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Canon: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Summary: Giotto tried to talk to Spade after Elena's death. (First Person, Giotto)
Warnings: uhm... angst?
“…Spade?” I’ve been standing outside his door for an hour now; somehow, the bruise where he’d backhanded me when he’d stormed off stings more than the crack I took in the shoulder when I got thrown back or any of the other real injuries from that fight. “Please, let me in.” There wasn’t an answer; I shifted my weight, reaching up to rub my cheek.
“This is your fault.” He’d almost walked away… “You gave up, you took apart everything we’d built, you let them in, if you weren’t so – weak –“ …
If I hadn’t taken apart the offensive force that also served as our defenses, she’d still be alive.
I slumped, hand and forehead against his door. “Spade…you were right. I … was tired, tired of the fighting, and I didn’t …I knew better. I knew people just … aren’t that good, that there’s always another one to take the place, but – I didn’t want to believe it; I wanted to think that maybe, maybe we’d made enough of an impression for things to actually change, and I … thought maybe the world didn’t need us anymore. I was wrong. It … it is my fault, and I’m sorry.” As much as she wasn’t one of the “Guardians”…she may as well have been; ever since we’d met her, even if she wasn’t there for many of the fights, she’d been a constant presence for all the best times – she was the daughter my mother would’ve wanted if she hadn’t taken ill. “Spade, please… let me in. Please … you don’t have to be alone.” Even if it would just be the both of us breaking down on each other… I could always go to one of the others; he wouldn’t, particularly not at a time like this.
The latch clicks; I straighten up, waiting –
He does open the door, but not enough to let someone in; just enough to stand in the doorway, and he’s smiling. It’s obvious to me that he’s been crying, been just as broken as he was when I saw him on the field, and his presence is still a mess of jagged edges and broken bits, but he’s smiling, and there’s not a single thing out of place that I can see – he’s using an illusion to cover, and the smile’s one I’ve seen before.
Usually when we were dealing with some kind of society function and had to make nice with one of our targets.
That stinging sense from when he’d struck me sinks and knots up; not only is he – not willing to trust me anymore, he’s putting up all of the masks he’d have when he’s hunting, and I’m sure he knows that even with all of that show I can still feel the seething mass of resentment and hate – he’s close enough and it’s loud enough that I can almost feel his spear in my back.
And I’d already lost one of my Family.
“Really, Primo – I’m the one that should apologize; I shouldn’t have struck you – I was still in shock. Do forgive me.”
I should say something – want to say something – but that lump’s like trying to breathe and talk around a throat full of tar.
“There’s not much I can do to help right now, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to retire for the night.”
“…Spade-“
“Good night, Primo.” The door shuts.
That’s … two of my Family that I’m losing – that I lost – and there’s nothing I can do.
It takes a few minutes to turn and leave; not much else registered the rest of that day – I know I did go back to my room, and had the door locked, but that’s about it.
Summary: Giotto tried to talk to Spade after Elena's death. (First Person, Giotto)
Warnings: uhm... angst?
“…Spade?” I’ve been standing outside his door for an hour now; somehow, the bruise where he’d backhanded me when he’d stormed off stings more than the crack I took in the shoulder when I got thrown back or any of the other real injuries from that fight. “Please, let me in.” There wasn’t an answer; I shifted my weight, reaching up to rub my cheek.
“This is your fault.” He’d almost walked away… “You gave up, you took apart everything we’d built, you let them in, if you weren’t so – weak –“ …
If I hadn’t taken apart the offensive force that also served as our defenses, she’d still be alive.
I slumped, hand and forehead against his door. “Spade…you were right. I … was tired, tired of the fighting, and I didn’t …I knew better. I knew people just … aren’t that good, that there’s always another one to take the place, but – I didn’t want to believe it; I wanted to think that maybe, maybe we’d made enough of an impression for things to actually change, and I … thought maybe the world didn’t need us anymore. I was wrong. It … it is my fault, and I’m sorry.” As much as she wasn’t one of the “Guardians”…she may as well have been; ever since we’d met her, even if she wasn’t there for many of the fights, she’d been a constant presence for all the best times – she was the daughter my mother would’ve wanted if she hadn’t taken ill. “Spade, please… let me in. Please … you don’t have to be alone.” Even if it would just be the both of us breaking down on each other… I could always go to one of the others; he wouldn’t, particularly not at a time like this.
The latch clicks; I straighten up, waiting –
He does open the door, but not enough to let someone in; just enough to stand in the doorway, and he’s smiling. It’s obvious to me that he’s been crying, been just as broken as he was when I saw him on the field, and his presence is still a mess of jagged edges and broken bits, but he’s smiling, and there’s not a single thing out of place that I can see – he’s using an illusion to cover, and the smile’s one I’ve seen before.
Usually when we were dealing with some kind of society function and had to make nice with one of our targets.
That stinging sense from when he’d struck me sinks and knots up; not only is he – not willing to trust me anymore, he’s putting up all of the masks he’d have when he’s hunting, and I’m sure he knows that even with all of that show I can still feel the seething mass of resentment and hate – he’s close enough and it’s loud enough that I can almost feel his spear in my back.
And I’d already lost one of my Family.
“Really, Primo – I’m the one that should apologize; I shouldn’t have struck you – I was still in shock. Do forgive me.”
I should say something – want to say something – but that lump’s like trying to breathe and talk around a throat full of tar.
“There’s not much I can do to help right now, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to retire for the night.”
“…Spade-“
“Good night, Primo.” The door shuts.
That’s … two of my Family that I’m losing – that I lost – and there’s nothing I can do.
It takes a few minutes to turn and leave; not much else registered the rest of that day – I know I did go back to my room, and had the door locked, but that’s about it.
