Hi hi~~

OK SORRY FOR DELETING PARALLEL SKIES AND IT'S ELEMENTS BUT I DECIDED I'LL JUST DO ONESHOTS SEPARATELY. SORRY FOR INCONVENIENCE. SERIOUSLY. SORRY.

Saw a pic/comic thing on Facebook. It was called Once upon a time or something.

It was so fluffy and sweet. I had to do this. HAD TO. Of course with my skills (or more lack of lol) I have failed to make this fluffy. Like god dammit. Though it is quite bittersweet so it wasn't a complete loss and while I rushed a bit (finished in 3 days!) I do quite like how it ended.

Enjoy~~

It started with a dream as with many thoughts and emotions and feelings came from.

The dream was warm and soft. Not words most people would identify the dreams of one Mukuro Rokudo. But then what did those people know? Those people were idiots. Bloody idiots.

To be fair though usually his dreams were not warm and soft. Not since recently anyway.

Before he had been plagued with incessant cruel mocking nightmares that would make the illusionist want to just hide in his bed and cry and take comfort in his own lone shadow because he feared that was the only thing he could ever hope for in company. That wouldn't look down at him for his fears and power and snide remarks not to mention his overall personality and need to push everyone away with lies and insults. Nightmares about his pathetic past and the tortures and the humiliation of his life.

He hid it all- his fears, his insecurities, everything- under this vast suffocating blanket of dark vicious hate. He hated the mafia, he hated those fake lies almost everyone spouted, he hated water and hated being looked down on.

But most of all he hated his boss.

Sawada Tsunayoshi.

He hated him out of everything because Tsuna had looked at him with such open acceptance and honesty and, and kindness- him who hated and should be hated in turn- that Mukuro had found himself slowly not hating things. And every time the brunette looked at him like that he hated a little less and a little less.

That was the scariest thing. Mukuro if all else, was strong. His parents had failed to break him, Estraneo failed to break him, the Vindice and their godforsaken water cell had failed to break him. But Tsuna and his kindness.. that very well might.

Tsuna was stupid and naive and childish. He wasn't just an idiot like everyone else. He was a special kind of idiot. One bred for the sole purpose of being the bane of Mukuro's goddamn pitiful existence.

And Mukuro…

Mukuro...

Mukuro absolutely hated that he loved it.

The dream as said before was warm and soft. Sickeningly sweet like melted caramel and chocolate. It was about Tsuna. Of course it was about Tsuna. Tsuna and him. Together. When the brunette smiled that beautiful smile that made all words meaningless and air leave gladly from his lungs it would be all for him. Large doe eyes looking at him with affection and love and everything he secretly always craved for in this bitter, dark, ruthless world. Him taking the courage to reach out and hold the younger's small hand and relish the feeling of those delicate hands that hold so much power in his own, reciprocating that small gesture of affection.

It was a dream of wants and desires that had been repressed and denied for so, so, so goddamn long that it had physically hurt every time he looked at the Vongola Decimo. But now, for just a moment, as he explored and let himself dream these dreams that he knew would never be a reality, Mukuro felt like that weight in his chest, that heavy feeling of all his built up emotions that he had long ago bottled up had lightened. Just a little.

"You might think people hate you in this world but you have to think about why they would hate you... maybe it's because you have something they don't or they like something in you that they can't show. Never believe that people hate because all it means is that they love."
― Unknown

When Mukuro woke up there was a heart floating above his chest.

Not a real heart with blood and guts and veins. But those hearts you see on Valentine's cards and balloons and other such nonsense he'd always thought to be beneath him.

But this wasn't a card. Or a balloon. This was just a heart. The size of his palm. Glowing a soft indigo colour with a soft pink hue. And it was floating in front of him.

Hesitantly the male counterpart of the Vongola Mist Guardians sat up from his bed and grasped the little heart in a mix of curiosity and weariness. It was surprisingly squishy. Pleasantly warm too. Amused Mukuro pinched the little heart, poking it curiously like a child. He'd had stranger things to wake up to in the mornings anyway.

