um.....I'm sorry ?
Title: Waiting Years
Author: Enkidu
Rating: R
Pairing: Hibari/Kusakabe (I'm serious -_-)
Warnings: Sexual situations, bad language, spoilers, several liberties taken with time line, more spoilers, abuse of artistic license.
Summary: Just me trying to work out what happened during those little gaps and shove in a bit of random back story <-this summary fails.
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't what's wrong with me, either.
.01.
It’s the first day at Namimori Middle School, and Kusakabe walks into class fifteen minutes late, a habit he’s picked up from years of practice. Authority is not something he takes kindly to, especially when he’s shoving aside smaller kids in the school yard, tormenting them in exchange for their well-made bento boxes and not the slimy stuff his mother packs for him. He’s claimed four by the time he arrives to class and sticks them all under his chair. The teacher doesn’t even spare him a glance, his front turned towards the board where he’s writing his own name in neat kanji and explaining its meaning.
There’s a piece of grain stuck in between Kusakabe’s teeth from chewing on the long stem all morning. He likes to pluck a few before class from his neighbor’s porch and spend his time chewing on them. He’d watched many gang movies where they did that when he was a few years younger, and he thinks it looks cool.
Besides, it gives him something do when he’s in class, pointedly not paying attention to the teacher. What does he care about learning? His father had told him he was a worthless idiot countless times before. It’s not like he expects to get some kind of a fancy company job in the future -not when he’d rather join a gang or the yakuza.
As the teacher drones on, his eyes fall to the kid in front of him, a short boy, short enough that Kusakabe can see over his head and at the board even while slouching. The kid’s shoulders straighten as if he’s aware Kusakabe is staring at him.
That is the first time Kusakabe sees him, turning his head to the side, one pale grey eye locking onto his face. He doesn’t understand the feeling he gets around him, thinks there’s something a lot off about the kid, and it’s stupid that he’s afraid of someone so small.
He half expects a death threat or something with the way the kid stares up at him, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Instead, the kid turns away and dutifully ignores him the rest of class.
During lunch time, classmates whisper fervently about a ‘Hibari Kyouya.’ They say he’s frightening and insane. Some even affirm that he’s not even supposed to be in middle school and that he’d just started showing up one day in his own uniform. Kusakabe ignores them all and instead focuses on working his way through the second bento box, devouring the pickles and picking through the curry rice, leaving everything he dislikes behind.
The whispers are halted when the leader of the disciplinary committee, Kawamura Ichirou, walks in, a badge strapped to his upper arm. He’s a third year, well-admired by all the students. He stands proudly, arms crossed over his chest with the rest of his subordinates in tow.
Kusakabe decides he already doesn’t like the guy. His hair’s too perfect, and he looks like one of those rich snot-nosed brats he likes to beat up.
The entire class goes quiet as he marches straight up to Hibari’s chair and stares down at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re not enrolled in this school,” he announces. “You’re not even done with elementary school, yet. What’s wrong? Did you get lost? Do you need mommy to hold your hand and walk you to school?”
The crowd of upperclassmen laugh in unison.
“Get out,” Kawamura orders the kid firmly, and Kusakabe watches curiously while he swallows down a few sausages..
“No,” the kid responds, eyes never leaving his own lunch.
“What?!”
“No,” the kid repeats before slowly glancing up at the leader with a small smile.
It’s creepy enough to make Kusakabe’s stomach turn a little at the sight of it. He doesn’t know which one of them is going to end up in more pain. Even the teacher has made no move to interfere in the fight.
Kawamura tries to grab the kid, but he’s stopped as the kid reaches into his backpack and pulls out a weapon of sorts. Kusakabe can’t recall ever seeing something like it used in any of the fighting games he’s played before.
Whatever it is, the kid uses it to beat up Kawamura, shoving it across his face and breaking his nose with a sickening crack that really makes Kusakabe’s stomach flop unpleasantly. The beating doesn’t stop there, the kid dragging the edge of his weapon across the upperclassmen’s broken nose over and over, blood dripping onto the ground, blood sprinkling onto his own shirt.
When Kawamura finally goes down, a pair of unmoving limbs on the floor, the kid crouches next to him and removes the badge from his upper arm to replace it on his own. He then slides the weapon back into his bag and stares up at the teacher, ignoring the wide eyes and shocked faces all directed towards him.
“Lunch is over,” he tells the teacher. “Isn’t it time to resume the lesson?”
The teacher’s head nods numbly, and he turns away, hand trembling as he writes on the board. His kanji are all distorted and messy. Even one girl bursts out in frightened tears, her face growing paler as the disciplinary committee drags out their unconscious leader.
Hibari Kyouya.
Kusakabe remembers the name, repeats it in his head before going to sleep. He thinks of himself as the strongest, surpassing all the other kids in his grade level in height. He was the biggest thug in his elementary school, his name inciting the same kind of fear Hibari’s does now.
He doesn’t want to be ignored because some other little punk has decided to trounce on his territory before he even had a chance to cause much trouble himself. It pisses him off, and he decides he doesn’t like Hibari, either. The kid’s weird and not right in the head, and he doesn’t even belong in his school. There’s no way Kusakabe is going to let him bully anyone around when he’s the one who’s supposed to do all the bullying.
He follows Hibari after school, waits until they’re both suitably far from school grounds before planting a hand on Hibari’s shoulder and forcing him to stop.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing, pulling that kind of stuff?” Kusakabe challenges, voice booming as his shadow overrides Hibari’s figure.
He grins around the fresh piece of grain in his mouth as Hibari’s shoulder tenses beneath his fingers. For a second, he actually thinks he’s scared Hibari a little.
“Weak herbivores…,” Hibari murmurs, “I hate them.”
Kusakabe doesn’t expect the blow that slashes him across the stomach nor the intense pain that forces him to double over and nearly puke his lunch out. He feels the pain blossom over his entire midsection and grits his teeth, biting off the stem entirely of the grain he’d been chewing.
“What …the hell… are you?” he wheezes, trying to straighten again.
Hibari moves in for another hit, but Kusakabe manages to dodge this time and tries to grab the kid by the back of his collar. Unfortunately, Hibari is too fast and drives another blow into Kusakabe’s side. Pain explodes along his ribs, and Kusakabe barely manages to stay standing.
If he falls now, if he passes out, he’ll never get the kid to fear and respect him. He doesn’t know why it’s important, but he just knows he can never let his knees touch the ground.
Gritting his teeth with new resolve, Kusakabe seizes the kid by the front of his shirt, forcing him forward, enough to catch him off guard and make him stumble on his own feet as he smashes their heads together, head butting him as hard as he can. It makes him incredibly dizzy, makes the front of his head pound like there’s a beating heart right there.
He can barely stay up, reminding himself not to fall, not to kneel, not to ever touch the ground. Hibari’s eyes are wide even though he’s barely managing to stay on his feet himself.
Kusakabe briefly entertains the thought that Hibari might cry from this. He’s disappointed, though, but not by much because Hibari smiles instead, smiles as his own feet give out and his hand touches the front of his forehead where a bruise is already starting to form.
“…How would you like to be my second in command?”
.02.
It’s the first day of his second year at Namimori Middle School, and Kusakabe arrives early. A couple of bentos are stashed under his arm, six this time; two of them are for Hibari.
Though the younger boy has already attended school there for an entire year, this is his first ‘official’ year at Namimori. Certain restrictions state one has to be a third-year to be the head of any club, so this is also technically Hibari’s second time as a third-year at school.
Kusakabe doesn’t know how he gets away with it -probably the fact that the entire administration is afraid of him- but he’s come to enjoy the perks and privileges of being second-in-command. He still gets the respect and fear he deserves and still gets to beat up whoever he wants for whatever reason he wants.
This also means access to their own club room, which Hibari generally accosts for personal purposes (i.e. naps). He’s in deep sleep when Kusakabe walks in with their bento boxes, curled up on the couch and looking significantly less frightening than he does when he’s awake.
Kusakabe sets down his things before slowly approaching him. He’s learned how to be absolutely deathly silent around Hibari when he’s sleeping. Waking him generally leads to massive bleeding and excruciating pain, and when the slightest noise tends to cause Hibari to stir, he doesn’t take any chances.
He takes the chair nearest to the couch and sticks a new stem of grain in his mouth, gnawing on it as he glances over at Hibari. The younger boy has gotten a bit taller since they’d met but not enough to look physically threatening. Kusakabe doesn’t know how someone so skinny and small could hit so hard, but he figures it works in Hibari’s favor.
Just as his own eyes start to drift, he feels something press into his head, cold and harsh, before pain explodes.
“You were breathing too loud,” Hibari informs him, standing across from him.
There’s blood dripping warm and sticky along the side of Kusakabe’s face, and his vision blurs a little as he stares up at the young Prefect. He bites his tongue before he could say anything back, tries to focus on getting the world to stop shifting. He hates this part of the job, almost wishes Hibari wouldn’t beat him every so often, but he knows if Hibari didn’t, his men wouldn’t listen to him at all.
“Wake me up again, and I’ll bite you to death,” Hibari threatens before crawling on the couch and curling back up again, leaving Kusakabe to make his way to the bathroom to clean up his latest wound.
.03.
It’s his third year when Kusakabe runs into the Kokuyou gang. They claim to be working their way through the strongest kids in Namimori, and Kusakabe feels some sort of pride when he’s one of the top few. He also knows very well who is number one, and he knows he has to defeat these morons before they could go after Hibari.
It’s his duty as the second-in-command.
However, he doesn’t expect the students at Kokuyou to be quite as bat shit, doesn’t expect one of them to change into a dog, bear fangs at him as he drags Kusakabe across the floor and beats him senseless -doesn’t expect the foot in his stomach or the kick to his head, doesn’t expect blood to drip into his eyes as he lies on the floor.
That pride for Namimori, for Hibari, for himself -it’s broken that day, shriveled into nothing. He’s never been forced onto his knees by anyone else but Hibari before, and now he feels the scrapes bleed down them, thin trails of blood twisting around his legs.
The last thought before he blacks out, lets pain embrace him like a warm blanket, is ’I’ve failed’.
The first face he sees in the hospital is neither his mother nor his father. He opens swollen eyes, barely conscious, and stares at Hibari who looks as he always does -neither livid nor surprised. There’s no tension or fear. Kusakabe knows that Hibari can win, that Hibari can destroy the entire gang just by himself.
There was never a doubt in his mind, and he only wishes that the confidence could be returned, that Hibari could say the same of him.
He tries to speak, his voice raspy as he manages to croak out, “Sorry.”
It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to anyone.
Hibari stares at him, still doesn’t say anything. As usual, there are no words wasted, no comforts, no assurances, not even a cruel smile. Kusakabe blacks out again as he watches Hibari walk out of the room, his steps purposeful.
During his entire stay in the hospital, he promises himself to become stronger, to be worthy of his title. He promises to himself to fight more to bring back the respect Namimori deserves. Hibari reminds them all daily about the glory of Namimori, how that is the most important thing, then makes them recite the anthem.
‘Nami is great’ they all repeat over and over until Kusakabe believes.
It’s somewhat of a surprise when the next time he comes to the hospital, he’s the one visiting Hibari, watching him on the bed nearly lifeless. The doctors tell him his bones are broken all over his body, and that it’s some sort of a miracle Hibari had even survived this long.
It actually makes Kusakabe wonder if all those weird rumors about Hibari being some weird super-spirit summoned to protect Namimori were true. He knows Hibari must really be injured because he doesn’t even wake up to beat him as Kusakabe loudly crinkles the wrapper on the candy bar he’s eating.
For every day and night Hibari is in the hospital, Kusakabe takes over his position, runs the school and the committee in his place. It’s weird possessing that much power, but at the same time, he knows the men only follow him so loyally because Hibari would be pissed off and bite them all to death if anything happens to Namimori while he’s away.
For every day and night Hibari is in the hospital, Kusakabe visits him after school. Most of the time he sits on the chair next to his bed and taps his fingers against his own knee, waiting for Hibari to wake up and hit him. Other times, he catches himself humming the school’s anthem.
One day, when he barely even realizes he’s doing it, whispering the words under his breath as he taps the beat onto his knee, another voice joins him towards the end, raspy and tired. Kusakabe freezes and stares with wide eyes towards the bed where Hibari’s lips are moving even though his eyes are still closed.
.04.
Namimori High is nothing like Namimori Middle School. Here, he doesn’t rule the school. Here, he has no Hibari. Here, the girls all giggle louder and talk about boys, and the boys all shove each other around and talk about sex. It’s nothing he’s ever particularly cared or wondered about, having been too busy with his Prefect duties, but it seems all the more poignant when there aren’t any extra-curricular activities to keep him busy.
The first day of school, he arrives early, half an hour early because Hibari had always expected them to come early, and walks into class. He’s still tall for his age, towering above most of the students, enough that the teacher forces him to sit in the back of the class.
He hates to think that it’s lonely without Hibari. Guys aren’t supposed to feel that way, and he should be grateful he’s not taking a routine beating.
Still.
It’s not the same.
And he doesn’t like it.
Heavy whispers snap him out of his attention, though, enough to make his eyes skim the room. He feels he should be surprised when Hibari walks into the room, shoves the kid out of the desk in front of Kusakabe, and sits in his place, but he doesn’t.
A fresh new badge rests on his upper arm, displaying the characters for Namimori High, but other than that, not much else has changed. Hibari’s reputation still precedes him everywhere, enough to make the students near him subtly scoot farther away.
Hibari turns to him slowly, lips turned up, and asks, “Do you want to be my second-in-command?”
.05.
It’s the second year of high school, and all Kusakabe hears about in the locker rooms is sex. He changes with his eyes set forward, occasionally shoving aside anyone who tries to get close to him because he hears stories. There’s no way he’s taking any chances.
He listens in on a lot of things while he changes, things about girls and breasts. There’s even one guy who hashes out porn in the corner of the locker room every morning, grinning lecherously as he supplies the rest of the class with magazines.
“This one’s good,” he always says.
Kusakabe approaches him one day and just takes one of the magazines from his hands before flipping through it. When the guy tries to grab it back, Kusakabe pushes him away easily.
“Just be glad Hibari-san hasn’t confiscated them.”
He waits till after school in the club room to flip through it, glancing at page after page of breasts. He kind of likes it though he’s not sure why. He’s never really hung around girls since the disciplinary committee was generally composed of boys. He knows some of the other Prefects talk about girls when Hibari is not around.
His eyes land on one particular girl. She’s cute, a short bob haircut and large eyes. One of her hands is coyly touching her own chest as she stares up at him with a beckoning expression. It makes his stomach feel warm, makes the sweat rise on the palms of his hands and makes it harder to turn the pages.
Before he can get any further, the magazine is snatched out of his hands, and Hibari sits down on the couch next to him, absently flipping through it, page by aching page. For several brief minutes, Kusakabe fears for his life, feels the tension coil lower as he expects to be beaten for reading pornographic material in school. He knows Hibari is anal about rules, and he expects this sort of thing would rightfully piss him off.
The sounds of pages turning is the only noise that permeates the room, and Hibari remains sitting cross-legged, staring impassively at page after page of large-breasted women, smiling and cooing at him. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of Kusakabe’s life, and his face is damp with sweat when Hibari calmly closes the magazine and hands it back to Kusakabe.
Kusakabe watches Hibari walk towards the door without any other words then tenses up again when Hibari pauses with one hand on the knob. The younger boy turns his head to the side to stare back at him before grinning. “Do you enjoy that sort of thing?”
Kusakabe doesn’t know how to answer at first, fingers absently pawing at the glossy cover at the magazine. He figures Hibari knows the truth already anyway, so he nods.
“If I ever catch you ignoring your duties for one of these, I’ll bite you to death.”
The girl staring cutely up at him from the cover suddenly seems less attractive than she did a few minutes ago.
.06.
It’s the third year of high school, and everyone sits around and thinks about college. Kusakabe doesn’t know if he even wants to go to one. He supposes he should try, but at the same time, he could work at his uncle’s shop -maybe go to trade school or something. He prefers the idea of beating people up for a living, though.
His girlfriend calls him an unmotivated failure, complains he spends too much time following Hibari around and not concentrating on his schoolwork, so she breaks up with him. She’s not the first to do so. They all complain about the same thing and maybe Kusakabe wonders if it’s time to start cutting the strings that keep him attached to Hibari.
There will probably be a time when Hibari won’t need him anymore, and what will Kusakabe have then? No wife, no home to come home to, no real ambition of his own. He’s been watching Hibari drift, talk more with that Sawada kid and his friends, get further and further away.
Though most of the time, Hibari really is aloof, floating on his own. He’s never even seen Hibari with a girl and wonders if he ever does normal teenage stuff like jerk off or play video games. He’s also never been to Hibari’s home or met his parents or even had a real conversation about him that wasn’t about Namimori.
It’s strange in a way. He’s still not even sure if they could be considered friends even though they’d been together for close to six years.
That’s why it comes as a shock to him when one day, Hibari invites him over to his house. It’s random and abrupt -really more of a command than a request.
‘Dinner. My house. Tonight. Don’t be late, or I’ll bite you to death.’
Kusakabe’s not prone to nervousness too often, but he has to wipe his hands three times on his pants as he walks up to Hibari’s door and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to expect, though a lot of kids in school tend to think Hibari was raised in a jungle or came from a very broken home.
A woman opens the door, and she’s beautiful -straight, short hair, thin body, and a pretty smile. Kusakabe swallows thickly before bowing.
“You must be Kyouya’s friend.”
He’s never heard the word ‘friend’ follow ‘Kyouya.’ It makes him feel even weirder about this whole thing, enough to want to fake being ill except he’s sure Hibari would kill him if he does.
Hibari’s house is …normal. Surprisingly so. Everything is clean and neat, well-furnished. His mother is sweet and kind, and his father lives and works in another country.
