So, another Reborn time travels drabble I unearthed. Not edited or revised as usual so please bear the cringey parts.
Reborn dies.
It isn't an exaggeration to say that at least a few dozen people regularly fantasize about this very moment. Neither would it be, to say that most likely not a single one had imagined that he would go out in his sleep.
He certainly didn't.
Now Reborn dies quietly, silently, in his sleep, poison in his very Flames, cursing the white haired bastard in the afterlife.
-"You are evil." Skull pouts.
Reborn blinks, mind scrambling to catch up with what the hell is happening, he's dead and so is Skull actually so why does he feel very much not dead because ow, the coffee is burning his hand.
He drops the mug, the dark liquid spilling into the carpet.
"...Renato?"
Renato. He hasn't heard that name since forever. He looks up to see Skull frozen midact with a hand inside the cabinet, staring at him with raised brows. He's dressed down out of his leather suit and in a familiar worn set of shirt and trouser, his face clear of make up, the purple tear drop tattoo on his cheek standing out strikingly against his natural paper white skin.
The afterlife. It makes sense, to be met by Skull, being the first of them to go.
His breath catch in his throat because that means the others might be here too. Here, where they, as a group, began and ended.
He recognizes the stove and the sink and the island in the centre of the room and the scent of cinnamon -Luce puts cinnamon in pretty much everything.
And also- "Why am I evil?"
It makes sense though. That his first words to the Sun after everything that has happened is an accusation.
All the words that no one spoke but everyone could hear. Blame. Hate. Grief.
He recalls, vividly, that moment Viper stood up and just left.
It had taken them at least a few days to realize that they weren't coming back. And the others just followed.
Things that should've been discussed, fingers that should've been pointed, anger that would've been vented -all of it left to simmer.
Viper had saved them the opportunity to wade through the problem as a family but also from the tragedy that would've come out of too sharp words that everyone would've thrown around but no one would actually mean.
In hindsight it was the right move. Now if only they followed that up by talking after everyone's temper had already cooled down.
But hindsight is always too late.
"...are you alright?"
"Why am I evil?"
He wants to hear it. He's reached the end and he wants to know where he went wrong - because there is no question.
He knows it was him who'd been the catalyst to the lines drawn between them like a gaping canyon -a not so imaginary border.
There's no place for denial in Limbo. There can't be.
At the very least, at the end of his life he wants to hear it said aloud.
Skull retrieves a jar of dried mango, sliding the cupboard door close, blinking at him in bemusement, and Renato tries not to be sick at the stark contrast of the Skull across him and the one that he'd become after the curse. For one, this Skull doesn't look at him with a fear concealed in the shadows of his eyes.
A fear born of hatred etched into his very identity as a Cloud chained down against his will.
"...seriously, is something wrong-?"
"Just tell me!" he blurts out, shooting up to his feet impatiently, sending the chair -he only distantly noted that he had been sitting down, apparently- toppling back.
His eyes widen, hands going up and the jar pressed to his chest as he jumps.
"Renato, dude, what the fuck?!"
He stiffen, turning to the door where Colonello stares at him in shock.
"...oh. You're here too?" He muttered, dazed.
"...uh?" Colonnello glanced in askance at Skull, who shrugged and inched his way towards the blond with his jar, "Yeah? As I've been. Since a week ago. As you, know."
Reborn blinks at them.
An outlandish notion suddenly begins taking shape.
"... say, you two... what's the date?"
"Huh?" Skull grunts, twisting the cap of the jar.
"September thirteen... nineteen thirty nine." Colonnello finishes under Reborn's intense gaze, ambling towards the refrigerator to take out a pitcher of cold water.
"Why? What for? Did you have some kind of appointment?"
He isn't listening through.
An odd ringing in his ears drowning the rest of the world.
Holy. Fuck.