[khr!][31_Days] Drink!Red
Title: Drink!Red
Author: kayono (ffn) / mecomptane (lj)
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Verse: Strange World
Day/Prompt: January 25 / "The thrill of blood comes instantly"
Rating: Hmmm... T / PG-13 verging on M / R / whatever it's called
Characters: Tsuna, Gokudera, Yamamoto, 802759, various (dead) people
Warnings: Violence. Srsly.
Summary: Overindulgence has yet to be called a "virtue" for a reason.
Somehow, he isn't surprised that he wakes to an empty bed just after sunrise, nor to the take-out breakfast cooling on the kitchen counter or the note that says, "We'll pick you up after work. Have a good day."
He makes it to work early (earlier than even his boss, which is saying something), starts on work early, finishes processing his stack of documents early. He takes an early lunch (just a quick sandwich) and returns to work even earlier than he should.
"You seem abnormally happy and productive today," the coworker in the next cubicle comments, sticking his head over the divider between them. "Anything interesting happen?"
Tsuna pauses at that, taking a second to remember the note and the food and just the idea that there's someone else in his life now, and instead of answering truthfully he shrugs and turns to the new pile of documents that need revision. "Nope."
"Hm... you sure?" His coworker doesn't want to let the conversation drop (and it's only now that Tsuna realizes that it's the normal lunchtime, so said coworker probably won't be going away for a while yet). "Looks to me like you got laid or something."
Tsuna chokes and spazzes and flails, something everyone in their office is familiar with by now, and is only able to get himself under control when said coworker asks again, "Well? Did you?"
"Ack, NO." He almost feels like flailing again. "I just... had a really good sleep."
"Uh huh?" But the other finally seems ready to let it go. "Guess it makes sense. I can't see someone like you having a bed partner, even for a one night stand." And he walks away and leaves Tsuna to his work, except now Tsuna doesn't work, or not as fast. His mind is filled with "what ifs" and "maybes", and he thinks that he might agree with his coworker--he's not really the type of person that other people want to spend time with. He's a klutz, and an idiot, and ignorant about a lot of things, and--well, now he's starting to wonder why, exactly, his two new friends/roommates/whatever they were even paid attention to him.
And so he starts thinking that, surely, whatever he is supposed to be isn't so impressive to allow them to overlook all his (countless) flaws.
He finishes his documents early, though not as early as he would have without the self-depreciating thoughts swimming in the forefront of his mind, and decides not to wait. There's no way that Gokudera and Yamamoto would stop by... they'd probably already left town and wouldn't be back for another month, and then just to sleep. He's probably only useful to them as a temporary cheap residence (can't forget the food they buy him), and that's it.
There's no one waiting for him outside (he's not sure whether to think it's because he's early or because they really aren't going to be there), and instead of heading straight home to a painfully empty apartment he instead opts for wandering the streets until he feels tired enough to collapse.
Which is how he finds himself down a back alley near to his building and the late-night-all-night diner at two in the morning, only slightly tired and now running almost entirely off adrenaline from the large number of people that have decided to corner him with weapons and cruel grins and harsh words and, apparently, even harsher plans. Wide amber eyes glance quickly at the opponents, knowing he would fall against even one of them, let alone nine.
"So, boys," one of the biggest says, growling out the words with a slur that might be normal or might be alcohol, "what are we going to do with this little boy here?"
"I think he needs to be punished for being out past his bedtime," another says, words muffled around a joint that's nearly down to nothing.
The rest of the gang members or thugs or whatever they are cheer and agree, and Tsuna starts wishing that he had waited, useless or not. A broken heart would be better than a broken body.......
But, as the first big thug raises a crow bar for the first swing, Tsuna realizes that it really doesn't matter. If Gokudera and Yamamoto are right (and that's a BIG if), he's already died once and been forced back into life. Even if he dies now (and stays dead, but who's to say he won't be resurrected again?), he's really just been living on borrowed time.
As Haru likes to point out, grunge workers are dead workers, so there's really nothing to be afraid of.
Except pain, Tsuna corrects mentally when the crowbar connects with his arm, the sound of something snapping and shattering and the crunch of bone breaking echoing eerily down the alley. Yes, pain is definitely unpleasant.
And then it's just a torrent of pain, one wave crashing instantaneously after another, and all Tsuna can concentrate on is pain, pain, hurt, pain, hurt, break, blood. Red, dark red, black, brown, purple, pink, in his hair and eyes and over his clothes and the ground and the weapons, weapons still raining down pain on his body, body still breaking, still crashing, still bleeding, blood getting everywhere....
A distant part of Tsuna's mind thinks it's interesting how he's losing so much blood--too much blood, far too much--and no one notices or cares. Most notably of those ignoring the blood is Tsuna himself--or, Tsuna's body. So much gone, so much wasted, so much still spilling, but he's still moving, still breathing, still thinking coherently except for the pain.
It might be the adrenaline rush, or what's left of it.
Or, maybe dying and resurrection have added benefits?
The big guy that started all this off stops it, bends down and picks Tsuna up by his collar, eyes the beaten and bloody and mangled form. "Well, shrimp?"
Tsuna doesn't know what the other wants him to say, still isn't sure why he was attacked besides crossing the thug's path. So he doesn't say anything, just looks up and up and up, and suddenly he's eye-to-eye with the thug, and, just like with Gokudera, the memories come crashing down on him. Memories and emotions and thoughts and ideas, and at first Tsuna thinks the person before him is rather pitiful, seeing the many foster homes and abusive foster parents, and he thinks that maybe there's something to save in this person.
But then the memories continue, and it's not the thug being tormented, it's the thug tormenting, learning the smell of blood and the crunch of bones and the feel of death, and enjoying every minute of it. After that, all that, all the victims and the trials and the bribes and the paroles, after the obsession with blood, Tsuna thinks that, maybe, there isn't anything left to save.
He can taste his own blood in his mouth, see how the thug watches how his blood drips to the ground, can still feel the obsession, the draw, the compulsion the lifeblood has on the big thug, and--
And then it's red, red, darkredblackbrownpurplepinkRED, and if there's sound or screams or feeling there's not, nothing for him, just the sight and taste and smell of redredblood, and then there's... not. At all.
"Tsuna!"
Nothing. No more blood.
...where did the blood go?
"Tsuna...."
There had been so much blood. It couldn't have just disappeared, right? Where did it go?
"Tsuna."
And... why is he wet? Did it start to rain? But there's no puddles on the ground. And what about--
"Tsuna!"
The slap across his face is what wakes him from his daze, eyes--amber--turning and staring, wide and fearful, seeing only clear brown and silver-green that he thinks he's familiar with, but... but...!
"Oh, God," he chokes out, collapsing into a pair of warmstrongkind arms, feeling them wrap around him carefully and tenderly and--oh, right, he's still injured. But... wasn't his arm broken at minimum? Why...?
"Tsuna," a voice calls, and he wants to lift his head but can't, can't look, can't see, can't breathe.
And then there's black, black, dark night, and all he sees is stars.
Author: kayono (ffn) / mecomptane (lj)
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Verse: Strange World
Day/Prompt: January 25 / "The thrill of blood comes instantly"
Rating: Hmmm... T / PG-13 verging on M / R / whatever it's called
Characters: Tsuna, Gokudera, Yamamoto, 802759, various (dead) people
Warnings: Violence. Srsly.
Summary: Overindulgence has yet to be called a "virtue" for a reason.
Somehow, he isn't surprised that he wakes to an empty bed just after sunrise, nor to the take-out breakfast cooling on the kitchen counter or the note that says, "We'll pick you up after work. Have a good day."
He makes it to work early (earlier than even his boss, which is saying something), starts on work early, finishes processing his stack of documents early. He takes an early lunch (just a quick sandwich) and returns to work even earlier than he should.
"You seem abnormally happy and productive today," the coworker in the next cubicle comments, sticking his head over the divider between them. "Anything interesting happen?"
Tsuna pauses at that, taking a second to remember the note and the food and just the idea that there's someone else in his life now, and instead of answering truthfully he shrugs and turns to the new pile of documents that need revision. "Nope."
"Hm... you sure?" His coworker doesn't want to let the conversation drop (and it's only now that Tsuna realizes that it's the normal lunchtime, so said coworker probably won't be going away for a while yet). "Looks to me like you got laid or something."
Tsuna chokes and spazzes and flails, something everyone in their office is familiar with by now, and is only able to get himself under control when said coworker asks again, "Well? Did you?"
"Ack, NO." He almost feels like flailing again. "I just... had a really good sleep."
"Uh huh?" But the other finally seems ready to let it go. "Guess it makes sense. I can't see someone like you having a bed partner, even for a one night stand." And he walks away and leaves Tsuna to his work, except now Tsuna doesn't work, or not as fast. His mind is filled with "what ifs" and "maybes", and he thinks that he might agree with his coworker--he's not really the type of person that other people want to spend time with. He's a klutz, and an idiot, and ignorant about a lot of things, and--well, now he's starting to wonder why, exactly, his two new friends/roommates/whatever they were even paid attention to him.
And so he starts thinking that, surely, whatever he is supposed to be isn't so impressive to allow them to overlook all his (countless) flaws.