Hibari’s already at the dinner table, sitting with his back straight and looking bored when he steps into the dinning room. He doesn’t bother with a greeting as Kusakabe takes the seat across from him.
It’s the most awkward and silent dinner Kusakabe’s ever sat through, occasionally peppered with little questions here and there from his mother who claims this is the first time Hibari’s ever invited a friend over.
After dinner, his mother clears up the table and tells them they could go play in Hibari’s room, which weirds Kusakabe out because they’re both respectively seventeen and sixteen. Boys their age don’t …’play’ in each other’s rooms.
And that thought makes Kusakabe’s belly clench a bit, enough to wonder if dinner is going to stay down. He follows Hibari to his room anyway and looks around slowly, surprised that Hibari’s room is ridiculously normal, too. He’d expected corpses hanging from the ceiling or blood stains on the wall, but everything is neat and orderly.
Hibari reclines on the edge of his bed, leaning back on the palms of his hands to stare at his popcorn ceiling. “My mother told me to invite someone over for my birthday.”
Children’s day.
Kusakabe didn’t know Hibari’s birthday was on Children’s day.
“Happ-“ He starts, but Hibari shoots him a look, warning him that there will be pain if he finishes the statement.
Kusakabe swallows the rest of it down and just sits next to him on the bed. The room is extremely silent save for the faint noises of the television downstairs.
He feels the bed shift every time Hibari moves a bit, but he tries hard not to move himself, his palms starting to sweat again. He catches Hibari’s face out of the corner of his eyes, notices for the first time that Hibari’s changed, no longer the short, emaciated kid with chubby cheeks. His face looks sharper, some how, eyes slimmer and cheeks more pronounced like a girl’s. He supposes Hibari would be popular with the girls if he didn’t terrify them all or threaten to kill them.
Kusakabe doesn’t even realize he’s staring till Hibari’s face turns to stare right back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you find something interesting on my face?”
Kusakabe shakes his head quickly but doesn’t look away immediately. “Spaced out,” he admits.
This makes Hibari smile and lick his own mouth, and Kusakabe’s eyes go wide. He doesn’t know what the look is for or why Hibari reacted that way. He feels heat blanket his stomach and thinks there’s enough sweat between his thighs now to seep through his pants and stain the bed. Hibari would kill him.
Hibari doesn’t kill him, though.
Not at all.
He kisses him instead, warm and wet on the mouth. It’s innocent, like the kind of kisses Kusakabe used to share with his first girlfriend when he dropped her off at her door.
It’s over too quickly, and Hibari flops on his bed and crosses his arms behind his head, closing his eyes smugly.
Kusakabe is sure he himself looks ridiculous with his mouth hanging open, still feeling the faint traces of wetness from the kiss and licking his bottom lip when he’s sure Hibari can’t see. He wants to grab the younger boy, shake him, and ask him what he hell he did that for because he’s not one of those guys, and a bit of terror runs through him when he realizes that Hibari might be like that.
He doesn’t know what to do or how to take it. He thinks it’s gross and abnormal, and he doesn’t want to think of Hibari that way because he’s come to respect him after so many years. He even thinks of Hibari as a friend…yes, he admits it to himself that he does. But he’s never thought of Hibari in that way.
The only logical reaction is to flee, even if it gains him his own death -even if it means he’s throwing everything away because he needs to think and figure things out.
He grabs his coat, thanks Hibari’s mother, and then he’s out the door, down the street, running, running, and running.
.07.
Kusakabe doesn’t go to college. He never thought he would. He’s not one for school or education or high learning. He can’t see himself in an office, can’t see himself raising a happy family.
He ends up working for his uncle, instead, running a small shop. He also gets his own place, a small apartment he can barely afford. It’s home, though, even if it’s run-down and has no cable.
Hibari shows up one day with his bird on his shoulder to announce he’s moving in -still his friend, hasn’t kissed him since that one time. Kusakabe had just excused it as curiosity because Hibari’s still Hibari. He still carries tonfas around and beats everyone up. He still walks around Namimori and harms anyone who does anything inappropriate.
Except- now he wears that weird ring more often and spends his spare time doing research and exploring. Sometimes, he disappears for days only to come back and pass out on the couch.
Kusakabe finds himself draping a blanket over him when he catches Hibari asleep or buying bird feed for Hibari’s companion. He realizes there’s something wrong when he’s turning down sex from his girlfriend because he doesn’t want to bring her home so she can see Hibari and vice-versa.
It nags at him, keeps him awake in his bed more than the shuffling of feet as Hibari walks around the apartment late at night and the little chirps that follow him. He doesn’t know if it’s loyalty anymore that keeps him at Hibari’s side.
He wants to call them friends, but Hibari is still the same way, still dominating and cold. Then again, Hibari hasn’t hit or beaten him in a long time like he used to.
It comes to a surprise to him one day, when he comes home and finds Hibari in just his boxers and an open button-down shirt, digging through his fridge. He’s shot up a bit more in height, all too noticeable by the amount of leg the boxers do nothing to cover.
Hibari pulls out an apple before glancing over at him impassively. “I am taking your apple, Tetsuya.”
The statement makes Kusakabe balk not because Hibari is taking his food -that is nothing unusual- but because it’s the first time Hibari has ever used his given name. He stands at the edge of the kitchen with a grocery bag in his hand and just stares, not even moving as Hibari walks past him, shoulder brushing against his.
At night, Kusakabe hears it in his head, replays the sound, the word ‘Tetsuya’ over and over in his head because it makes his skin feel hot and because he just can’t stop.
.08.
Kusakabe wakes up for a normal day at work and enters the shower. Hibari’s gone for longer now, up to several weeks at a time. Kusakabe doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he gives him his space because Hibari never wants to talk about anything. He just knows whatever it is, it’s been making Hibari more antsy lately.
He dips his head under the shower, lets the water run through his hairdo and hums quietly to himself. He doesn’t realize that he’s absently humming the Namimori anthem until a second voice joins him, crisp and smooth under the water’s spray.
It makes Kusakabe jump a little and pull the curtains back only to find Hibari leaning back against the sink, arms casually crossed over his chest.
“Pack your things,” he says, “We’re going to Italy.”
Kusakabe doesn’t even question him, somewhat elated that Hibari is finally letting him into whatever it is he does.
On the plane ride, he learns about the rings and the mafia business. He’s told about the Vongola and everything Hibari’s kept from him -a second life. Hibari talks for hours, longer than he’s ever spoken, tells him what he needs out of Kusakabe.
It feels like they’re back in the Prefects again, at one of their infamous morning briefings. There are others still working for Hibari, still doing jobs for him. Kusakabe wonders why he’s been spared from it until now, wonders if Hibari was actually being generous enough to give Kusakabe a chance to pull away.
He doesn’t ask, just listens and follows.
When they arrive at Italy, they arrive in the midst of another war zone. Kusakabe takes pleasure in fighting by Hibari’s side again.
.09.
Kusakabe lives in a nicer, larger apartment now, overlooking Namimori. He’s taken to wearing a suit along with the rest of the remaining Prefects and protecting the school grounds from the ongoing skirmishes that have now moved to Japan.
They all work in units, patrolling the area at night then arriving when it’s near sunrise. Kusakabe isn’t prone to drinking much, but he does indulge after particularly harsh nights, stopping at the first bar with some of the other guys and relaxing. By the time he gets home, Hibari’s door is already closed, and he’s usually asleep.
Only once does Hibari ever leave the door open, and Kusakabe finds him strewn over the mattress, half undressed and looking thoroughly exhausted. There’s a bit of blood on his chest, a vertical slash practically running downwards across it. It’s not deep enough to kill at all, mostly just barely shaving the edges of the skin, but the blood loss could be a problem.
Kusakabe grabs a few napkins, reaches out to dab at the wound and go against his better judgment. He stops abruptly when his eyes trail down his chest, trail further down where Hibari’s pants are left open and underwear pulled down a bit just under his-.
The napkin falls to the floor, and Kusakabe walks away, closing the door on his way out. He doesn’t want to know what went on, tells himself in his head that he’d rather not know, that he doesn’t care. It’s none of his business.
In the morning, Hibari is clean, calmly drinking tea with the bird perched on his shoulder.
“Rough night?” Kusakabe asks jokingly if only to get rid of the weird tension in the room.
“Not rough enough,” Hibari murmurs, staring down at the cup in his hands.
Kusakabe doesn’t ask him to elaborate, isn’t sure he really wants to know.
.10.
Something finally snaps, perhaps because of the increase in fighting, the numerous deaths. Hibari spends more time moving from place to place, looking for boxes, and Kusakabe still follows him even if it means they don’t always have a bed, even if it means sometimes they have to sleep on benches.
Hibari can fall asleep just about anywhere in spite being a very light sleeper. Kusakabe’s even found him asleep on his feet once while do surveillance. He wonders if the growing friction is taking its toll on him, but he knows Hibari is only alive and excited when he fights.