Suddenly his bedroom door banged open and the illusionist stuffed the indigo heart under his blanket, holding it tightly so it doesn't float away. He'd had stranger things but it would be rather embarrassing for rumours to fly around that the sadistic scary Mist had been in the presence as something so mushy and cutesy as a heart. Hell most of Vongola still were having trouble wrapping their heads around the fact he had a heart.

"Mukuro?" Oh God. He recognised that soft tentative voice. It had been echoing in his dreams saying embarrassingly sweet nothings not a few minutes beforehand. Without even thinking he replied.

"Kufufu yes Tsunayoshi?" Good. Casual. He suspects nothing.

An all too familiar face framed with gravity defying chestnut hair peeked from the cracks of his bedroom door. Large caramel brown eyes blinked at him curiously and a little sheepishly. "Sorry but have you seen Lambo anywhere? He threw a tantrum apparently and I just thought..." The brunette trailed off uncertainly.

Mukuro raised a brow. "You thought the cow might have been with me?" Tsuna shrugged, a rather fetching blush growing on his cheeks. Mukuro wanted so desperately to know if that beautiful pink would darken under the caress of his lips. He promptly stomped down that urge. Stomped on it and mentally burned and buried it six feet under.

Instead he allowed himself to chuckle darkly. "Kufufufu, what sort of joke is this?"

The brunette's brows scrunched up clearly confused. "Joke? There's no-"

"Of course there is." The illusionist snapped, all niceties and strained humor shoved aside. "If you honestly believe that the cow child actually would voluntarily go near someone like me for, for comfort- then you're obviously a bigger fool than I thought!"

Even after all these years, serving Vongola, loyally he might add, everyone still looked at him with suspicion and doubt. He wasn't stupid. He heard all the stinging whispers behind his back, the sneers of distaste and endured the razor sharp double edged meanings when they talked to him. But he knew very well why he was being treated like this. His past deeds and sins even to the mafia- truly laughable that- were too much to merely shrug off.

He was a monster.

"If you truly think so lowly of yourself," Tsuna glared in a strange mix of anger and sadness yet no trace of pity, Mukuro felt his throat tighten and it honestly was like he couldn't breathe, "than its you whose the bigger fool than I thought."

And with that thought provoking declaration the door slammed shut. Leaving the shocked Mist Guardian alone, heart clutched in his hands and a restrained apology choking at the back of his throat.

Did Tsuna mean that? That he was a fool? That he was wrong? That he wasn't this ugly broken thing?

It seemed stupid. Tsuna always stood up for him. Even when he refused to stand up for himself. Actually especially so. The brunette was the sky that seemed to just keep on accepting and accepting and Mukuro honestly thinks he's going to burst from these feelings that are threatening to consume him with just those simple string of words that had come from the Vongola Decimo's lips-

*pop*

Heterochromatic eyes stared at a small little indigo heart floating inches from his face.

Slowly he looked down to see his own hands still holding an indigo pinkish heart then back at the smaller floating one of deep purple. Realisation finally decided to hit him and he dropped the first heart- which mockingly floated right next to the other. Both glowing softly.

Suddenly the hearts didn't seem so amusing anymore.

"I honestly hate you. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just it hurts. It hurts to love you. So I've decided I hate you."

-Unknown

*pop*

The Mist Guardian cursed as another one of those heart shaped bubble things appeared, he had gotten careless. At least he was alone in the hallway when he had let his mind linger on Tsunayoshi. Mukuro would rather lose to the damn skylark in heels than to be discovered with this humiliating illness.

Grabbing the little heart he glared at it with all the irritation he had. The thing just glowed innocently, this one was a more prominent pink. Fantastic.

