Encounter With A Stranger

Disclaimers: I will say this once and only once. I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! and I will never, ever own it. (Unfortunately.) Frank Sinatra and his song, Best Is Yet To Come, also does not belong to me.

He couldn't imagine being without him. The relationship they shared – he was completely dependent upon the other man. Pathetic. It was as if he was a parasitic leech, suction-cupped onto Romario's body, absorbing not blood, but the ability to function correctly on a day-to-day basis... Absolutely pitiful. It was surprising that he was even able to sit upright on the bar stool without toppling over. Without Romario.

This game of balance was always one that he lost, along with the frequent failed duels against gravity – his worst enemy. Always tripping, always dropping, always falling, always losing. Loser. He was well-acquainted with that word. Loser. No-Good-Dino. And people wondered why he sympathized with Tsuna.

Words. Words were painful. Words were suffocating. Fuck them.

"Can I get you anything?" A low voice murmured, a secret for only his ears to hear.

"Gin." Finally, a word he actually liked. A three letter, one syllable, no-nonsense word. A word that, unfortunately, accompanied him throughout some of the most difficult times of his life. An invisible hand slid a glass across the smooth counter to him, as his brown eyes studied the liquid.

Contained in a thin, sweating glass, the amber liquid glowed caramel in the dim lighting of the bar, the inebriant beckoning to him. A sweet siren call that Dino Cavallone rarely ignored.

On the other hand, it wasn't like he'd drink himself to oblivion. No, it was nothing like that. It was just to take the edge off his day and to forget. To forget his dependence. To forget all the names. To forget all the faces.

He brought the glass to his lips and drank, letting the liquid slip down his larynx. He savored the familiar burn against the back of his throat and took another swig. He felt the edges soften with every drop he consumed... Bliss.

Being the head of a Mafia was no easy feat.

And neither was drinking, apparently. The glass slipped out of his grasp with a clink before the alcohol emptied itself onto the mahogany surface of the bar. Fuck. The chuckles from the other customers smothered him like smoke from the cigarettes that hung from their down-turned lips.

"Sorry."

"Hey, as long as you're still paying for it... spill as much as you want." The bartender wiped it off with a rag as Dino's gaze rested upon her for a brief moment.

"Can I have another?"

"Sure." Another glass slid into his awaiting grasp.

"Thanks."

Located in a dark alley of Italy, this bar was... well, just that. A bar. There were no frills, no tacky jukebox, no fancy lighting fixtures... No, this was a place to smoke, play pool, drink alcohol and waste away the hours of the night. Nothing more, nothing less. An aspiring singer crooned Frank Sinatra on the stage, but no one paid attention to him. No one ever did.

"He's not too bad, is he?" The quiet female voice inquired, as Dino looked back at the bartender who uttered these words. It was surprising that she saw where he was looking, as the only source of light were a couple of flickering lamps that hung from the ceiling.

"I've heard worse. Hey, barkeep," Dino started, as she filled a large mug with a light gold beer.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever felt like you couldn't live, no, couldn't function without another person?"

"A pretty deep question to be asking a bartender, eh?" She pulled her long, chestnut brown hair into a ponytail as her green eyes focused on the man sitting across from her.

"Just humor me." He gave her a subtle once-over, not too impressed by what he saw. Clear olive skin, large eyes, not fat, not skinny, not voluptuous, not flat. Average.

"Yeah. I have. See this?" She rolled up her left shirt sleeve to expose the name Daniele tattooed horizontally across her wrist. "Yeah, I thought I did, but turns out, I'm doing okay."

"Daniele, huh? What happened?"

"Shit happened, like it always does. Now I'm working my ass off in order to take this," she thrusted her arm in his direction. "This off. Word of advice? Never tattoo anyone's name on your body."

He laughed, the sound quickly obscured by the quiet clacks of the pool balls colliding into each other and the warbling singer. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. You doing okay?"

"Eh, I'll get over it. Just another stupid boy, you know?"

She was easy to read. The uncertainty in her eyes were clear, and her words... it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself along with Dino. Hesitation. That was obvious. In the end, she was still a woman. To his knowledge, women were sensitive creatures. He took his hand in hers and gave it a tight squeeze.

"You'll be fine." His tone was firm. Words filled with promise. He could see her face light up as a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "You'll be fine." He repeated, louder. She'd be fine. They'd both be fine. He pulled his hand away from hers to retrieve a couple of bills from his wallet. He dropped them on the counter before hopping off the stool and exiting the bar.

Best is yet to come and babe, won't that be fine? You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine...