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Xanxus frowned, pulling at the tie around his neck. He never understood why the trashes insisted on cutting off their air supply with a piece of fabric. It was annoying, and it gave the enemy something to strangle you with.
The sky let the offending garment hang loosely around his neck and grabbed the whiskey glass on the table before sitting down on the red, slightly worn-out couch that had been pushed against the wall. The crystal glass was quickly emptied and then refilled.
Xanxus grimaced. He really shouldn’t be drinking so much before his own wedding, but with Lussuria leaving to fuss over God-knows-what, the reality that he was getting married was sinking in, and the anxiety was quick to follow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this twitchy. It was as if something seemed to be gnawing at him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Xanxus grumbled under his breath. He stood up. He needed a distraction.
He grabbed the suit jacket Lussuria had left on the couch and threw it on. The cufflinks on the table were quickly added to the ensemble as he went to inspect his reflection in the giant mirror a few meters away.
The sky frowned as he stared at himself. He brushed his fingers through his hair, attempting to stop it from looking like he’d fucked a farm’s worth of chickens, as Squalo had once not so delicately put it. The shitty shark had earned himself a glass to the head for that one, and Xanxus had made sure to make comments about looking like he’d fucked a pretty shark every time they slept together until Squalo lost it and tried to skewer him with a sword.
Xanxus threw a look over his shoulder at the father clock on the other side of the room. Ten minutes before it was time to walk down the aisle. Ten minutes before the ceremony started. Ten minutes before marrying the love of his life. Ten minutes before Squalo would be his spouse. Ten minutes before he’d see Squalo in his wedding suit.
He closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to wander. Lussuria hadn’t allowed Xanxus anywhere near Squalo’s outfit for the occasion. The vindictive sun had, however, cheerfully teased about the existence of a bouquet and the possible existence of a veil. Xanxus just knew that the shark trash had dragged everyone into a whole ass stand-up comedy routine before he agreed to it. He snorted at the mental image of his Rain throwing his mandatory hissyfit.
The sky rearranged his collar so it layered nicely with the coat that he just put on. He stared at the mirror for a couple more minutes.
Suddenly he turned around and went to grab his whiskey glass again. Pressing the glass to his lips, he closed his eyes and let his legs carry him around the room aimlessly.
He ended up in front of the window, throwing his eyes over the tree line, searching for sniping spots and the like. A frown appeared on his lips, and he turned back to the room and placed the glass on the table. The room felt entirely too small.
Turning on his heel, Xanxus went to check everything in the mirror again. He scowled at himself, displeased with how restless he was feeling. He dragged his fingers through his hair, glaring at his reflection as if it had just told him he had a meeting with his shitty father he had to personally attend.
Seemingly displeased for whatever reason, he went to take another sip from his drink and maybe pour himself some more whiskey while he was at it. He grabbed the glass, taking it to his lips and drowning the burning liquid.
A flash of burning hot pain passed through his flames.
His glass dropped, smashing on the hardwood floor. The sky’s knees hit the ground. He coughed, grabbing his chest. His heart pounded. His flames roared. He looked around, his disoriented eyes unfocused, trying to land on something—anything—to stabilize himself. The pain intensified, burning through his flames. His bonds ached. Everything seemed to tilt to the side. He pushed his flames down the bonds, towards his guardians. Luss was fine. Bel was fine. Mammon was fine.
He doubled over. Squalo was missing. His bond with his Rain was gone, stump bleeding flames everywhere.
He needed to find Squalo. His body moved on autopilot. The world around him blurred. Nothing was there anymore, just colors.
He ran.
He needed to find Squalo. He needed to find his Rain. He needed to find his Shark.
He sprinted. Corridors blurred together. The pain in his flames pulsed through his entire body. His entire being felt like it was collapsing in on itself. His lungs burned. His muscles were screaming. His flames expanded, willing to destroy everything around him.
Tumbling through the corridors, his eyes suddenly focused on a door. With no second thoughts, he threw himself through it, leaving behind broken wood. His eyes searched for Squalo before he even entered the room properly.
Silver hair caught his eye.
He stumbled.
Lying on his side, in a pool of blood, was his Rain. The red liquid still flowed out of a wound on his back, contrasting sharply with the white of his suit. The veil attached in Squalo’s hair was completely soaked in blood at this point.
