this ungodly hour. His breathing is steady, melodic, almost as comforting as the wind blowing against her windowpane.
She wonders if he's flying.
"Reborn told me you're—"
Haru cuts him off. She has a feeling this is all a part of some Mafia-esque scheme of Reborn's and is mentally damning the infant to hell and back. "What did Reborn-chan tell you?"
"—dating someone," he finishes.
Suddenly, she's up off the floor, on her feet, running her fingers through her thick chocolate-brown locks. She's not sure what's brought all this on—yes, Reborn can be a convincing little devil child when he wants to be, but since when has Sawada Tsunayoshi given much thought about Haru's love life? Or love in general?
Yeah, he's definitely sleep-deprived.
"No. You and I are not going to have this conversation, Tsuna-san. I am going to go back to bed, pretend this is all a dream, and when I wake back up again, I am going to cobble up some boots to kick Reborn-chan's butt. End of story," she hisses into the mouthpiece.
There's silence.
Then:
"Haru."
Only her name.
And all of the fire dissipates.
She tumbles back to the floor again, and slides her face into her palm. She's definitely going to be insane by the time she hits twenty, hell, everyone's going to be insane by the time they hit twenty, she's absolutely positive Hibari's already there, maybe Hayato too.
"Fine. I won't beat you, or Reborn-chan. But you will hear about this later." She hears him smile—she thinks she can, considering the wind's quiet now on her window casement.
There's a soft tap on her roof, and it startles her.
"Who?" he asks. She blinks, and rises from the floor again, crossing the room to the window and glancing out of the glass square. There's nothing—except for a faint orange glow beaming from the backside of her house, toward the southern horizon.
"What?"
He sighs, "Who, Haru?"
His tone means to smother her fire once more.
"Takeshi-kun," she answers after a moment, settling down on the window seat, and propping her knees up against her chest. It's true—she likes Takeshi. He's goofy, and sunny, but he's—well. Naturally, he's not Tsunayoshi.
And that makes all the difference between happiness, and just for now.
"I see."
"Yeah, he took me out to the ice cream shop today, and we had fun," she says, blowing air over her newly clipped nails. She hopes its stabbing him over and over again—her tone grows sour, "How about you and Kyouko-chan? Did you have fun today?"
His breath catches—he's finally under pressure.
"She enjoyed herself, I suppose," he replies, his voice remaining smooth, and steady, despite the fact that Haru knows it's killing him inside—her silent implication that she's angry with him, that she's bitter and cold, and pissed that he woke her up at three in the morning just to ask who her date was.
Honestly.
She sees a golden opportunity, and like the resourceful woman she is, she doesn't hesitate. "And what about you, Sawada Tsunayoshi?"
There's another tap on her roof—three more, tap, tap, tap. They sound like footsteps through the ceiling, and though Haru is afraid, barely dressed, and ravenous for some tea—suddenly, she's thirsty for hot tea—she doesn't hesitate to slide from her window seat, and pull on her gray cardigan to cover her lacy nightdress, and stroll into her hallway.
He finally speaks again. "I enjoyed myself as well."
"Well, I'm glad you had fun, at least," she drawls, leaning up against the doorframe. There's tension, maybe shifting on the other end of the line. There are more taps on her roof, and if Haru listens carefully, they sound like they're moving somewhere. So, she takes another step, and begins to follow them. "Where are you now?"
"Playing video games with Lambo." She curves her lip up, and smiles to herself. It's not in his capacity to lie—at least, that's what she thought. Then again, if the thing on her roof isn't Tsunayoshi, then, well, she wouldn't be teasing him anymore.
"I don't hear him."
Another tap. "He's asleep."
She follows suit. "Then you aren't playing with him if he's asleep, are you, Tsuna-san?"
When a flurry of footfalls erupts from the roof above her, she has to barrel down the hallway, and listen closely to the direction the steps are leading her towards. She slides into her kitchenette, her eyes closing, her phone falling from her ear—one breath, two breaths, three breaths, his footsteps are gone. They're gone.
She glances all around her, straining for signs of something being there—she doesn't care if it's Hibari being on one of his night patrols, or the Varia raising hell down the street—but the only thing that announces something's presence to her, is the pat of shoes hitting the steps outside her door, and the screeching hum of what sounds like deathperation flames.
The door opens just as she reaches for it, revealing a winded—and blazing-eyed—Sawada Tsunayoshi to her sight, his gloves fading away into mittens, his flames blowing from his forehead, his orange, orange eyes dissipating into warm, caramel human ones in one of her heartbeats. He's flushed rosy with the cold, and when the wind hits her bare legs, a reaction crosses his face, and he steps into her flat, shutting the door behind him, and reaching for his headphones to push a button.
She glances at her phone, noting the flashing red box—end of call.
"Do I, get an explanation or something, Tsuna-san?" He doesn't answer. He just stares at her. One, two, three, four breaths pass, and she gives up. "I'm guessing no. Tea?"
There's no response.
(Is it too late to write off the idea that he's switched bodies with Hibari?)
She pours them both some tea. She stirs in her cinnamon and honey with extra care, smiling to herself when the scent drifts up to cloud and fog her senses. She hands him a cup of his own, noticing that he's managed to find the table in the darkness, and she wanders back to the hallway to flip the lights on.
When the lights brighten the contours of his face, she wobbles where she stands. She hopes he doesn't notice.
When his eyes flicker, she knows he does.
Haru tilts her head, and sits down next to him—close, but not touching. Steam rises from their cups of tea, and Tsunayoshi takes the first sip.
"Are you alright?" she asks, wanting to fill the silence.
He doesn't answer her, just flicks her a glance from the corner of his eye—wary, just like she is. She hates that she has to be on guard with him. She wishes she could rewind time and restart this conversation, beginning with her falling face-first onto her floor.
She glances away after a few moments, but it's the touch of his fingertips on her face that brings her back. He parts her wavy chocolate-colored hair back behind her ear, and doesn't pull away.
Haru stops still. Raises her eyes.
He kisses her like he's burning.
It feels like flying, and she fists his shirt in her hand, because she knows if she doesn't catch herself, she'll crash and crave until she hits the earth and it'll hurt. It's like a pair of wings and Tsunayoshi's her wind, the only push she could ever want or need.
Haru trembles with her eyes shut. "This is really romantic, Tsuna-san."
He smiles, and she can feel it breathing against the surface of her lips.
Their tea cups lose their warmth on the tabletop, neglected.
.
end.
notes: I owe the credit for this drabble/one-shot as well as style of writing to sarsaparillia, as well as her AU SasuSaku, surprisingly. Read her stories. I promise you that you won't regret it, 'cause I sure as hell don't. Anyway, thanks for the feedback, guys. Keep it up?