Merry Christmas, everyone, especially pinkedoll! I loved the art angle you took in the beginning of Monochromatic Sun, so I decided to run with it here, sort of. You might also find references to a song you were singing on FB a while ago xD I tried to emulate your way of breaking scenes with words instead of line breaks... yeah, that didn't work so well. Oh well! R&R please :)

Disclaimer: I took to long to post this damn thing, so Santa told refused my request to own KHR for a day.

Inspiration came in unwanted bursts, the force of which often left him dazed. A splash of colour would catch his eye and hold it indefinitely; a shattering of glass from a drive-by would captive him with its fallen pattern; the observation of a target would turn into an appreciation of contours and edges until his hand ached to sketch out the image flitting through his head.

He would respond by clutching his gun harder, shooting faster and distracting himself with the adrenaline rush of living on the edge. A child of the street had no time to waste drawing pictures instead of blood.

Over the years, he managed to achieve some sense of normality. By drenching himself in the mafia, his artistic moments reduced to listless flashes, for which he was infinitely grateful. Yet as his hit list grew longer and his reputation more formidable, he gained the time to explore his unasked-for gift. Not long after becoming known as the world's best hitman, he secretly attended some art classes and lectures.

Still, he never drew even the simplest doodle. One does not become the best only to slack off. To do so would be suicide.

He regretted it later, when his hands became so small they were only fit to hold crayons. In his despair at his new form, his inspiration vanished. He was cast adrift, lost for the first time he could remember, and it was only the darkness of the Vongola that kept him anchored to reality.

The void that was once a place of creativity became home to a violent nature that he had rarely before used outside missions. Now it was his norm, and a whole generation of mafia bosses carried the scars.

One day, he promised himself, he would find his inspiration again and this time he would not hold it back, but let it go.

(ThePastIsInThePast)

It was years before he drew anything, and the normality of his doodle led him to dismiss it. It was far from what he imagined a return of his gift would be. After all, a pair of thin lips pulled into an embarrassed smile was more likely his libido talking than inspiration.

He saved the drawing though. It was the first he had ever created.

( KingdomOfIsolation)

It was his second sixteenth birthday when inspiration came again. A night avoiding his ex-students and their rambunctious Guardians, had him on the rooftop of his apartment building with only Leon and an empty sketchbook for company. Despite his best efforts to concentrate, the page remained blank, leaving him to gaze at the cloudy sky, bored out of his mind.

He picked up the soft sound of releasing Flames and soon enough, his protégé was hovering above the railing, smiling down on him gently. "Hiding, Reborn?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dame Tsuna."

Tsuna laughed as he landed next to his ex-tutor. "So you just sit on the rooftops on your birthday every year?"

His tutor deigned not to reply, focusing again on the blank page on his lap. The pencil slid aimlessly across the pages – nothing but shading, really. It was just an excuse for him to ignore Tsuna.

The Vongola Neo Primo was unmindful, flopping down next to him with such little thought for his suit that Reborn almost winced. But he didn't and the silence stretched on.

"I never knew you draw," Tsuna said finally.

Reborn shrugged, tilting his hand so that he could start joining lines together. He still didn't know what he was doing.

"Do you really want to be alone on your birthday?"

"Would I be out here if that wasn't the case?"

"Sometimes, what we think we want is the opposite of what we really want."

"Don't steal my lines," Reborn glanced at him, remembering saying the same thing when Tsuna become the head of the Vongola.

Tsuna sighed, probably realising it was a lost cause to keep Reborn company. "As you wish, Reborn." He stood slowly.

Reborn returned to his sketch, and blinked as he realised he had drawn an eye. A very stupid looking eye too, he thought.

While he pondered why he had drawn such a thing, he missed his student coming closer, until warm breath brushed against his cheek.

"What-?"

His question was cut off by a quick press of lips against his own.

"Happy birthday, Reborn," Tsuna whispered before using his Flames to leave.

That night, Reborn painted a sky full of stars.

(BreakThrough)

Reborn had learnt the folly of avoiding his desires when he had lost his gift and his adult body in one day. He had sworn to never experience that regret again. So when his birthday had passed and he began noticing his student more and more, warning bells began to ring.