Turning his head to make sure no one was there the illusionist then practically ran to the nearest window, opened it, shoved the heart out and quickly slammed the thing shut. Only then could he breathe a small sigh of relief. Maybe he can pull this off. He just needed to endure this for a short while. It'll be alright. No one will know.

"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves."

― François de La Rochefoucauld

"Oi Pineapple head!"

A vein throbbed on his forehead. Plastering a fake smile on his face he turned to meet a certain Storm Guardian. A certain angry Storm Guardian.

"Kufufu, and what do I so gratefully owe to deserve your presence?" He asked dryly. Mukuro was already tired what with the whole heart situation and he had given all his paperwork for the month this morning. He was in no mood for short tempered bomb enthusiasts.

Emerald green eyes glared at the pineapple haired male as he waved a stack of documents in his face. "THIS! What the HELL?!"

Mukuro was just about to open his mouth to make a scathing retort involving use of eyes and the intelligence of a half dead snail but it turned into a strangled choked noise of panic as he finally saw the tiny dark indigo hearts falling from the pages of his work.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshit.

His face betrayed nothing thank god. Instead he raised an eyebrow and smiled, albeit a very forced one. "Oya? You think this is my fault?" Mukuro waved a glove clad hand dismissively, "Honestly you've obviously got the wrong scent puppy," Gokudera bristled visibly at the insult, "Why would I out of all people choose to use something as sweet as hearts?"

The last word was bitterly spat out like something foul dared to invade his mouth.

Emerald green eyes were no longer filled with fury, it had simmered down to some vague annoyance and actually some amusement. The illusionist somehow felt his stomach both sink and leap to stick to his throat.

"Then what is that on your sleeve?"

Mukuro was horrified. Like the younger male pointed out, there on his right arm was one of those damn heart. A light indigo with a pink glow just sticking to his immaculate black Armani suit. Fucking hell. All six levels of them.

Gokudera- damn him and his being an observant genius- must have picked up on his fellow guardian's horror as now all irritation was replaced with complete bemusement. Thankfully the silver haired man must have concluded the surprise and shock to some sort of innocence or victimisation of a cruel and very unusual prank. He merely chuckled, told him to be more careful and walked away.

The moment he had completely left the halls Mukuro peeled off the heart- literally on his sleeve- and snarled at the squishy thing.

"Are you happy now?"

The heart just glowed.

"I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do so. I do not know, but I feel it, and am in agony."

― Napoleon Bonaparte

The breakfast meeting had been a nightmare.

*po-SLAM*

The guardians stared at Mukuro who had out of nowhere slammed his coffee mug on the table. The illusionist tried his best to look like he had not embarrassed himself and cleared his throat.

"That.. That was not decaf."

Everyone still stared. Tsuna who was looking at him in curiosity and puzzlement, shifted slightly, tugging his cape- seriously Mukuro didn't even understand how someone could look so regal and sexy in a cape at 7 am whilst eating bacon yet here Sawada Tsunayoshi was, once again exceeding his expectations- closer to his body before smiling mercifully. "Ne, it's rude to stare guys. Now where were we-?"

Gokudera, always eager to please his boss began and soon everyone had forgotten that embarrassing action of his. Mid way through he had caught Tsuna's eyes and the brunette gave him a knowing secretive smile that could have been nothing yet made his mouth go dry and stomach flip. All he could do in response was nod subtly back and gave his own small rather shy awkward smiles. The ones that might as well have him carrying a flashing neon sigh which read, I love you so much, too much to speak let alone behave like a complete rational person anymore, how could you do this to me?

*pop* *pop* *pop* *pop* *pop* *pop* *pop* *po-

Mukuro sighed resignedly. At least the hearts had the decency to pop under the table out of sight this time.

"I hate love. Love ruins everything about me and my dignity."

-Oyelle Gebaña

"Shamal I need your help."

The womanising doctor stared. Mukuro wanted to bite his tongue off and just bleed to death in this particular moment. But if he did that then not only would he have died embarrassingly, he would have died embarrassingly after asking for help.