After a particularly long battle, Hibari arrives covered in blood, none of it his own. His face is stained, pale skin dotted with red all over, and his suit is covered in tears where he’d been cut up by multiple high-ranking mafia members.
They manage to make it back to their apartment, though it’s been weeks since Kusakabe’s even seen the place. All the food is probably spoiled in their fridge.
The bird flutters off to its small perching stand, and for a second, Kusakabe thinks Hibari’s going to head straight for bed and pass out.
He doesn’t.
The smell of blood in the room is heavy, the apartment musty from so many weeks of disuse. It gets stronger as Hibari moves closer, stronger still when Hibari wraps his fingers around Kusakabe’s tie and pulls him down into a messy kiss, dryer and longer than their first one.
Kusakabe can’t react, too exhausted and too confused to shove Hibari away. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, doesn’t know if Hibari’s lost his shit entirely.
The kiss doesn’t stop, and Hibari places his hands on Kusakabe’s shoulders, tilts his head and pushes his tongue inside. It’s the sloppiest kiss Kusakabe’s ever had -far worse than the first time he’d ever made out with a girl. It’s too awkward, dry tongue bumping into his, licking his teeth. Kusakabe doesn’t think Hibari’s ever kissed anyone else despite his age, finds it weird to think that Hibari who has killed and murdered before is still completely a virgin.
Kusakabe finally pulls back, eyes fixed on Hibari’s face as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
“I’m not-“ Kusakabe starts, a dozen explanations on the tip of his tongue.
None of them come to fruition because Hibari’s lips look puffy and bruised, and when Kusakabe’s eyes run down the line of his body, he can see the bulge in front of Hibari’s pants. His own body has a visceral reaction, feeling something hot and tight clamp around his dick, and he wants to ignore it and go to bed because he’s tired and Hibari’s too weird sometimes.
Hibari steps towards him and starts tugging off Kusakabe’s jacket with harsh, jerky movement. He kisses him, and it’s still sloppy, spit rolling down Kusakabe’s chin as Hibari abandons the jacket and just starts on Kusakabe’s pants. Kusakabe can hear the clink of metal, the rough sound of his zipper being harshly pulled down.
He doesn’t know where to put his hands, whether or not it’s okay to touch Hibari. There’s a good chance he’ll have his hands cut off if he tries, but it’s hard to ignore the sensation to just grab onto something when Hibari’s fingers slide into his boxers, dip inside and wriggle against his crotch.
His hands close around Hibari’s shoulders, hug the thin bones and just squeeze hard enough to leave bruises. Hibari doesn’t try to kiss him anymore as he tugs out Kusakabe’s cock. His grip is firm and harsh, on the borderline of uncomfortable, and Kusakabe pulls the shorter man closer, fists his hands in the back of his jacket when he starts stroking.
He feels Hibari’s breath touch his ear, heavy as Hibari presses into him and pushes up into his leg. Belatedly, Kusakabe realizes Hibari is rubbing against him frantically, shaking in his grasp.
Hibari’s hand tightens around him, squeezes hot and sweaty around his dick, and Kusakabe thrusts against it. He knows he’s close, feels his thighs tremble as he digs his fingers harder into Hibari’s shoulder blades.
He hears Hibari’s voice rough and scratchy against his ear, sounding choked and hot. The pressure builds as Hibari jerks him off, too roughly, too painfully -drawing it out of him, forcing it, making Kusakabe hunch over and gasp as he comes.
Hibari is still unsatisfied, but he says nothing, merely shoving Kusakabe back against the wall and humping his leg. ‘If it was anyone else,’ Kusakabe repeats tiredly in his mind, trying to wrap his consciousness around what is happening. He can’t grasp it too well, only managing to stay still while Hibari drags his crotch along his upper thigh.
One glimpse at Hibari’s face, though, and he knows the shorter man is out of it. Hibari’s eyes are squeezed shut, and his body seems to be moving on its own volition, enough to make Kusakabe wonder if he’s even awake.
When Hibari finally slumps over with a quick exhalation, Kusakabe circles an arm around his thin frame and drags him over to his own bed.
The hand job, the kissing, everything was terrible, but it was better than nothing. It was better because it was Hibari, and Hibari doesn’t do this with anyone. Ever.
It’s hard to sleep after that, having difficulty finding rest after the memory of soft panting and a slimy, rough tongue in his mouth. Kusakabe doesn’t want to be himself when he wakes up, doesn’t want to deal with the morning awkwardness.
.11.
The apartment is gone, destroyed. Hibari doesn’t care, and Kusakabe tries not to. There seems to be a trail of destruction anywhere they go, anyway. Kusakabe focuses on surviving the day, instead, then thinks about wondering where they’re going to sleep.
They move around more often now from city to city even traveling to Italy a few times on Hibari’s whims. Every once in a while, they return to Namimori where Hibari thinks about setting up a new base camp but never does.
Hibari is still relentless in finding out about those boxes, now wearing his ring nearly all the time. Kusakabe watches him train, watches him get stronger and stronger, become a true mafioso. There are times Hibari leaves to see the Vongola family or what’s left of it. Kusakabe doesn’t know where Hibari’s motivations stand with them and thinks his loyalty only stretches so far -that Hibari seeks something personal to gain by protecting his ring.
He doesn’t even try to understand him anymore, merely trails after him and does whatever he’s told. Hibari, if anything, has earned more of his respect in the fast few weeks, leading the remainder of the Prefects, keeping them all alive.
He finds Hibari in an abandoned warehouse one night after a particular difficult fight. There’s not a drop of blood on him, though several dead enemies lay twisted and contorted by his feet, all of them drowning in a sea of red. Hibari’s tonfa are also stained red, dripping blood onto the floor.
Hibari’s smiling, though, which never bodes well for anyone. “Sawada Tsunayoshi,” he says slowly, drawing the name out like it’s something to be savored, his tongue wrapping around the syllables.
Kusakabe doesn’t know why he feels jealous, tries to ignore the annoyance and glance off to the side while pushing his hands into his pockets. “What about him?”
There’s no answer, but something looks ‘off’ with Hibari again, though it’s getting more and more difficult to tell.
“I want to fight him.”
The heaviness sinks deeper into Kusakabe’s stomach, and he wonders if Hibari even remembers the first fight they ever had. Sometimes, he still feels the phantom ache in his forehead and pictures the intensity of Hibari’s eyes as they smashed into each other. Hibari hasn’t mirrored an intensity quite like that in years.
.12.
The first time they fuck, it’s in a hotel, a dingy, small love hotel that feels both dirty and seedy, but neither of them are picky about that sort of thing. Hibari pushes him down, holds him, presses his fingers into his upper arms and applies force.
When naked, he looks a lot thinner and frail, all very tightly corded muscles and slender, long limbs. Hibari’s facial features have also grown softer and delicate with age, which baffles Kusakabe because up until now, he’s pretty sure puberty was supposed to create facial hair, strong jaws, and lots of bulging muscles.
The boyishness is gone from Hibari, and Kusakabe can’t get over how fucking smooth and pretty the younger man looks even when he settles himself over Kusakabe, applies invisible strength to hold him down.
It’s the first time they do it, and Kusakabe can’t escape his fate, only bites his lower lip and tries to deal with something going up his ass. It hurts, stretches, burns, and he hates it enough to want to shove Hibari off and try to beat him senseless for this. Maybe if he were drunk- but he isn’t, and he’d agreed to this willingly only because it was Hibari -only because he couldn’t turn him down.
It’s nothing like how it’s been with women, where he was thrusting into tight, wetness, holding their legs apart and making them shake. With Hibari, everything is out of his control, only bearing with the force, with the violent mess and inexperience Hibari is in bed.
When’s it over, and he feels like his ass has been split into two, he finally digs into the crappy liquor bar, fishes for the first bottle he finds and drinks the pain away. Hibari watches him, stretched out over the bed like a satisfied cat, smirking and unconcerned. It’s the most off-guard Kusakabe has ever seen him, possibly enough to forgive him for the current pain in his ass.
…and because he’s drunk, Kusakabe asks, “So… do I ever get to do it to you?”
“You try, and I’ll bite you to death.”
He supposes he should have expected that.
.13.
Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead.
Hibari doesn’t sleep that night nor does he speak to anyone. Nobody can find him at all, so Kusakabe returns to one place he knows Hibari will be.
Namimori.
There, Hibari stands alone, the bird perched on his shoulder as he looks at the place that had once been home to the both of them. Now it was a battleground, sullied with the blood of their enemies.
Hibari doesn’t look distressed or bothered, but he doesn’t like to mourn the dead. Instead, he fingers the ring on his hand and stands still beneath the solemn moonlight.
“I wanted a rematch,” he says abruptly, breaking the silence.
Kusakabe doesn’t know if Hibari’s talking to him or not, but he says nothing in response. There’s nothing really to say. He knows it’s not the end and that Hibari will keep fighting and protecting Namimori till he dies.
From the looks of it, Hibari is not quite ready to die, yet.
Hibari starts walking ahead of him, heading towards a new location. “Come on, Tetsuya.”
“Yes, Kyou-san!” Kusakabe replies and follows him.