Xanxus collapsed next to him. With frantic movements, he took his Shark’s body into his arms.
Without a second thought, he pressed his flame covered hand to Squalo’s wound, forcing it to cauterize. Calloused fingers quickly went to the Rain’s neck, searching for his pulse. The sky waited for something—anything that would indicate that Squalo was alive.
Nothing.
Xanxus felt his eyes sting.
“Get up, shitty shark.”
He grabbed the pale man’s wrist, hoping against all odds that there would be a pulse there.
Nothing.
Xanxus felt as if he was drowning under water. In one last desperate attempt to convince himself that his lover was alive, he pressed his ear to Squalo’s blood-soaked chest. He recognized the placement of the wound. He knew there was a whole in Squalo’s heart. He just refused to let go of hope.
There was no pulse, no heartbeat, no nothing.
Xanxus felt the world crashing down around him. A scream of agony ripped from the sky’s lips. His trembling hands pulled Squalo’s body close as tears streamed down the sky’s face. His hands fisted in the man’s jacket and stupidly silky hair, displacing the comb that was keeping the veil attached in the Rain’s hair. Xanxus caught a glimpse of it. Tears swelled up in his eyes. His heart screamed.
Squalo, who had access to a huge variety of priceless heirlooms, had decided to wear the first ever hair decoration Xanxus had made for him. It was a hair comb meant to hold Squalo’s ever-growing hair in a bun.
Xanxus remembered making it. He remembered the hours he had spent on the fine metalwork that went into the decorative part. He remembered the way his palms sweated, his heart accelerated, and his breathing slowed as he waited for his partner’s reaction. He remembered the sheer joy and marvel on the Rain’s face.
Squalo, who had access to priceless jewelry, some of it dating back to the 15th century, didn’t want expensive, flashy gifts. He wanted heartfelt things that the giver had clearly put effort into. It had been what had pushed him to make their engagement rings by hand instead of commissioning them from Talbot. Squalo was so delighted that he had told Xanxus that those were the rings they were using as wedding bands.
And now Squalo was dead. Squalo would never get to wear the ring again. He’d never get to pull on Xanxus’ flames through the stones on the rings ever again.
Xanxus hid a sob in his lover’s hair. The silver strands, that had always brought him so much comfort, felt cold against his face because he knew he would never get to bury his face in it again. He would never get to kiss it again as they cuddled. He would never get to braid it again.
Click.
Xanxus’ eyes snapped up. The sudden noise had made him aware of the presence of other people in the room.
A few meters in front of him, leaning against a desk, was his blasted “father”. The old man was nonchalantly inspecting a pistol in his hand. To his left and right, Visconti and Coyote were sneering at Xanxus.
The old Don placed the gun on the desk next to him and looked at the younger sky, an uninterested glim in his cold eyes. It made Xanxus’ temper flare.
“I’m sorry, son, but I told you it would happen if you didn’t listen.” The old man’s voice echoed around the room while he acted as if Xanxus was to blame for this. As if Xanxus had pushed him to do this.
The younger sky saw red. His flames surged, pushing for revenge. He snapped. His flames roared and ate everything around him.
Xanxus pulled Squalo closer.
The men screamed.
Nono grabbed the pistol and fired.
Everything went black.
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Xanxus woke up in cold sweat. His heart was pounding. The gunshot sound echoing through his mind.
He automatically sat up, trying to just get some air in his lungs. It, honest to God, seemed like an impossible task. The room spun around him. He placed his forehead against his palms. His hands felt so numb. The only thing he felt was the blood on them. Squalo’s blood. Squalo’s blood that wasn’t actually there. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.
“Xanxus?”
Was that Squalo? A pale hand appeared in his field of vision. Squalo pulled himself from under the sheets and sat in front of Xanxus.
“Xanxus I need you to breathe with me.” Squalo’s voice cut through his daze. It was much quieter than usual.
Xanxus, who could still see Squalo’s lifeless body with his mind’s eye, felt the need to check that the other man was really there. He raised his hand and clumsily placed it on Squalo’s chest. There was no blood. He could feel the Rain’s heartbeat.
Squalo slowly, with telegraphed moves, placed his hand over Xanxus’ in a grounding move.
The white haired man took deep breaths and long exhales, with the sole purpose of helping Xanxus even out his breathing. It was a practiced routine.
