Title: Untethered
Summary: Sometimes, it's easy to forget that Hibari can feel things other than anger.
Hibari sits, chin resting between knees folded to his chest, hands limp by his sides under the jacket draped over his shoulders. His tonfa are nowhere in sight.
It's raining, a cold and miserable day, and he's on the rooftop of Namimori Middle School; drenched completely from head to toe, back pressed to the chain-linked fence, hair cutting across shaded eyes staring at the person standing in the rooftop entrance, or perhaps the pouring rain—it's hard to see much else in this weather.
Dino is standing by the door, chest heaving faintly from his sprint to the top. Hibari's looking at him—or at least his eyes are—but he isn't, not really. Dino feels strangely humble under the unseeing gaze and he wonders, a touch mournful, what Hibari sees.
Because this is what Dino sees: the water has softened the corners of his scowl, the sharpness of his glare. He looks like a tiny, vulnerable thing, huddled into a ball as he is. This is Hibari muted, diluted. It is, Dino considers, more than a little unsettling.
Water splashes across his nose, his face, off the edge of the umbrella slipping from his lax grip. Dino blinks owlishly, freed from this strange tableaux, and readjusts his grip as he steps out from under the frame of the doorway. With hastened stride he reaches Hibari in less than ten long steps. Without a thought, he extends his arm over his student, cutting a wide column of space through the rain. The water parts around the umbrella, avoiding Hibari like crowds, and eagerly drowns the dry fabric of Dino's jacket, shirt, pants until he's just as soaked as Hibari.
Hibari regards him for perhaps a second—a second where Dino waits with baited breath, expectant of the usual cutting insults, but there is none, nothing at all, just the constant pitter-patter of breaking droplets—and then his eyes flicker back down, staring now at Dino's knees because he's inconveniently blocking everything else.
"You shouldn't be out here, Kyouya," Dino admonishes with a heartfelt sigh. "You could catch a cold in this rain, a fever even. Aah, I won't be able to get those hamburgers you like so much if you're sick. Romario would never let me feed them to you. Kyouya, you'll be stuck in bed eating nothing but chicken soup for weeks." He pauses for a moment, thoughtful. "I could try making beef soup, even. It's not as hard as that red bean rice cake Reborn wanted. I don't even eat red bean!" But ah, Dino chides himself mentally, you are digressing.
"Kyouya, you like beef don't you? Is that your favorite too?" Dino angles his head to the side, waits, a warm smile on his lips. He's not actually expecting an answer, but sometimes he can't help but hope with short, expectant gaps between long-winding sentences.
Uninvited, Dino moves to sit next to Hibari. He mimics his posture—daring even to press their sides together, thigh to thigh and shoulder not quite to shoulder, because Dino is not short and Hibari isn't exactly tall.
The umbrella domes over them, encasing their world in a bright, blue sky adrift with fluffy white clouds. It is big enough to shield away most of the rain, but the act is ultimately futile when they're already soaked down to the bone.
Dino says, quietly, "You don't mind if we share, do you?" It isn't a question, but it's not a demand like Hibari's not-questions are. Louder, he continues, "It's not nice when rain falls into your eyes." He tilts his head back and runs a hand through his fringe, slicking it in the process—water is most frustrating when splashing from his lashes.
"Don't like having wet socks either. I don't think anyone likes wet socks. Your feet must be swimming by now if mine are in puddles." Dino stamps one sneaker-clad foot, grinning when it squelches and overflows. He makes a face as he wriggles his toes. "It feels quite miserable doesn't it? Kind of like that feeling you get when you try and walk through a lake," he says as if walking through a lake with his shoes still on is of the usual daily occurrence. Wetness ghosts like fingertips through the chain links, drills onto his hair, slides down his nape. Dino shivers and huddles closer to Hibari, because Hibari is surprisingly warmer than he is.
"I bought a house, did I tell you? Though it is perhaps less a house than it is a—oh! What are they called again?" Dino waves his free hand around in his thinking gesture. "Roken? No, no." He furrows his brows, waves his hand around some more; it's at the tip of his tongue— "Ah, Ryokan!" He beams feeling rightly accomplished; it is the correct word, he knows, even if he's pronouncing it wrong. "It's really large, Kyouya, enough rooms for my men, you see. Close to this school as well. There's a large basement too—Romario thinks I should make that the training room—you would appreciate that, wouldn't you? Though maybe it is a bit too small. You've always liked open spaces." Dino hums. Hums again, as if he's pondering something rather profound.
"Did you know? I've always wanted a traditional place—although those shoji are not a cool as they look. I've already torn through five of them!" Dino laughs disarmingly, eyes creasing into a smile aimed at his student. "But don't worry, Romario's already got someone on it so it should be fixed in no time. I don't know, maybe I should get them all replaced? They are so very impractical. Who's idea was it to make doors out of paper—paper, Kyouya!" He huffs at the perceived indignity, but deflates just as quickly, head dropping back and rattling the fence behind.
"It's so big and empty with just Romario around right now, like one of those haunted mansions. Do you believe in them? Ghosts? Mamma did. She always told me—"
"Cavallone." It sounds almost like an insult, and from those lips, of course it is.
Dino's nattering grinds to a halt, breath catching in his throat. His gaze drops immediately to Hibari, surprised, just a tiny bit hurt even though he had been expecting it, but Hibari isn't looking at him.
"Shut up," Hibari mutters. He is glaring, mouth twisted in a frown that's not as vicious as it should be. Dino pays no heed, because he's entirely bewildered with how tired Hibari sounds. Hibari never sounds tired, not even when all the bones in his body are broken, when he's a bleeding mess at Dino's feet.
Dino winces when his brain catches up to his mouth; figures he'd bring up the one thing he shouldn't have mentioned. Between them, the bar of the umbrella rests heavy on Dino's shoulder, presses cold into the tattoo on his neck.
Oh, Kyouya, Dino thinks, and falls silent.
And so they sit, side by side, despite the continuing onslaught of rain. Under the fake imitation of a bright, sunlit sky, Dino is staring blatantly at Hibari staring at the painted underside of his umbrella. Minutes turn into hours, hours into an indeterminable space of time that has Dino fearing it to no longer be daytime, not even night—perhaps early morning? He should call Romario, maybe even Kusakabe—he'd been absolutely frantic, the last he saw him—but his phone is no doubt waterlogged.
The school roof has flooded, just enough to lap over the top of Dino's sneakers. The weather is frighteningly torrential, thunder rumbling angrily along the clouds; no one in their right mind would be out on the streets.
A frown hardens the line of his lips. Enough is enough, Dino decides at last. Any more time Hibari needs will be spent in a warm bed, after he's clean and dry and fed. With a cautious, tentative hand, he reaches for the boy, slides his arm around a thin waist, tugs him to his side. It's enough that Hibari doesn't protest. He exhales softly, relieved to be free (if only momentarily) of the usual violent repercussions, and drags Hibari to his feet. Immediately Hibari slumps into him, a cold, shivering mess on legs numbed to weakness, but Dino doesn't mind—welcomes it, even.
"Let's go, Kyouya," he murmurs into Hibari's ear and leads him home.