~End~
Author: Enkidu
Rating: R
Pairing: Hibari/Kusakabe (I'm serious -_-)
Warnings: Sexual situations, bad language, spoilers, several liberties taken with time line, more spoilers, abuse of artistic license.
Summary: Just me trying to work out what happened during those little gaps and shove in a bit of random back story <-this summary fails.
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't what's wrong with me, either.
.01.
It’s the first day at Namimori Middle School, and Kusakabe walks into class fifteen minutes late, a habit he’s picked up from years of practice. Authority is not something he takes kindly to, especially when he’s shoving aside smaller kids in the school yard, tormenting them in exchange for their well-made bento boxes and not the slimy stuff his mother packs for him. He’s claimed four by the time he arrives to class and sticks them all under his chair. The teacher doesn’t even spare him a glance, his front turned towards the board where he’s writing his own name in neat kanji and explaining its meaning.
There’s a piece of grain stuck in between Kusakabe’s teeth from chewing on the long stem all morning. He likes to pluck a few before class from his neighbor’s porch and spend his time chewing on them. He’d watched many gang movies where they did that when he was a few years younger, and he thinks it looks cool.
Besides, it gives him something do when he’s in class, pointedly not paying attention to the teacher. What does he care about learning? His father had told him he was a worthless idiot countless times before. It’s not like he expects to get some kind of a fancy company job in the future -not when he’d rather join a gang or the yakuza.
As the teacher drones on, his eyes fall to the kid in front of him, a short boy, short enough that Kusakabe can see over his head and at the board even while slouching. The kid’s shoulders straighten as if he’s aware Kusakabe is staring at him.
That is the first time Kusakabe sees him, turning his head to the side, one pale grey eye locking onto his face. He doesn’t understand the feeling he gets around him, thinks there’s something a lot off about the kid, and it’s stupid that he’s afraid of someone so small.
He half expects a death threat or something with the way the kid stares up at him, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Instead, the kid turns away and dutifully ignores him the rest of class.
During lunch time, classmates whisper fervently about a ‘Hibari Kyouya.’ They say he’s frightening and insane. Some even affirm that he’s not even supposed to be in middle school and that he’d just started showing up one day in his own uniform. Kusakabe ignores them all and instead focuses on working his way through the second bento box, devouring the pickles and picking through the curry rice, leaving everything he dislikes behind.
The whispers are halted when the leader of the disciplinary committee, Kawamura Ichirou, walks in, a badge strapped to his upper arm. He’s a third year, well-admired by all the students. He stands proudly, arms crossed over his chest with the rest of his subordinates in tow.
Kusakabe decides he already doesn’t like the guy. His hair’s too perfect, and he looks like one of those rich snot-nosed brats he likes to beat up.
The entire class goes quiet as he marches straight up to Hibari’s chair and stares down at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re not enrolled in this school,” he announces. “You’re not even done with elementary school, yet. What’s wrong? Did you get lost? Do you need mommy to hold your hand and walk you to school?”
The crowd of upperclassmen laugh in unison.
“Get out,” Kawamura orders the kid firmly, and Kusakabe watches curiously while he swallows down a few sausages..
“No,” the kid responds, eyes never leaving his own lunch.
“What?!”
“No,” the kid repeats before slowly glancing up at the leader with a small smile.
It’s creepy enough to make Kusakabe’s stomach turn a little at the sight of it. He doesn’t know which one of them is going to end up in more pain. Even the teacher has made no move to interfere in the fight.
Kawamura tries to grab the kid, but he’s stopped as the kid reaches into his backpack and pulls out a weapon of sorts. Kusakabe can’t recall ever seeing something like it used in any of the fighting games he’s played before.
Whatever it is, the kid uses it to beat up Kawamura, shoving it across his face and breaking his nose with a sickening crack that really makes Kusakabe’s stomach flop unpleasantly. The beating doesn’t stop there, the kid dragging the edge of his weapon across the upperclassmen’s broken nose over and over, blood dripping onto the ground, blood sprinkling onto his own shirt.
When Kawamura finally goes down, a pair of unmoving limbs on the floor, the kid crouches next to him and removes the badge from his upper arm to replace it on his own. He then slides the weapon back into his bag and stares up at the teacher, ignoring the wide eyes and shocked faces all directed towards him.
“Lunch is over,” he tells the teacher. “Isn’t it time to resume the lesson?”
The teacher’s head nods numbly, and he turns away, hand trembling as he writes on the board. His kanji are all distorted and messy. Even one girl bursts out in frightened tears, her face growing paler as the disciplinary committee drags out their unconscious leader.
Hibari Kyouya.
Kusakabe remembers the name, repeats it in his head before going to sleep. He thinks of himself as the strongest, surpassing all the other kids in his grade level in height. He was the biggest thug in his elementary school, his name inciting the same kind of fear Hibari’s does now.
He doesn’t want to be ignored because some other little punk has decided to trounce on his territory before he even had a chance to cause much trouble himself. It pisses him off, and he decides he doesn’t like Hibari, either. The kid’s weird and not right in the head, and he doesn’t even belong in his school. There’s no way Kusakabe is going to let him bully anyone around when he’s the one who’s supposed to do all the bullying.
He follows Hibari after school, waits until they’re both suitably far from school grounds before planting a hand on Hibari’s shoulder and forcing him to stop.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing, pulling that kind of stuff?” Kusakabe challenges, voice booming as his shadow overrides Hibari’s figure.
He grins around the fresh piece of grain in his mouth as Hibari’s shoulder tenses beneath his fingers. For a second, he actually thinks he’s scared Hibari a little.
“Weak herbivores…,” Hibari murmurs, “I hate them.”
Kusakabe doesn’t expect the blow that slashes him across the stomach nor the intense pain that forces him to double over and nearly puke his lunch out. He feels the pain blossom over his entire midsection and grits his teeth, biting off the stem entirely of the grain he’d been chewing.
“What …the hell… are you?” he wheezes, trying to straighten again.
Hibari moves in for another hit, but Kusakabe manages to dodge this time and tries to grab the kid by the back of his collar. Unfortunately, Hibari is too fast and drives another blow into Kusakabe’s side. Pain explodes along his ribs, and Kusakabe barely manages to stay standing.
If he falls now, if he passes out, he’ll never get the kid to fear and respect him. He doesn’t know why it’s important, but he just knows he can never let his knees touch the ground.
Gritting his teeth with new resolve, Kusakabe seizes the kid by the front of his shirt, forcing him forward, enough to catch him off guard and make him stumble on his own feet as he smashes their heads together, head butting him as hard as he can. It makes him incredibly dizzy, makes the front of his head pound like there’s a beating heart right there.
He can barely stay up, reminding himself not to fall, not to kneel, not to ever touch the ground. Hibari’s eyes are wide even though he’s barely managing to stay on his feet himself.
Kusakabe briefly entertains the thought that Hibari might cry from this. He’s disappointed, though, but not by much because Hibari smiles instead, smiles as his own feet give out and his hand touches the front of his forehead where a bruise is already starting to form.
“…How would you like to be my second in command?”
.02.
It’s the first day of his second year at Namimori Middle School, and Kusakabe arrives early. A couple of bentos are stashed under his arm, six this time; two of them are for Hibari.
Though the younger boy has already attended school there for an entire year, this is his first ‘official’ year at Namimori. Certain restrictions state one has to be a third-year to be the head of any club, so this is also technically Hibari’s second time as a third-year at school.
Kusakabe doesn’t know how he gets away with it -probably the fact that the entire administration is afraid of him- but he’s come to enjoy the perks and privileges of being second-in-command. He still gets the respect and fear he deserves and still gets to beat up whoever he wants for whatever reason he wants.
This also means access to their own club room, which Hibari generally accosts for personal purposes (i.e. naps). He’s in deep sleep when Kusakabe walks in with their bento boxes, curled up on the couch and looking significantly less frightening than he does when he’s awake.
Kusakabe sets down his things before slowly approaching him. He’s learned how to be absolutely deathly silent around Hibari when he’s sleeping. Waking him generally leads to massive bleeding and excruciating pain, and when the slightest noise tends to cause Hibari to stir, he doesn’t take any chances.
He takes the chair nearest to the couch and sticks a new stem of grain in his mouth, gnawing on it as he glances over at Hibari. The younger boy has gotten a bit taller since they’d met but not enough to look physically threatening. Kusakabe doesn’t know how someone so skinny and small could hit so hard, but he figures it works in Hibari’s favor.
Just as his own eyes start to drift, he feels something press into his head, cold and harsh, before pain explodes.
“You were breathing too loud,” Hibari informs him, standing across from him.
There’s blood dripping warm and sticky along the side of Kusakabe’s face, and his vision blurs a little as he stares up at the young Prefect. He bites his tongue before he could say anything back, tries to focus on getting the world to stop shifting. He hates this part of the job, almost wishes Hibari wouldn’t beat him every so often, but he knows if Hibari didn’t, his men wouldn’t listen to him at all.
“Wake me up again, and I’ll bite you to death,” Hibari threatens before crawling on the couch and curling back up again, leaving Kusakabe to make his way to the bathroom to clean up his latest wound.
.03.
It’s his third year when Kusakabe runs into the Kokuyou gang. They claim to be working their way through the strongest kids in Namimori, and Kusakabe feels some sort of pride when he’s one of the top few. He also knows very well who is number one, and he knows he has to defeat these morons before they could go after Hibari.
It’s his duty as the second-in-command.
However, he doesn’t expect the students at Kokuyou to be quite as bat shit, doesn’t expect one of them to change into a dog, bear fangs at him as he drags Kusakabe across the floor and beats him senseless -doesn’t expect the foot in his stomach or the kick to his head, doesn’t expect blood to drip into his eyes as he lies on the floor.
That pride for Namimori, for Hibari, for himself -it’s broken that day, shriveled into nothing. He’s never been forced onto his knees by anyone else but Hibari before, and now he feels the scrapes bleed down them, thin trails of blood twisting around his legs.
The last thought before he blacks out, lets pain embrace him like a warm blanket, is ’I’ve failed’.
The first face he sees in the hospital is neither his mother nor his father. He opens swollen eyes, barely conscious, and stares at Hibari who looks as he always does -neither livid nor surprised. There’s no tension or fear. Kusakabe knows that Hibari can win, that Hibari can destroy the entire gang just by himself.
There was never a doubt in his mind, and he only wishes that the confidence could be returned, that Hibari could say the same of him.
He tries to speak, his voice raspy as he manages to croak out, “Sorry.”
It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to anyone.
Hibari stares at him, still doesn’t say anything. As usual, there are no words wasted, no comforts, no assurances, not even a cruel smile. Kusakabe blacks out again as he watches Hibari walk out of the room, his steps purposeful.
During his entire stay in the hospital, he promises himself to become stronger, to be worthy of his title. He promises to himself to fight more to bring back the respect Namimori deserves. Hibari reminds them all daily about the glory of Namimori, how that is the most important thing, then makes them recite the anthem.
‘Nami is great’ they all repeat over and over until Kusakabe believes.
It’s somewhat of a surprise when the next time he comes to the hospital, he’s the one visiting Hibari, watching him on the bed nearly lifeless. The doctors tell him his bones are broken all over his body, and that it’s some sort of a miracle Hibari had even survived this long.
It actually makes Kusakabe wonder if all those weird rumors about Hibari being some weird super-spirit summoned to protect Namimori were true. He knows Hibari must really be injured because he doesn’t even wake up to beat him as Kusakabe loudly crinkles the wrapper on the candy bar he’s eating.
For every day and night Hibari is in the hospital, Kusakabe takes over his position, runs the school and the committee in his place. It’s weird possessing that much power, but at the same time, he knows the men only follow him so loyally because Hibari would be pissed off and bite them all to death if anything happens to Namimori while he’s away.
For every day and night Hibari is in the hospital, Kusakabe visits him after school. Most of the time he sits on the chair next to his bed and taps his fingers against his own knee, waiting for Hibari to wake up and hit him. Other times, he catches himself humming the school’s anthem.
One day, when he barely even realizes he’s doing it, whispering the words under his breath as he taps the beat onto his knee, another voice joins him towards the end, raspy and tired. Kusakabe freezes and stares with wide eyes towards the bed where Hibari’s lips are moving even though his eyes are still closed.
.04.
Namimori High is nothing like Namimori Middle School. Here, he doesn’t rule the school. Here, he has no Hibari. Here, the girls all giggle louder and talk about boys, and the boys all shove each other around and talk about sex. It’s nothing he’s ever particularly cared or wondered about, having been too busy with his Prefect duties, but it seems all the more poignant when there aren’t any extra-curricular activities to keep him busy.
The first day of school, he arrives early, half an hour early because Hibari had always expected them to come early, and walks into class. He’s still tall for his age, towering above most of the students, enough that the teacher forces him to sit in the back of the class.
He hates to think that it’s lonely without Hibari. Guys aren’t supposed to feel that way, and he should be grateful he’s not taking a routine beating.
Still.
It’s not the same.
And he doesn’t like it.
Heavy whispers snap him out of his attention, though, enough to make his eyes skim the room. He feels he should be surprised when Hibari walks into the room, shoves the kid out of the desk in front of Kusakabe, and sits in his place, but he doesn’t.
A fresh new badge rests on his upper arm, displaying the characters for Namimori High, but other than that, not much else has changed. Hibari’s reputation still precedes him everywhere, enough to make the students near him subtly scoot farther away.
Hibari turns to him slowly, lips turned up, and asks, “Do you want to be my second-in-command?”
.05.
It’s the second year of high school, and all Kusakabe hears about in the locker rooms is sex. He changes with his eyes set forward, occasionally shoving aside anyone who tries to get close to him because he hears stories. There’s no way he’s taking any chances.
He listens in on a lot of things while he changes, things about girls and breasts. There’s even one guy who hashes out porn in the corner of the locker room every morning, grinning lecherously as he supplies the rest of the class with magazines.
“This one’s good,” he always says.
Kusakabe approaches him one day and just takes one of the magazines from his hands before flipping through it. When the guy tries to grab it back, Kusakabe pushes him away easily.
“Just be glad Hibari-san hasn’t confiscated them.”
He waits till after school in the club room to flip through it, glancing at page after page of breasts. He kind of likes it though he’s not sure why. He’s never really hung around girls since the disciplinary committee was generally composed of boys. He knows some of the other Prefects talk about girls when Hibari is not around.
His eyes land on one particular girl. She’s cute, a short bob haircut and large eyes. One of her hands is coyly touching her own chest as she stares up at him with a beckoning expression. It makes his stomach feel warm, makes the sweat rise on the palms of his hands and makes it harder to turn the pages.
Before he can get any further, the magazine is snatched out of his hands, and Hibari sits down on the couch next to him, absently flipping through it, page by aching page. For several brief minutes, Kusakabe fears for his life, feels the tension coil lower as he expects to be beaten for reading pornographic material in school. He knows Hibari is anal about rules, and he expects this sort of thing would rightfully piss him off.
The sounds of pages turning is the only noise that permeates the room, and Hibari remains sitting cross-legged, staring impassively at page after page of large-breasted women, smiling and cooing at him. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of Kusakabe’s life, and his face is damp with sweat when Hibari calmly closes the magazine and hands it back to Kusakabe.
Kusakabe watches Hibari walk towards the door without any other words then tenses up again when Hibari pauses with one hand on the knob. The younger boy turns his head to the side to stare back at him before grinning. “Do you enjoy that sort of thing?”
Kusakabe doesn’t know how to answer at first, fingers absently pawing at the glossy cover at the magazine. He figures Hibari knows the truth already anyway, so he nods.
“If I ever catch you ignoring your duties for one of these, I’ll bite you to death.”
The girl staring cutely up at him from the cover suddenly seems less attractive than she did a few minutes ago.
.06.
It’s the third year of high school, and everyone sits around and thinks about college. Kusakabe doesn’t know if he even wants to go to one. He supposes he should try, but at the same time, he could work at his uncle’s shop -maybe go to trade school or something. He prefers the idea of beating people up for a living, though.
His girlfriend calls him an unmotivated failure, complains he spends too much time following Hibari around and not concentrating on his schoolwork, so she breaks up with him. She’s not the first to do so. They all complain about the same thing and maybe Kusakabe wonders if it’s time to start cutting the strings that keep him attached to Hibari.
There will probably be a time when Hibari won’t need him anymore, and what will Kusakabe have then? No wife, no home to come home to, no real ambition of his own. He’s been watching Hibari drift, talk more with that Sawada kid and his friends, get further and further away.
Though most of the time, Hibari really is aloof, floating on his own. He’s never even seen Hibari with a girl and wonders if he ever does normal teenage stuff like jerk off or play video games. He’s also never been to Hibari’s home or met his parents or even had a real conversation about him that wasn’t about Namimori.
It’s strange in a way. He’s still not even sure if they could be considered friends even though they’d been together for close to six years.
That’s why it comes as a shock to him when one day, Hibari invites him over to his house. It’s random and abrupt -really more of a command than a request.
‘Dinner. My house. Tonight. Don’t be late, or I’ll bite you to death.’
Kusakabe’s not prone to nervousness too often, but he has to wipe his hands three times on his pants as he walks up to Hibari’s door and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to expect, though a lot of kids in school tend to think Hibari was raised in a jungle or came from a very broken home.
A woman opens the door, and she’s beautiful -straight, short hair, thin body, and a pretty smile. Kusakabe swallows thickly before bowing.
“You must be Kyouya’s friend.”
He’s never heard the word ‘friend’ follow ‘Kyouya.’ It makes him feel even weirder about this whole thing, enough to want to fake being ill except he’s sure Hibari would kill him if he does.
Hibari’s house is …normal. Surprisingly so. Everything is clean and neat, well-furnished. His mother is sweet and kind, and his father lives and works in another country.
