A/N: Ilove you guys ^w^ 

Comments=motivation=faster updates 

Published: 1/29/17

Enjoy! 

。

冷たい心のキラー。

。

Too many inexplicable things happened at once.

Tsuna saw Yamamoto fall, he saw the triumph and hallow smile playing on the man's lips, he saw the whole world slowdown in a manner of which has never felt before, and he saw himself, without even giving it much of a second thought, leaping downwards towards Yamamoto's falling figure.

Now, dripping wet with cold and icy rainwater pouring down on them and almost, undeniably falling to their impending doom, Tsuna desperately tried to hold a tight grip onto the ledge whilst clutching a wide-eyed and dumbfounded Yamamoto with him, not daring to look down for in fear of dying. The old tarnished fence above them rattled with vibration from the strain of the heavy rainwater, and it broke, slowly descending towards their direction. Luckily, the wind stirred it away from its course and it fell down the ground with a resounding clatter.

Tsuna sighed with relief; but it was short lived. The ledge he was currently trying to hold tightly to was slippery and damp, and it was very much obvious that they didn't have much time left and needed to devise of a quick and strategic plan.

The brunet cursed vehemently under his breath when the cold droplets fell on him like ice, making him blink back the salty tears that were threatening to roll off his eye socket.

He winced from the heavy weight that his old classmate brought with him, along with the sudden cry of pain his joints screamed. "Yamamoto-kun, whatever happens, don't let go!" As if that statement couldn't get any more stupid, but Tsuna wasn't going to risk anything, having just witnessed the wild and almost mad-like look in Yamamoto's eyes not too long ago.

Tsuna casted a brief and worried glance down towards Yamamoto's direction, before shifting his attention to the crisis at hand, which was falling to their death.

"I c-can't pull us b-back up there," Tsuna pointed out, teeth chattering as the cold seeped into his cheap summer clothes, the heat slowly leaving his body as a newfound iciness filled him. "I-I'm too weak t-t-to pull as up," the brunet finished, breath coming in shaky and small gasps as the rain continued to ruthlessly pour down on them. True to his words, Tsuna's arm – that was firmly holding onto the ledge – was turning an unhealthy and dangerous combination of blue and purple, and where it not for the rain that was piercing through him like a million shards of tiny glass, he would've swore he heard it crack. He whimpered. Even if Tsuna didn't hear it snap, the pain that shot throughout his body from the injury was all-too real and authentic.

They didn't have enough time left.

Desperately, Tsuna's head frantically whirled left and right for a way out, scouring for a solution for their dire situation. The only thing that met his frantic gaze was the blurry sighting of two pair of trees defiantly and firmly standing amidst the harsh downpour, its brown torso dry despite the repeated banging of rain drops. In that moment, an idea – or rather, hope – sparked to life in Tsuna's mind.

"Yamamoto-kun!" he called down, voice pitched in a shrill and piercing tone. "Y-Yamamoto-kun, c-can you hear me? I want you to listen—" He cut himself off midsentence when he saw the blank and eerie expression etched on the baseball fanatic's face, lifeless despite the cold and painful weather.

"Y-Yamamoto-kun . . .?" Tsuna asked, fear ringing in his voice. "Yamamoto-kun, it's n-not safe here, w-we should—"

"Why did you jump after me?" Tsuna furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"W-What?" Yamamoto looked up to meet his gaze, still hallow and stoic. "Why would you jump after me? You should've just left me to die, you know." He switched his cold and unyielding gaze back to the ground. "I'm better off dead."

Tsuna, for the life of him, couldn't comprehend why he was so furious. His blood boiled with steaming hot anger, and his hand tingled with the sudden urge to connect it with Yamamoto's cheek. "Yamamoto-kun, is this truly what you want?" His voice was strong and firm, surprising both the jock and the brunet. "Did you ever consider, or spare your father a second thought? What would he feel if you did dive down to your doom, if you decided to end your life right here and right now?" Tsuna's eyes narrowed at the other's unexpected silence. "As I suspect, you didn't. Yamamoto, listen to me." At this, Tsuna's eyes softened. "I know it's hard for you, I know that the grief is suffocating and hard to bear, and I know how it feels to simply want to just end it all and go down the path of never-return . . . but think about all the people who are also suffering with you, think about how your death would affect them. Suicide isn't an answer, Yamamoto-kun; suicide is running away from the truth and leaving it behind."

His hold tightened, ignoring the scrutinizing and unbearable pain seizing his lithe body. "So don't ever think about throwing your life away again, alright?" Throughout his whole speech, Yamamoto had stayed silence. Tsuna hoped that was a good sign; he hoped that the tall raven-haired man absorbed what he said and took it to heart.