But help was what he needed. And he needed that help now.

Shamal looked like he was about to protest. But then he must have saw something. Maybe the look of worn exhausted desperation, the toll of the stress and constant paranoia it took to hide his secret or maybe it was just the fact it was Mukuro asking for help. Either way the older male shut his previously gaping mouth and walked straight passed the Mist Guardian murmuring, "Come with me."

In the infirmary the doctor shooed everyone out and locked the door. When he deemed the area secure he faced the illusionist. "What do you want then?" He asked like he didn't just clear out a whole medical facility for him. If Mukuro wasn't so distressed about the whole situation he might've felt a bit.. touched. "This better be good by the way, I usually only treat women."

Mukuro didn't say anything. Instead he dropped the large suitcase he had been carrying which opened upon impact. A flurry of heart fluttered out, all different sizes and varying shades of purple and pink. Shamal looked completely blindsided. Clearly he had not expected this.

"Is this..?" The doctor breathed, "Yours?"

"Can you do anything about it?"

Shamal was tentatively reaching out and holding the closest heart. "How did this happen?" He asked.

Mukuro frowned. He had wanted the man to be able to just immediately diagnose him and give him some sort of drug for all this. But it was expected after all. Tedious. But expected.

"It happened three days ago. Every time I think about Tsu-" He bit his lip as he inwardly cursed. Shamal quirked a brow but said nothing, silently prompting for more information. "- A certain person, hearts appear."

"Let me see." Shamal had a glint in his eye. Scientific curiosity. Mukuro hated that glint. It reminded him too much of the past. However he obliged, mainly because nowadays only the thought of Tsuna could distract those dark consuming tendrils of hatred.

The brunette smiling in exasperated fondness at one of his more mischievous pranks, he had even laughed on a few occasions, completely failing to look stern and reprimand him. The countless times he had saved and been saved by him. Those moments when they brush past each other and Mukuro can feel his skin warm and shiver at the same time where he'd been touched. The-

*pop*

*pop* *pop* *pop* *POP*

Before the two men knew it even more hearts just appeared, floating and glowing warmly. Delicate and beautiful.

"Fascinating. Never have I seen such a more obvious case of Lovesickness."

Now it was Mukuro's turn to stare.

"Excuse me?!"

"Lovesickness. There's an actual scientific name of course but I'm sure you're not interested in that."

Shamal sighed, "It's an extremely rare branch of the Skullitus family. However instead of skulls on your body saying all your secrets you get hearts popping around every time you well, think about your desired person. The only cases that have ever been recorded are few however it's been concluded that only very strong flame users actually have a chance to show symptoms. Though Mist users have a higher chance than other flame types. A strong feeling of love mixed in with Deathperation flames of equal strength is capable of producing these symptoms."

"That's great." Mukuro answered curtly even though it clearly was not. "Now what's the cure?"

"I can't help you."

"…What?" The question was quiet but clearly sounded strained. Then it turned hard and angry. "Oya oya? What do you mean you can't help me? Is this because of my gender?! I thought you've finally got your standards straightened doctor." He sneered spitefully, hiding the shock and pain and fear. Shamal to his credit did not rise to the taunts. Instead he just looked sad.

"I cannot help you because there is no cure. The disease will have to naturally pass."

Naturally. As in, either he would have to get over Tsuna or his feelings would be reciprocated.

Or he died.

Mukuro felt the fragile world around him shake and slowly crumble. Of course this would happen to him. He was the universe's bitch after all. Plagued by his own feelings of love being practically thrown into his face by stupid little hearts until the day he died. Because there was no way Tsuna would ever love someone like him. Someone so twisted and cruel and dark. And he knew deep down that it was equally impossible for him to ever stop loving him. No matter the punishment and humiliation and anguish it might bring.

"Thanks." He managed to croak out. Shamal actually looked sympathetic. Not that he cared anymore.