Hibari’s already at the dinner table, sitting with his back straight and looking bored when he steps into the dinning room. He doesn’t bother with a greeting as Kusakabe takes the seat across from him.
It’s the most awkward and silent dinner Kusakabe’s ever sat through, occasionally peppered with little questions here and there from his mother who claims this is the first time Hibari’s ever invited a friend over.
After dinner, his mother clears up the table and tells them they could go play in Hibari’s room, which weirds Kusakabe out because they’re both respectively seventeen and sixteen. Boys their age don’t …’play’ in each other’s rooms.
And that thought makes Kusakabe’s belly clench a bit, enough to wonder if dinner is going to stay down. He follows Hibari to his room anyway and looks around slowly, surprised that Hibari’s room is ridiculously normal, too. He’d expected corpses hanging from the ceiling or blood stains on the wall, but everything is neat and orderly.
Hibari reclines on the edge of his bed, leaning back on the palms of his hands to stare at his popcorn ceiling. “My mother told me to invite someone over for my birthday.”
Children’s day.
Kusakabe didn’t know Hibari’s birthday was on Children’s day.
“Happ-“ He starts, but Hibari shoots him a look, warning him that there will be pain if he finishes the statement.
Kusakabe swallows the rest of it down and just sits next to him on the bed. The room is extremely silent save for the faint noises of the television downstairs.
He feels the bed shift every time Hibari moves a bit, but he tries hard not to move himself, his palms starting to sweat again. He catches Hibari’s face out of the corner of his eyes, notices for the first time that Hibari’s changed, no longer the short, emaciated kid with chubby cheeks. His face looks sharper, some how, eyes slimmer and cheeks more pronounced like a girl’s. He supposes Hibari would be popular with the girls if he didn’t terrify them all or threaten to kill them.
Kusakabe doesn’t even realize he’s staring till Hibari’s face turns to stare right back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you find something interesting on my face?”
Kusakabe shakes his head quickly but doesn’t look away immediately. “Spaced out,” he admits.
This makes Hibari smile and lick his own mouth, and Kusakabe’s eyes go wide. He doesn’t know what the look is for or why Hibari reacted that way. He feels heat blanket his stomach and thinks there’s enough sweat between his thighs now to seep through his pants and stain the bed. Hibari would kill him.
Hibari doesn’t kill him, though.
Not at all.
He kisses him instead, warm and wet on the mouth. It’s innocent, like the kind of kisses Kusakabe used to share with his first girlfriend when he dropped her off at her door.
It’s over too quickly, and Hibari flops on his bed and crosses his arms behind his head, closing his eyes smugly.
Kusakabe is sure he himself looks ridiculous with his mouth hanging open, still feeling the faint traces of wetness from the kiss and licking his bottom lip when he’s sure Hibari can’t see. He wants to grab the younger boy, shake him, and ask him what he hell he did that for because he’s not one of those guys, and a bit of terror runs through him when he realizes that Hibari might be like that.
He doesn’t know what to do or how to take it. He thinks it’s gross and abnormal, and he doesn’t want to think of Hibari that way because he’s come to respect him after so many years. He even thinks of Hibari as a friend…yes, he admits it to himself that he does. But he’s never thought of Hibari in that way.
The only logical reaction is to flee, even if it gains him his own death -even if it means he’s throwing everything away because he needs to think and figure things out.
He grabs his coat, thanks Hibari’s mother, and then he’s out the door, down the street, running, running, and running.
.07.
Kusakabe doesn’t go to college. He never thought he would. He’s not one for school or education or high learning. He can’t see himself in an office, can’t see himself raising a happy family.
He ends up working for his uncle, instead, running a small shop. He also gets his own place, a small apartment he can barely afford. It’s home, though, even if it’s run-down and has no cable.
Hibari shows up one day with his bird on his shoulder to announce he’s moving in -still his friend, hasn’t kissed him since that one time. Kusakabe had just excused it as curiosity because Hibari’s still Hibari. He still carries tonfas around and beats everyone up. He still walks around Namimori and harms anyone who does anything inappropriate.
Except- now he wears that weird ring more often and spends his spare time doing research and exploring. Sometimes, he disappears for days only to come back and pass out on the couch.
Kusakabe finds himself draping a blanket over him when he catches Hibari asleep or buying bird feed for Hibari’s companion. He realizes there’s something wrong when he’s turning down sex from his girlfriend because he doesn’t want to bring her home so she can see Hibari and vice-versa.
It nags at him, keeps him awake in his bed more than the shuffling of feet as Hibari walks around the apartment late at night and the little chirps that follow him. He doesn’t know if it’s loyalty anymore that keeps him at Hibari’s side.
He wants to call them friends, but Hibari is still the same way, still dominating and cold. Then again, Hibari hasn’t hit or beaten him in a long time like he used to.
It comes to a surprise to him one day, when he comes home and finds Hibari in just his boxers and an open button-down shirt, digging through his fridge. He’s shot up a bit more in height, all too noticeable by the amount of leg the boxers do nothing to cover.
Hibari pulls out an apple before glancing over at him impassively. “I am taking your apple, Tetsuya.”
The statement makes Kusakabe balk not because Hibari is taking his food -that is nothing unusual- but because it’s the first time Hibari has ever used his given name. He stands at the edge of the kitchen with a grocery bag in his hand and just stares, not even moving as Hibari walks past him, shoulder brushing against his.
At night, Kusakabe hears it in his head, replays the sound, the word ‘Tetsuya’ over and over in his head because it makes his skin feel hot and because he just can’t stop.
.08.
Kusakabe wakes up for a normal day at work and enters the shower. Hibari’s gone for longer now, up to several weeks at a time. Kusakabe doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he gives him his space because Hibari never wants to talk about anything. He just knows whatever it is, it’s been making Hibari more antsy lately.
He dips his head under the shower, lets the water run through his hairdo and hums quietly to himself. He doesn’t realize that he’s absently humming the Namimori anthem until a second voice joins him, crisp and smooth under the water’s spray.
It makes Kusakabe jump a little and pull the curtains back only to find Hibari leaning back against the sink, arms casually crossed over his chest.
“Pack your things,” he says, “We’re going to Italy.”
Kusakabe doesn’t even question him, somewhat elated that Hibari is finally letting him into whatever it is he does.
On the plane ride, he learns about the rings and the mafia business. He’s told about the Vongola and everything Hibari’s kept from him -a second life. Hibari talks for hours, longer than he’s ever spoken, tells him what he needs out of Kusakabe.
It feels like they’re back in the Prefects again, at one of their infamous morning briefings. There are others still working for Hibari, still doing jobs for him. Kusakabe wonders why he’s been spared from it until now, wonders if Hibari was actually being generous enough to give Kusakabe a chance to pull away.
He doesn’t ask, just listens and follows.
When they arrive at Italy, they arrive in the midst of another war zone. Kusakabe takes pleasure in fighting by Hibari’s side again.
.09.
Kusakabe lives in a nicer, larger apartment now, overlooking Namimori. He’s taken to wearing a suit along with the rest of the remaining Prefects and protecting the school grounds from the ongoing skirmishes that have now moved to Japan.
They all work in units, patrolling the area at night then arriving when it’s near sunrise. Kusakabe isn’t prone to drinking much, but he does indulge after particularly harsh nights, stopping at the first bar with some of the other guys and relaxing. By the time he gets home, Hibari’s door is already closed, and he’s usually asleep.
Only once does Hibari ever leave the door open, and Kusakabe finds him strewn over the mattress, half undressed and looking thoroughly exhausted. There’s a bit of blood on his chest, a vertical slash practically running downwards across it. It’s not deep enough to kill at all, mostly just barely shaving the edges of the skin, but the blood loss could be a problem.
Kusakabe grabs a few napkins, reaches out to dab at the wound and go against his better judgment. He stops abruptly when his eyes trail down his chest, trail further down where Hibari’s pants are left open and underwear pulled down a bit just under his-.
The napkin falls to the floor, and Kusakabe walks away, closing the door on his way out. He doesn’t want to know what went on, tells himself in his head that he’d rather not know, that he doesn’t care. It’s none of his business.
In the morning, Hibari is clean, calmly drinking tea with the bird perched on his shoulder.
“Rough night?” Kusakabe asks jokingly if only to get rid of the weird tension in the room.
“Not rough enough,” Hibari murmurs, staring down at the cup in his hands.
Kusakabe doesn’t ask him to elaborate, isn’t sure he really wants to know.
.10.
Something finally snaps, perhaps because of the increase in fighting, the numerous deaths. Hibari spends more time moving from place to place, looking for boxes, and Kusakabe still follows him even if it means they don’t always have a bed, even if it means sometimes they have to sleep on benches.
Hibari can fall asleep just about anywhere in spite being a very light sleeper. Kusakabe’s even found him asleep on his feet once while do surveillance. He wonders if the growing friction is taking its toll on him, but he knows Hibari is only alive and excited when he fights.
After a particularly long battle, Hibari arrives covered in blood, none of it his own. His face is stained, pale skin dotted with red all over, and his suit is covered in tears where he’d been cut up by multiple high-ranking mafia members.
They manage to make it back to their apartment, though it’s been weeks since Kusakabe’s even seen the place. All the food is probably spoiled in their fridge.
The bird flutters off to its small perching stand, and for a second, Kusakabe thinks Hibari’s going to head straight for bed and pass out.
He doesn’t.
The smell of blood in the room is heavy, the apartment musty from so many weeks of disuse. It gets stronger as Hibari moves closer, stronger still when Hibari wraps his fingers around Kusakabe’s tie and pulls him down into a messy kiss, dryer and longer than their first one.
Kusakabe can’t react, too exhausted and too confused to shove Hibari away. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, doesn’t know if Hibari’s lost his shit entirely.
The kiss doesn’t stop, and Hibari places his hands on Kusakabe’s shoulders, tilts his head and pushes his tongue inside. It’s the sloppiest kiss Kusakabe’s ever had -far worse than the first time he’d ever made out with a girl. It’s too awkward, dry tongue bumping into his, licking his teeth. Kusakabe doesn’t think Hibari’s ever kissed anyone else despite his age, finds it weird to think that Hibari who has killed and murdered before is still completely a virgin.
Kusakabe finally pulls back, eyes fixed on Hibari’s face as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
“I’m not-“ Kusakabe starts, a dozen explanations on the tip of his tongue.
None of them come to fruition because Hibari’s lips look puffy and bruised, and when Kusakabe’s eyes run down the line of his body, he can see the bulge in front of Hibari’s pants. His own body has a visceral reaction, feeling something hot and tight clamp around his dick, and he wants to ignore it and go to bed because he’s tired and Hibari’s too weird sometimes.
Hibari steps towards him and starts tugging off Kusakabe’s jacket with harsh, jerky movement. He kisses him, and it’s still sloppy, spit rolling down Kusakabe’s chin as Hibari abandons the jacket and just starts on Kusakabe’s pants. Kusakabe can hear the clink of metal, the rough sound of his zipper being harshly pulled down.
He doesn’t know where to put his hands, whether or not it’s okay to touch Hibari. There’s a good chance he’ll have his hands cut off if he tries, but it’s hard to ignore the sensation to just grab onto something when Hibari’s fingers slide into his boxers, dip inside and wriggle against his crotch.
His hands close around Hibari’s shoulders, hug the thin bones and just squeeze hard enough to leave bruises. Hibari doesn’t try to kiss him anymore as he tugs out Kusakabe’s cock. His grip is firm and harsh, on the borderline of uncomfortable, and Kusakabe pulls the shorter man closer, fists his hands in the back of his jacket when he starts stroking.
He feels Hibari’s breath touch his ear, heavy as Hibari presses into him and pushes up into his leg. Belatedly, Kusakabe realizes Hibari is rubbing against him frantically, shaking in his grasp.
Hibari’s hand tightens around him, squeezes hot and sweaty around his dick, and Kusakabe thrusts against it. He knows he’s close, feels his thighs tremble as he digs his fingers harder into Hibari’s shoulder blades.
He hears Hibari’s voice rough and scratchy against his ear, sounding choked and hot. The pressure builds as Hibari jerks him off, too roughly, too painfully -drawing it out of him, forcing it, making Kusakabe hunch over and gasp as he comes.
Hibari is still unsatisfied, but he says nothing, merely shoving Kusakabe back against the wall and humping his leg. ‘If it was anyone else,’ Kusakabe repeats tiredly in his mind, trying to wrap his consciousness around what is happening. He can’t grasp it too well, only managing to stay still while Hibari drags his crotch along his upper thigh.
One glimpse at Hibari’s face, though, and he knows the shorter man is out of it. Hibari’s eyes are squeezed shut, and his body seems to be moving on its own volition, enough to make Kusakabe wonder if he’s even awake.
When Hibari finally slumps over with a quick exhalation, Kusakabe circles an arm around his thin frame and drags him over to his own bed.
The hand job, the kissing, everything was terrible, but it was better than nothing. It was better because it was Hibari, and Hibari doesn’t do this with anyone. Ever.
It’s hard to sleep after that, having difficulty finding rest after the memory of soft panting and a slimy, rough tongue in his mouth. Kusakabe doesn’t want to be himself when he wakes up, doesn’t want to deal with the morning awkwardness.
.11.
The apartment is gone, destroyed. Hibari doesn’t care, and Kusakabe tries not to. There seems to be a trail of destruction anywhere they go, anyway. Kusakabe focuses on surviving the day, instead, then thinks about wondering where they’re going to sleep.
They move around more often now from city to city even traveling to Italy a few times on Hibari’s whims. Every once in a while, they return to Namimori where Hibari thinks about setting up a new base camp but never does.
Hibari is still relentless in finding out about those boxes, now wearing his ring nearly all the time. Kusakabe watches him train, watches him get stronger and stronger, become a true mafioso. There are times Hibari leaves to see the Vongola family or what’s left of it. Kusakabe doesn’t know where Hibari’s motivations stand with them and thinks his loyalty only stretches so far -that Hibari seeks something personal to gain by protecting his ring.
He doesn’t even try to understand him anymore, merely trails after him and does whatever he’s told. Hibari, if anything, has earned more of his respect in the fast few weeks, leading the remainder of the Prefects, keeping them all alive.
He finds Hibari in an abandoned warehouse one night after a particular difficult fight. There’s not a drop of blood on him, though several dead enemies lay twisted and contorted by his feet, all of them drowning in a sea of red. Hibari’s tonfa are also stained red, dripping blood onto the floor.
Hibari’s smiling, though, which never bodes well for anyone. “Sawada Tsunayoshi,” he says slowly, drawing the name out like it’s something to be savored, his tongue wrapping around the syllables.
Kusakabe doesn’t know why he feels jealous, tries to ignore the annoyance and glance off to the side while pushing his hands into his pockets. “What about him?”
There’s no answer, but something looks ‘off’ with Hibari again, though it’s getting more and more difficult to tell.
“I want to fight him.”
The heaviness sinks deeper into Kusakabe’s stomach, and he wonders if Hibari even remembers the first fight they ever had. Sometimes, he still feels the phantom ache in his forehead and pictures the intensity of Hibari’s eyes as they smashed into each other. Hibari hasn’t mirrored an intensity quite like that in years.
.12.
The first time they fuck, it’s in a hotel, a dingy, small love hotel that feels both dirty and seedy, but neither of them are picky about that sort of thing. Hibari pushes him down, holds him, presses his fingers into his upper arms and applies force.
When naked, he looks a lot thinner and frail, all very tightly corded muscles and slender, long limbs. Hibari’s facial features have also grown softer and delicate with age, which baffles Kusakabe because up until now, he’s pretty sure puberty was supposed to create facial hair, strong jaws, and lots of bulging muscles.
The boyishness is gone from Hibari, and Kusakabe can’t get over how fucking smooth and pretty the younger man looks even when he settles himself over Kusakabe, applies invisible strength to hold him down.
It’s the first time they do it, and Kusakabe can’t escape his fate, only bites his lower lip and tries to deal with something going up his ass. It hurts, stretches, burns, and he hates it enough to want to shove Hibari off and try to beat him senseless for this. Maybe if he were drunk- but he isn’t, and he’d agreed to this willingly only because it was Hibari -only because he couldn’t turn him down.
It’s nothing like how it’s been with women, where he was thrusting into tight, wetness, holding their legs apart and making them shake. With Hibari, everything is out of his control, only bearing with the force, with the violent mess and inexperience Hibari is in bed.
When’s it over, and he feels like his ass has been split into two, he finally digs into the crappy liquor bar, fishes for the first bottle he finds and drinks the pain away. Hibari watches him, stretched out over the bed like a satisfied cat, smirking and unconcerned. It’s the most off-guard Kusakabe has ever seen him, possibly enough to forgive him for the current pain in his ass.
…and because he’s drunk, Kusakabe asks, “So… do I ever get to do it to you?”
“You try, and I’ll bite you to death.”
He supposes he should have expected that.
.13.
Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead.
Hibari doesn’t sleep that night nor does he speak to anyone. Nobody can find him at all, so Kusakabe returns to one place he knows Hibari will be.
Namimori.
There, Hibari stands alone, the bird perched on his shoulder as he looks at the place that had once been home to the both of them. Now it was a battleground, sullied with the blood of their enemies.
Hibari doesn’t look distressed or bothered, but he doesn’t like to mourn the dead. Instead, he fingers the ring on his hand and stands still beneath the solemn moonlight.
“I wanted a rematch,” he says abruptly, breaking the silence.
Kusakabe doesn’t know if Hibari’s talking to him or not, but he says nothing in response. There’s nothing really to say. He knows it’s not the end and that Hibari will keep fighting and protecting Namimori till he dies.
From the looks of it, Hibari is not quite ready to die, yet.
Hibari starts walking ahead of him, heading towards a new location. “Come on, Tetsuya.”
“Yes, Kyou-san!” Kusakabe replies and follows him.
~End~