"I . . ." Yamamoto seemed to finally found his voice after a terse silence. "I-I never thought it that way . . . Sawada, I—" Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, Tsuna let out a harrowing and piercing scream. Both his arms started to twist, the pain almost making him cry and loosen his grip on the ledge. Yamamoto's face blanched significantly after he discerned Tsuna's injured condition.

"Y-Yamamoto-kun, w-we . . . don't have m-much time," Tsuna managed to say through pained gasps. "L-Listen to me . . . y-you see that t-tree? I n-need you t-t-to jump down that tree—" He gestured with his chin. "—after the count of three . . . okay?" Yamamoto nodded, a new kind of determination plastered on his face. Tsuna smiled thinly.

"One . . ." The brunet heard his left arm shatter.

"Two . . ." He saw those brown, almost hazelnut orb sharpen.

"Three!" At the signal, Tsuna broke his secured grip from the ledge and both men hurdled themselves towards the pinnacle of the two plants. Yamamoto, with his keen senses and seven years' worth of training as an athlete, landed with frightening accuracy and relative ease towards the shrubby part of the tree. There was a bit of a rustle, but the brunet was pretty sure he was safe and unharmed.

But Tsuna? He wasn't so lucky.

His screams pierced through the air like the howl of a baby wolf, and he so desperately tried to hold onto something that would lessen the fall, but his jagged nails and injured arm tore uselessly on the tree branch and he ended up tumbling down the ground with a resounding and sickening crack.

With a start, Tsuna's vision dimmed, his limbs sagged lifelessly, and his breathing hitched in a way it never did before and turned ragged.

His eyelids felt heavy with fatigue and pain and . . . something else. And, with the sound of raindrops encouraging him and lulling him back into sub consciousness, he closed his eyes, welcoming the inevitable darkness that was luring him in.

"Tsuna!"

xXx

When Yamamoto heard the dreadful cries of Sawada Tsunayoshi that would surely haunt him for years to come, he thought he would never be able to live with himself.

Yamamoto wasn't able to do anything but helplessly watch Tsuna's injured and broken figure descend down the ground. It was only after he heard the loud and inhuman crack was Yamamoto able to find his voice again. He felt like a retarded fuck. As an athlete, he noticed long before Tsuna did in how his slender arms started to crack and break and he cursed himself up and down for being so stupid in not acting upon it sooner.

He jumped down and hobbled his way to the still figure of the brunet, more determined than ever to save him.

"Tsuna!" he roared, voice cracking from the harsh downpour.

His blood turned cold at the lack of response and he quickly heightened his speed.

What met him made him gasp, not in fear, but in horror. The fall was cushioned by a bush, thankfully, but that certainly didn't lessen the worst part of the damage. Tsuna looked beaten and bruised and dead and all around horrible. His arms were limp and . . . and he didn't even want to describe it, guilt gnawing away his senses like millions of tiny insects. It made the bile rise in Takeshi's throat and threatening to spill every single substance he consumed this morning.

The moan that came out of the gap between the brunet's lips snapped him back to reality and at the danger his companion was in. Without hesitation, he scooped the brunet into his lap with his head lolling pitifully to the side (cold, too cold) and draped the jacket he had worn previously over the brunet's slender shoulders, seeing as he was shivering badly.

Then, he dialed the number of the hospital, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a flurry of incoherent words. After the man on the other side told him to calm down, Yamamoto thundered, "Help, I'm in Namimori high and my friend is in danger! P-Please, he's shivering!"

"Stay where you are and don't try coming here," the man said, trying to sound reassuring. "We're on our way."

xXx

The paramedics had carefully placed Tsuna's limp body on a stretcher with an oxygen mask attached to his face (God, Sawada's condition was that bad), and they ushered Yamamoto in, asking what happened and giving up when they realized it was futile, seeing as the man stayed docile and silent throughout the whole ordeal.

Arriving to the hospital was the least of Yamamoto's worries. Sawada's body temperature was too high, inhumanly so, giving way for the start of a high fever. The man reluctantly had to move out of the way to let the medics do their side of the work.

Yamaamoto was staring, worried – the first ever human emotion that flickered crossed his face after everything that transpired tonight – at how Sawada was still shivering and not recovering from his injuries despite of all the various procedures the nurses were applying to him. One of them, who Yamamoto assumed was the head, shook their heads in near resignation. "We really need to get him to the hospital, Mr. Yamamoto," the man addressed him solemnly, sympathetically. "We can't treat him like this. His condition is worsening—" As if his body shut down and went into an auto pilot mode, Yamamoto grabbed the man by his collar and shoved him to the wall. The force of it was so strong; the man stumbled and jerked, eyes wide with fear.

"You better make sure you keep him alive, you got that?" Yamamoto hissed, his voice sounding strange and foreign, even to his own ears. "If not . . . then I guarantee you that he won't be the only one in a hospital bed." He sounded so terrifying and serious that the head nurse nodded his head, eyes convulsing with terror. The others' followed suit; mortified at the strange man before them.

Pleased with himself, he dropped the man in a not-so gentle manner and watched apathetically as he scrambled out of the dark looming figure's way, looking back at him fearfully eyes with several other pair of eyes' trained on him. "Well?" he inquired, eyes narrowing. "Do what you need to do. Now." The paramedics scrambled all over themselves, fear evident in their expression. Yamamoto scoffed at this. Even if they were trained professionals, they were cowardly weaklings in the face of a threat.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital. Yamamoto was given a towel to dry himself with.

He noticed how the few witnesses of his sudden display of violence were trying to situate a distance, but he didn't care or heed them a second glance. All his attention was fixated on the limp form of his savior, who still looked bruised and tattered and run over by a truck.

Yes. Yamamoto did indeed feel like stabbing himself after he spared another glance towards Tsuna's beaten form.

After following the stretcher for a solid five minutes, the doctors and the nurses combined forced him to wait outside in the waiting area while the doctors did all sorts of things to Sawada in the red and beeping room which he couldn't identify or put a name at.

Stupid him, Yamamoto thought once the guilt and shock subsided, stupid, stupid, stupid me.

If he hadn't been so pig-headed and idiotic about the situation, he could've spared Sawada the pain and suffering. But no. He just had to fucking involved him with all of his problems and issues, resulting in the brunet getting hurt and injured in the process.

Still though. Yamamoto's eyes watered. He . . . talked to me. He looked me straight in the eye and talked to me. How many people can do that, and still emerge unpretentious? Sawada was so . . . amazing.

Yamamoto was left speechless and had no words to describe how the brunet looked when they were inches away from death. Sawada's eyes had turned sharp and orange; a stark contrast to his normally brown and soft eyes, and Yamamoto swore he even saw a flame ignite on his forehead like the sudden flicker of candlelight within a dark and uncanny room. Those eyes were sharp but they were kind and understanding as they bore into Yamamoto's soul.

Yamamoto-kun, his eyes pleaded firmly, please don't jump.

After that, Yamamoto had woken up, realizing for the first time in how terribly close he was to death. He realized this matter a little too late and Sawada payed the price for his stupidity. Yamamoto hated himself for it.

Tiredly, the raven-haired man silently put his head in-between his knees, and made no move to stop the tears from falling down his face.

I'm sorry, Yamamoto's eyes seemed to convey. I am so sorry . . . Tsuna . . .

xXx

One Week Later

xXx

"I feel like shit."

Those were the first words that came out of Tsuna's mouth once he was stirred back into consciousness and immediately regretting such a choice not even a few moments later after he noticed the vibrant waves of the sun blaring into his face. God, he didn't need sunlight right now. What he needed was probably two more days of burying under the covers and snoring without a single care given to the world. (His fingers twitched with the desire to give the sun a good ol' slap in the face but decided against it since the sun was 92, 955, 887.6 miles away.)

Tsuna sat up, and almost instantly, an unbearable and horrendous feeling pierced through him, making his eyes twitch with irritation rather than in pain.

The first thing that the brunet noticed was that his arm was placed in a cast (yay) probably broken from yesterday's (or was it?) fall, second was the basket of fruits that he immediately deducted came from his mother, and thirdly, in how his throat felt like it was being rubbed with a piece of sandpaper. Tsuna looked over to the television in front of him and rolled his eyes. What a wonderful sight to behold so early in the morning.

Great, he thought. I feel like shit, and I even look like shit too.

His reflection looked like a zombie, or a corpse . . . or anything related to the dead. His hair was damped and tousled and looked like an absolute rat's nests from lack of care. His eyes were sunken, his mouth dry, his entire body pale and thin, and his right arm had a bunch of unwanted needles pinned to it, like a mocking reminder of his unhealthy state.

I look like a corpse, he mused in dried amusement.

No kidding, his counterpart said, agreeing even.

Tsuna heaved a long sigh but no sound came. Just the puffing of breath. He felt irritated. All this for one tiny cold?

Before Tsuna could even ramble and make another long list in the reasons in why God hated him, a flash of white caught his attention and intruded his inconsequential thoughts. Curiously, he peered through his pitiful vision and saw a bouquet of White Tulips laying innocently amongst everything else on the small nightstand.

Carefully, he reached out and took it, irritated thoughts momentarily vanishing as the white blossoms gleamed beautifully in the sunlight (flowers always had a cryptic way in calming him down). Noticing the card that fell down his lap, he took it, brown eyes scanning over the paper.

Tsuna's lips quirked, a sign of a forming smile. Somehow, he felt like an incredibly heavy and suffocating weight was lifted off his shoulders after his eyes swept through the small contents of the greeting card.

Chuckling, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Sorry and I hope you get well soon." –Yamamoto Takeshi.

xXx

White Tulip:

Forgiveness; I am sorry.