after a relationship that'd thus far been heavy on the physical side and near-empty on the genuinely emotional - tsuna, mukuro, gokudera, and enma having a tearful near-breakdown after their s/o just barely makes it out alive after an attack that should've killed them?
But it felt like a lifetime.
Intuition buzzing anxiously underneath his skin, irritating him as he smiled at the other boss who he could just taste the acid from just the flames alone. The burning, and bitter, flames that washed over his senses like hot tar on his skin. It irritated him, but Tsuna simply smiled, eyes a little pinched at the corners as he watched the man.
Then it roared, and he felt more than heard the bullet, felt more than noticed the startled but raging flames of his Guardians, and then the shock that settled in when he felt no pain. Instead, eyes wide in surprise as the blood of another slashed at the other, coating his suit, and small, fragile hands sliding over his chest. He watched, a little perturbed as you fell to the floor, not even a sound made from your throat.
It was second’s and yet, it felt like a lifetime when Tsuna's heart lodged itself in his throat, settled there and making it so hard to breathe. A lifetime as he realized you were on the floor, bleeding and dying as the storm inflamed bullet ate away at your insides and created havoc to your systems.
But it was only seconds and Tsuna had already dispatched most of the other boss's people who tried to come at him. The boss himself was being contained by Chrome, the sweet-faced Mist whose eye was enraged because that was –
Tsuna was upon you before he even realized he was on his knees, hands gently pulling you into his lap where he whispered softly that you would be just fine. He could see the pain twisted on your face, could see the unfocused haze in your eyes as you tried so hard to breathe through sharp, inhaled puffs from your lips.
"You idiot," Tsuna hissed, "Why would you do that to yourself?"
He didn't expect an answer in all honesty, but it was as if it had brought you back to attention, turning your head to look at him. Pale-faced and trembling, and there was blood coating the inside of your mouth and down the curve of your lips.
You huffed out a small, warbling laugh, "I... I had a duty of care."
"I didn’t ask you to," Tsuna said, voice strangely thick with emotion.
"You shouldn’t have to ask." You said, looking at him as if he were an idiot. And there was something there glittering in your eyes aside from the wet sheen of tears. A realization that was making its way into your head before you turned away, lips pressing together into a slight grimace.
Tsuna smoothed your hair gently, coaxing you to turn back to him.
(Why was there a tightness in his chest? Pain in the back of his throat, sore from whispering into your ear, begging for you to stay awake for him, to not close your eyes, to breathe, and to not –)
Your breath was sawing in and out in pain, and for a moment your glassy eyes seemed to lose their shine. His heart jumped heavily into his throat, lodging painfully there as your name broke out from his lips.
There was nothing between the two of you.
Nothing but a physical attraction that was only skin deep.
So why did the sound of your laughter haunt him, ringing in his ears now? Why did it feel as if you were suddenly leaving him too soon – not ready, not ready, not yet –)
Hands tried to reach out to take you from him, and he snarled, gaze darting towards Ryohei with a feverish glare. He was speaking softly, calmingly to Tsuna, and when Tsuna refused to let you go he instead dragged a flame infused hand to your chest, pressing it stiffly there. A short, strong pulse and you jerked, gasping in surprise.
"Tsuna," Ryohei murmured, "We need to take her now. My flames aren't going to be enough."
(Letting him drag you out of his hands was strangely painful, and his hands twitched, wanting to reach back out, desperate for your warmth.)
Tsuna didn't know why but it was so painful to see you disappear with Ryohei, others quickly swarming in upon the two, while he was left behind with the haggard boss tied right at his feet by Gokudera. His jaw clenched and he looked downwards, hot anger boiling at his chest when he noticed the haggard and pale complexion of the other before him.
"Oh. I'm angry," He realized, startled by this fact. He pondered over this feeling, eyes narrowing before he smiled unpleasantly at the other boss that was beginning to hyperventilate. "That's sort of new. I've never felt like that for her."
Tsuna clicked his tongue and made a gesture to Chrome. She bowed her head and disappeared with the man.
He rubbed his chin, before grimacing when the scent of iron hit his nose. Oh. The blood from your –
Tsuna breathed out steadily, urging the swarming, suddenly irrational thoughts in his head to calm.
(Desperate thoughts that screamed at him, of fearful whispers that Ryohei had almost not made it, that the infused flame bullet had hit too close to something vital, and you would –
"It's not too late." He assured himself, but he wasn’t quite certain for what he meant it for.
His eyes were the most unique part of him.
It was his eyes, the colour of them that had drawn you in.
Not his name, not his face, but his eyes and the deep colour of them.
A flinty blue, the colour of berries or perhaps navy, so much more different to the other one. It wasn’t a blue colour, not that odd deep blue that drew you in like the turbulent waves of an ocean. The other was instead a red colour. Not perfectly crimson and not perfectly a carmine colour, and sometimes flashing a candy apple red, the freshest kind. Of a red that changed constantly.
The strangest but prettiest eyes you had ever seen.
It was this that brought you to him, never seeking the name he carried against his chest as stained as his story, nor the face that was quite handsome if one stopped to look, to peer past the curled lips filled with devious mischief. You cared nothing for them, but his eyes, such pretty things that stared at you with quiet contemplation.
Even when his hands wandered across your body, leaving trails of warmth against your goosebump flesh. Heart beating fast in your chest when his lips drew over your bare skin, touching and tracing every part of you that felt too intimate (those eyes caging you to the bed with just a single look, leaving you shuddering underneath him).
But now there was a colour not dissimilar to the red and blue of his eyes.
This sticky colour of deep red staining the almost perfect blue of your dress. More mahogany than anything else, and turning darker the longer the blood slipped past your trembling pale fingers.
You couldn’t tell what happened. Only the barest sense of flickering joy bubbling in your belly before sudden pain lodged itself deep, startling you stiff. Your hands pressed to the wound in curious confusion before the reality hit you and you shuffled back a step or two. Your eyes drifted upwards to see his him staring, his posture completely rigid, lips just the lightest bit parted before rage contorted his face.
The blue of his eye seemed to shift into a crippling azure, blazing just as deeply as the red that flashed a chilling scarlet.
It happened so fast. The screaming and then the small cold hands of someone pulling you backwards, away from the carnage you can hear ringing around you. You could barely make out Chrome leading you away, your vision fuzzing at the edges as you tried to hold onto her. Her voice a muffled reassurance at the back of your head.
You weren't certain when you were laid backwards, too warm flames seeping into your body, slithering into every nook and cranny of your being before swarming around the room that continued to bleed. The pain slowly fading away as it was being healed, the heat blistering and uncomfortable all the while.
A familiar cool hand settled against your forehead, not perfectly warm like the hands healing you and not perfectly cold like Chrome's whose hand gently rubbed reassuring circles into your ankle. You looked up to see Mukuro next to you, his expression stilted into a carefully blank canvas. When the uncomfortable warmth faded, hearing the footsteps fade behind a closing door, his face crumbled.
His breath whooshed out sharply from his lips, and you noticed that the colour changed again, more of a cobalt than the cold, raging blue from before, and the red as well had settled between Maroon and a faded vermillion.
You reached out, gently running your fingers just underneath his eye, watching, curiously as you seemed to shudder. His eyes closed as he leaned forwards.
"I didn't expect that," You mumbled, not explaining further. But you were certain he understood just from the way he frowned, eyes opening into slits as he gazed at you.
"...Neither did I." He admitted, and he didn’t have to say anything further. You didn’t expect him to, his eyes were enough to tell everything, and you watched, taking in the way they seemed to soften just the slightest bit around the corners, all the answer you would ever need.
But you had noticed it first before he did, and the anger that bubbled at your chest had stolen away your moment of sanity as your body moved forwards, hand lashing out to steal away the poisoned drink and tittering at him (ignoring his flushed cheeks and the pinching of his eyes as he turned to you) that it was for you and 'thank you for everything, puppy' before pulling back your head and downing it in one swift gulp.
It felt like acid burning against the inside of your throat, immediately destroying the flesh and drowning you in the blood that came after it. You heaved, unable to stop your hand from dropping the cup that shattered to the floor, from your arm twisting protectively around your stomach while the other pressed a hand against your mouth as if to stop yourself from vomiting the poison, the blood, and the anguished cry from your lips.
It was an odd choice of poison, but the smell of it was distinguishable. It had caught your attention the moment you had noticed it in his hand, sitting innocently there as if it wouldn't take his life.
Why did you take it from his hands when it could have just stayed there, could have been him instead – and just as quickly as the thought came, so did the denial and the regret of such a thought. It pained you for some reason, just thinking of Gokudera in this pain, choking away like you were right now, falling to his knees in the same painful crumble. It pained you so much more than the acid-like poison that was crawling down your throat and straight into your stomach.
But I don’t want him to die.
You wanted to curse, but it came out more as a gurgle. You also wanted to glare at Gokudera and maybe flick him the finger, but your vision was sort of blurry with tears, and your limbs felt a little too heavy to muster up anything than curling around your body. You were a little too hesitant on letting go, the pain of your body heaving without pause becoming very painful. The stray thought of coughing up your stomach was very plausible. Actually, it was enterally plausible as you were certain that bit of meat that had slipped off your tongue had not been food that had yet to be digested.
In the back of your head you were certain you could hear panicking, and perhaps even feel warm hands against your back, and another set pulling at your hair so it wouldn’t get caught from the disgusting mess that was now becoming your insides-to-your-outsides.
Your body was trembling, and you were certain you were crying somewhere in-between the gagging sounds and the gurgling pain.
You thought you could hear Gokudera speaking softly to you, as soft and reassuring as he could through his grinding teeth. It sounded sort of stressful, honestly, and a little fearful. You tried to look up, blinking through the tears. But you barely made out his figure, only noticing the edging silver in your vision and the fact his arm was moving soothingly across your back before you were returning to choking on your very life.
You thought you felt his flames seeping into your body digging deep, searching for the poison in your systems. But you supposed that might have been wishful thinking as you dropped into the blackness of oblivion.
Your stare was defiant, tired and so very defiant. "And what would be the alternative?" You asked, voice raspy and thick with sleep, and if he listened closely, flinching pain. He grimaced but you ignored his expression, continuing on with, "Me standing over your grave?"
He almost wanted to stand up and shake you, demanding the same thing, of what made you think I'd prefer standing over yours? But he didn’t. Instead, he breathed in slowly, trying to keep his racing heart settled in his chest. But it stilled thumped with dull pain, making him press a hand to his chest as he settled back in his chair.
He hadn't ever thought about it, of you ever dying. But he had been certain he wouldn't have particularly cared. After all, the lines were crossed from the very beginning. There would be nothing to change it.
At least, that was what Enma had assumed.
The relationship between the two of you had been nothing but physical, it should have stayed physical.
Yet somewhere along the way he had allowed himself to open just a little too much, just to have a taste of the heart underneath the body he divulged himself to, to understand this person whom he had only ever known behind the closed door of his room, only seeing so far to the bare flesh and the sounds of your ecstatic, wanting cries. But never more, until he did so without thought, without conscious and never realized until that fear had settled in his chest.
Of you almost dying, did die, and the short-lived anguish he had felt from that last breath almost sending him to his knees before your heart jumped back to life and he felt such strong hope. He had never prayed so hard in his life before. Not until that moment he almost – had – did – lose you.
"Don't do that again." He said. His voice enlaced with every inch of the mafia boss he had become. Of the same voice that had most men warily eye him, shifting uneasily with thoughts that Enma was not a man to cross.
You instead rolled your eyes at him, and Enma almost deflated. He wondered if he should be glad you didn’t cower at the face of the mafia boss or feel a little insulted that you weren't even just the tiniest bit worried for your life considering the fact Enma had made it clear from the very start there would be no emotional attachments between either of you.
He failed that spectacularly of course, but the point still stood.
(Even if Enma vowed that he would protect you better, and vaguely began planning ideas to turn this 'relationship' into a more ideal sort of relationship that was filled with a little more affection than just physical wanting.)
He rubbed his temples slowly, muttering to himself.
"Oh, come off it, Enma," You scoffed, sending him a short, unimpressed glare. "Go put your frustrations into some other girls –"