People in the Varia tended to have a range of issues regardless of where they came from or what they had been doing before they joined. Belphegor was a rather glaring example of the more extreme end of the scale. Squalo had had a front row seat to his Sky-flames-withdrawal-induced meltdowns. He had also been the person to help him out of them because sending anything other than a Rain or Lightning anywhere near a volatile Storm with huge flame reserves was just asking for said person to be turned into a puddle on the floor. Their set didn’t have a Lightning, so Squalo it was. The Rain had gotten insanely good at breathing exercises.
As Xanxus calmed down, Squalo carefully pulled him close and laid them back down on the bed. He made sure to place Xanxus’ ear over to his heart so the sky could keep track of his heartbeat.
He’d figured out after the battle with Jaeger that letting his sky feel that he was alive while cuddling was the quickest way to calm him down and lull him back to sleep. A twinge of Rain flames made it so that he wouldn’t be woken a second time that night due to another nightmare.
“Squalo” his sky’s voice was hoarse. It made the Rain wanted to punch someone in the face.
“Voi. Yea?” He answered, throwing the blankets over them.
“Old man threatened to kill you and Luss if I didn’t obey him.”
Squalo froze, processing all the implications of that statement.
He swore. Of-fucking-course Nono did. Squalo regretted little in life, and right now he regretted not ending the Ninth generation. How fucking dare Timoteo Vongola disregard even the most basic of decency? Squalo was so telling his cousins. Timoteo should have known better if he didn’t want the entire Superbi family on his head.
Threatening a sky with the death of an element was a taboo in the Vongola Alliance, and many families outside had followed their example. If the guardian was killed during a conflict, retribution was expected, but that was that. Deliberately holding it over a sky’s head? Yea, that was flat out psychotic in a way that got you killed. Quickly and painfully.
But of course it appeared that Don Vongola considered that the laws and social rules of the Vongola Alliance were for other people, not him. This wasn’t the first time he’d blatantly disregarded standards while holding everyone else to them.
Everything was made worse by the fact that Xanxus married into the Superbi family, so he was now, as per family rules, a Superbi sky. Nono was going to die, and Squalo had a feeling that their entire set was going to demand to have a hand in it.
Suddenly Squalo was hit by a realization. The new information explained a lot of his sky’s decision since he had been defrosted. Initially the Rain had assumed that the whole ring battles thing had been due to Xanxus not having untangled his head from the ice yet, but this new tidbit of information changed everything.
Squalo seriously regretted not running Timoteo through with a sword. A really rusty sword. A really rusty, blunt sword.
The Rain took a deep breath and forced his flames to remain calm and stable. The last thing he wanted was to set off his vulnerable Sky.
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” The rain replied, cocooning them both in his flames, offering his sky something to latch on to.
“Dreamt that he shot you on our wedding day.” Xanxus’ voice was so small that it made Squalo want to drag their entire set there to take care of their sky and then stalk off to murder someone. Preferably Timoteo. And Coyote, because the bitchy storm was an embarrassment to the Superbi name even though he had long since left it behind.
“Got married half a year ago.” Squalo pointed out. “Fucker hasn’t noticed yet.” He continued.
A razor-sharp smirk made its way to the rain’s face.
“At this point, even a blind man would see what he’s missing. Must be going senile.” The rain mocked.
Xanxus snorted, amused, as always, by his rain’s ruthless vindictive streak.
“Still head of the Vongola.” The Sky pointed out. He’s still in power. He can still screw us over. We’re still under his thumb.
“There’s nothing we can change about that unless you feel like accidenting both him, Sawada, and possibly Baby Sawada. I’m sure we would have a whole list of volunteers for the job if we got the word out.” Squalo mussed.
Xanxus snickered.
“Plan treason later, trash. We have a meeting with the pony in the morning.” The sky said shifting into a more comfortable position.
“Maybe we can get him to join in.” Squalo half-joked conspiratorially. His old school friend wouldn’t probably be on board with killing Sawada junior, but the head of the CDEF and Nono were definitely still on the table.
“Sleep, trash.”
The rain grumbled for the sake of grumbling, as he always did, but did settle down and closed his eyes. He discretely threaded rain-laced fingers through his sky’s hair, only falling asleep after making sure that his sky wouldn’t be plagued by any other nightmares.