Sometimes I think about Mukuro lying between Tsuna and Chrome, staring at Tsuna’s face, and he shuts his eyes and sees a moment that wasn’t his to know, of a similar scene from Spade’s point of view, a remnant of the attempted possession when his body hadn’t been his anymore, his soul left with no place to roost. A picnic, late spring, the sunshine making Giotto’s hair glow like a halo and the hand of a woman ‘he’ loves in his own
This connection between them really sucks.
The placements are almost the same, even if he’s in a bed and not a lush field of grass with a blanket beneath them, and he supposes that’s what brought the memory forth
He opens his eyes again and puffs a laugh through his nose
“You’re drooling, you idiot…”
His Tsunayoshi could never look so majestic while sleeping
