[ his eyes go wide at first, then soft, head slightly tilting downwards but vision ahead, still looking up— armada could have very well done that, but . . . he chose not to.
his heart lurches midway through the response, almost sickening him as it shoots to his throat. he looks down, a side glance toward his hands, still covered by his mittens, the x-gloves he refuses to take off in fear of coming across another surprise attack, of being even more unprepared. the gloves he took up because he wanted it, to protect the people he loved like family from the start. they aren't meant for killing, he thinks, and even begins to doubt his choice and power. if it never happened, no one would have been after him and his friends to indirectly take him down, right? his life wouldn't have been turned upside down thanks to the crazy mafia shenanigans that revolved around him. he wouldn't be "vongola tenth". he wouldn't even be in the cdc— he'd be just good old no-good tsuna.
he wouldn't have had everything he has, now, including those loved ones, either. he'd be alone, depressed, and never would he have grown as much as he did. thinking again, he was lucky— he was lucky to have the people that surrounded him back home. he cherishes that, and he wouldn't trade it for normalcy even if it knocked on his door.
he has too much to lose if it happens again.
he felt sick, mostly because a large part of him didn't want to believe it, as much as it held a painful truth. this wouldn't be the last time. he'll try his absolute hardest to avoid it, that was a fact— but, if he had to, if he truly had to . . . what would he do? would he be able to? he didn't even want to think about it, to be honest—
his thoughts are interrupted when armada tilts his chin back up. his eyes, again, go briefly wide with surprise, and for a moment, he stares. they don't cascade, but tears do build, subtle and repressed. ]
If it does, I . . .
[ it hurts to think, both ways— ]
Won't . . . Survive.
[ he says it as if he's understood— something a strong, bold woman once said to him. if you die here, it means you would have only been a burden. if you want to live, you must survive. if you want anyone to live— survive. endure. endure suddenly rings louder, the last thing he heard from yamamoto.
feeling was hard. taking lives was hard when all you want is a happy ending for everything— life was never all happy endings, though. ]
no subject
his heart lurches midway through the response, almost sickening him as it shoots to his throat. he looks down, a side glance toward his hands, still covered by his mittens, the x-gloves he refuses to take off in fear of coming across another surprise attack, of being even more unprepared. the gloves he took up because he wanted it, to protect the people he loved like family from the start. they aren't meant for killing, he thinks, and even begins to doubt his choice and power. if it never happened, no one would have been after him and his friends to indirectly take him down, right? his life wouldn't have been turned upside down thanks to the crazy mafia shenanigans that revolved around him. he wouldn't be "vongola tenth". he wouldn't even be in the cdc— he'd be just good old no-good tsuna.
he wouldn't have had everything he has, now, including those loved ones, either. he'd be alone, depressed, and never would he have grown as much as he did. thinking again, he was lucky— he was lucky to have the people that surrounded him back home. he cherishes that, and he wouldn't trade it for normalcy even if it knocked on his door.
he has too much to lose if it happens again.
he felt sick, mostly because a large part of him didn't want to believe it, as much as it held a painful truth. this wouldn't be the last time. he'll try his absolute hardest to avoid it, that was a fact— but, if he had to, if he truly had to . . . what would he do? would he be able to? he didn't even want to think about it, to be honest—
his thoughts are interrupted when armada tilts his chin back up. his eyes, again, go briefly wide with surprise, and for a moment, he stares. they don't cascade, but tears do build, subtle and repressed. ]
If it does, I . . .
[ it hurts to think, both ways— ]
Won't . . . Survive.
[ he says it as if he's understood— something a strong, bold woman once said to him. if you die here, it means you would have only been a burden. if you want to live, you must survive. if you want anyone to live— survive. endure. endure suddenly rings louder, the last thing he heard from yamamoto.
feeling was hard. taking lives was hard when all you want is a happy ending for everything— life was never all happy endings, though. ]
What do I do—? I-I don't know how I'll react if—