He finishes his documents early, though not as early as he would have without the self-depreciating thoughts swimming in the forefront of his mind, and decides not to wait. There's no way that Gokudera and Yamamoto would stop by... they'd probably already left town and wouldn't be back for another month, and then just to sleep. He's probably only useful to them as a temporary cheap residence (can't forget the food they buy him), and that's it.
There's no one waiting for him outside (he's not sure whether to think it's because he's early or because they really aren't going to be there), and instead of heading straight home to a painfully empty apartment he instead opts for wandering the streets until he feels tired enough to collapse.
Which is how he finds himself down a back alley near to his building and the late-night-all-night diner at two in the morning, only slightly tired and now running almost entirely off adrenaline from the large number of people that have decided to corner him with weapons and cruel grins and harsh words and, apparently, even harsher plans. Wide amber eyes glance quickly at the opponents, knowing he would fall against even one of them, let alone nine.
"So, boys," one of the biggest says, growling out the words with a slur that might be normal or might be alcohol, "what are we going to do with this little boy here?"
"I think he needs to be punished for being out past his bedtime," another says, words muffled around a joint that's nearly down to nothing.
The rest of the gang members or thugs or whatever they are cheer and agree, and Tsuna starts wishing that he had waited, useless or not. A broken heart would be better than a broken body.......
But, as the first big thug raises a crow bar for the first swing, Tsuna realizes that it really doesn't matter. If Gokudera and Yamamoto are right (and that's a BIG if), he's already died once and been forced back into life. Even if he dies now (and stays dead, but who's to say he won't be resurrected again?), he's really just been living on borrowed time.
As Haru likes to point out, grunge workers are dead workers, so there's really nothing to be afraid of.
Except pain, Tsuna corrects mentally when the crowbar connects with his arm, the sound of something snapping and shattering and the crunch of bone breaking echoing eerily down the alley. Yes, pain is definitely unpleasant.
And then it's just a torrent of pain, one wave crashing instantaneously after another, and all Tsuna can concentrate on is pain, pain, hurt, pain, hurt, break, blood. Red, dark red, black, brown, purple, pink, in his hair and eyes and over his clothes and the ground and the weapons, weapons still raining down pain on his body, body still breaking, still crashing, still bleeding, blood getting everywhere....
A distant part of Tsuna's mind thinks it's interesting how he's losing so much blood--too much blood, far too much--and no one notices or cares. Most notably of those ignoring the blood is Tsuna himself--or, Tsuna's body. So much gone, so much wasted, so much still spilling, but he's still moving, still breathing, still thinking coherently except for the pain.
It might be the adrenaline rush, or what's left of it.
Or, maybe dying and resurrection have added benefits?
The big guy that started all this off stops it, bends down and picks Tsuna up by his collar, eyes the beaten and bloody and mangled form. "Well, shrimp?"
Tsuna doesn't know what the other wants him to say, still isn't sure why he was attacked besides crossing the thug's path. So he doesn't say anything, just looks up and up and up, and suddenly he's eye-to-eye with the thug, and, just like with Gokudera, the memories come crashing down on him. Memories and emotions and thoughts and ideas, and at first Tsuna thinks the person before him is rather pitiful, seeing the many foster homes and abusive foster parents, and he thinks that maybe there's something to save in this person.
But then the memories continue, and it's not the thug being tormented, it's the thug tormenting, learning the smell of blood and the crunch of bones and the feel of death, and enjoying every minute of it. After that, all that, all the victims and the trials and the bribes and the paroles, after the obsession with blood, Tsuna thinks that, maybe, there isn't anything left to save.
He can taste his own blood in his mouth, see how the thug watches how his blood drips to the ground, can still feel the obsession, the draw, the compulsion the lifeblood has on the big thug, and--
And then it's red, red, darkredblackbrownpurplepinkRED, and if there's sound or screams or feeling there's not, nothing for him, just the sight and taste and smell of redredblood, and then there's... not. At all.
"Tsuna!"
Nothing. No more blood.
...where did the blood go?
"Tsuna...."
There had been so much blood. It couldn't have just disappeared, right? Where did it go?
"Tsuna."
And... why is he wet? Did it start to rain? But there's no puddles on the ground. And what about--
"Tsuna!"
The slap across his face is what wakes him from his daze, eyes--amber--turning and staring, wide and fearful, seeing only clear brown and silver-green that he thinks he's familiar with, but... but...!
"Oh, God," he chokes out, collapsing into a pair of warmstrongkind arms, feeling them wrap around him carefully and tenderly and--oh, right, he's still injured. But... wasn't his arm broken at minimum? Why...?
"Tsuna," a voice calls, and he wants to lift his head but can't, can't look, can't see, can't breathe.
And then there's black, black, dark night, and all he sees is stars.