He shouldn't have been so surprised. Tsuna may have once been useless, but he had risen above his old nickname. He was the type of Sky Reborn had never thought could exist, even surpassing Luce in that regard. Ever since they began working together, Reborn could almost feel the sin being bleached out of his soul. He was no longer a reaper but a guardian, a protector of the people who once feared that he would come for them next.

It was laughable how quickly and easily Tsuna had managed to change the Vongola. It was even more ridiculous how readily the mafia followed his lead. But what was most ludicrous was how much Reborn wanted him to succeed, not only with changing the mafia, but changing Reborn as well.

It was only when he realised this, that he discovered the change had already begun.

(Couldn'tKeepItIn)

It wasn't hard to see that his ex-student wanted him too, even without considering the kiss. During meetings, Tsuna's eyes would always find his before making important announcements. Tsuna would always wander near, if not stand right beside, him at parties and whenever he was with a lover, Tsuna's body language clearly spoke of disapproval. As his own feelings were unearthed, he often found excuses to touch Tsuna and as the days passed, those touches would linger and Tsuna looked happier.

At the same time, his inspiration came back in a flurry until there wasn't a day that he didn't cover a page with hurried sketches.

"You should consider selling them," Tsuna remarked one day, leaning over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the coloured blotches dancing over his sketch book. "Doesn't Hayato know some curators?"

Reborn turned to meet his gaze, and became mesmerised by the warm shade of chocolate that had just the slightest sprinkling of orange within them, only visible at a close range.

"Maybe I will," he replied. Tsuna responded with a smile.

The chocolate became richer, and the orange seemed to shift towards gold. How many others had appreciated the complexity of these eyes?

Reborn barely had to move to cover Tsuna's smile with his own, exerting a gentle pressure that matched their first kiss. It took maybe a few seconds before Reborn returned to his vignette as if nothing had changed.

But everything had. Their matching smiles and Tsuna's head resting on his shoulder was proof enough.

(LetThemSee)

"Really, Reborn, it would be in bad taste for you to be late to the opening of your own art exhibition," Tsuna said, following the scent of expresso to his lover's art studio.

"I am never late, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn replied. "Did you find my tie?"

"It was in the bedroom, where I told you it was five minutes ago," Tsuna huffed, moving to lope the yellow fabric around Reborn's popped collar. He deftly tied it with practised ease, ignoring his advisor's wandering hands until it was done. Reborn thanked him with a slow kiss that had them both panting when they ruefully pulled apart.

"So," Tsuna said when he had caught his breath, "what exactly is keeping you busy here? I'm pretty sure Marina didn't leave anything behind when she blew through here." He wasn't exaggerating the art curator's behaviour; she had been so excited with her 'discovery' of Reborn that it was surprising that she had left Reborn alone this week. Of course, his little visit to her workplace with a full entourage of armed guardians had nothing to do with that decision at all.

"I made sure she didn't see this one," Reborn answered, running his hand down Tsuna's cheek as he held him closer. "It was hard enough getting her to leave that one alone."

He nodded towards the wall where he had pinned the pieces of his first doodles together. Tsuna scoffed; no matter how many times Reborn said it, he still didn't think that the collective image was of him.

"So what's so special about this one?"

"It's an early Christmas gift for you."

Tsuna's eyes lit up, quickly pulling away to see the lone canvas. It was surprisingly simple oil piece: creams and ivories met the palest shades of yellow as they curved around a bed frame. A brunette was hugged by a sheet, his shoulder bare, while fingers clutched a dented pillow.

"I've been struggling to name it," Reborn said, wrapping his arms around his lover. "I wanted to call it Home, but that's just lame. At the moment, I'm deciding between Warmth," Tsuna smiled, "What I want to Wake up to for the Rest of My Life," Tsuna turned to face him, mouth parted, but Reborn continued on as looked ahead, tracing the painted hand with a finger, "or, and this is my favourite, Let's Get Hitched."

Tsuna followed the path Reborn traced and noticed a thin band of silver had been depicted on his ring finger. He laughed quietly as he held out his hand. "I like the last one too. Where's my real gift?"

Reborn kissed his temple before handing over the black box. While Tsuna slipped the ring on, he picked up the paint brush and signed his name of with a flourish.

(I'mFree)