The illusionist felt very, very weak. And he hadn't felt like this for a long time. He hated this. And he hated Tsuna for putting him through another layer of hell he didn't even know existed.

Turning around he swiftly walked to his quarters, biting his lip to distract the itching sensation in his eyes. And even when he got to his room he refused to weep or wail. Mukuro had already shown too many emotions, had already made himself so vulnerable with it all. So he went into bed and slept.

"To hide feelings when you are near crying is the secret of dignity."
― Dejan Stojanovic

He had, had enough.

Mukuro groaned as he could now practically lie down on the small hill of purple hearts. There was no way he could hide his… 'condition' anymore. And he was too tired to try anymore.

He would be able to handle the mockery and jeers of the mafioso. That didn't matter. It would be trying at first but what did those scum's opinions really matter to him? Nothing.

No what he will not be able to handle is if, when Tsuna finds out. He'll be worried obviously. In his own way like how he worries for everyone else. Mukuro wasn't special. Mukuro Rokudo was just one of the many the Vongola boss accepts and protects and cherishes. And when the brunette finds out that he, of all people, had misunderstood the kindness and formed feelings that run deeper than mere camaraderie…

*pop* *pop* *pop*

The illusionist watched sadly as a small cloud of tiny dark indigo hearts flittered around his head before migrating to the hill of other hearts. It was amazing. So many hearts. All varying shades representing his various of love. Yet his own one, the one that beats in his chest and pumps blood that allows his wretched soul to live- that one is still just as heavy as ever.

His thoughts were paused momentarily as he heard the soft knocking on his door. Not wanting anyone to see him in such an unsightly vulnerable state the illusionist scowled. "Leave."

To his anger and indignation the person did not. Instead to his utter dismay the door was opening. Mukuro wanted to cast an illusion, to do something to stop the intruder however he could not bring himself the strength to do so. illusions took concentration, mental strength and stability. Things at this moment he did not have.

"Mukuro I'm coming in." The voice was soft and firm and determined, he recognised that voice, that beautiful beautiful voice that haunted his dreams and plagued his delusions. He could feel his heart freeze with fear. Would the brunette know? Would he immediately see that this mountain of hearts, these feelings he had so secretly and painstakingly harboured were for him? Would he reject him?

"Mukuro I'm worried about y -oh." Mukuro shut his eyes. He didn't want to see the inevitable as childish and cowardly it may be. He did not deserve this. He deserved many things but not this. Wasn't it all enough already?

"Mukuro look at me."

He refused. He knew he must look like a child. A pathetic one. But he still refused. His eyes shutting the reality before him.

But even with his eyes squeezed shut he could imagine the brunette assessing everything with his eyes and his intuition helpfully supplying the missing blanks. Tsuna would know. He would know everything. And then he would laugh at how stupid his mist was, think how hypocritical he was, after all those years of undermining the brunette's innocence and kindness in the mafia it turned out he was the naive one who let himself care too much.

No. Tsuna wouldn't do that. He was too nice. And that honestly was even worse. Mukuro was used to scathing comments and pain and torture. His tolerance for such things was probably the best among Vongola. But there had been nothing in his life to help him build up a resistance to gentle kindness, to Tsuna. Tsuna would try and let him down gently. A soft rejection. And that will feel so much worse.

"Mukuro… please open your eyes. Please."

His voice was pleading and quiet yet thrummed with power and determination and… something else Mukuro had never heard before. Warily he obeyed, revealing tired heterochromatic eyes which widened at the sight before him.

Tsuna wasn't looking at him pityingly or sadly or even amused. Instead Tsuna, Tsuna who he longed and pined so desperately, hopelessly for, was blushing madly, a small shy smile adorning his features and in his hand- Mukuro could feel his eyes widen and his whole body tingle in a strange mix of excitement, disbelief and so much hope he wondered why he hadn't combusted from it all- in his hand,

was a beautiful, little orange heart.

"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince