Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"...I thought about it," Hanma said, "because everyone uptalks skies and all that."

Hanagaki blinked at him from where he was sitting, trying to eat his cereal.

"How do you guys keep getting in?" he asked, looking around Hanma and to his window. It was closed, and Hanma, at the very least, was holding his shoes in his hands instead of walking around in his shoes like a heathen, so he supposed he wasn't that upset. It took him days to get the mud Hanemiya tracked in once, and even then, Mitsuya came and just did it for him. 

"Hey, hey," Hanma said, snapping his fingers, "Focus. I'm in front of you right now. You know, I could get the job done and kill you and be done with it."

"Then you would have," Hanagaki deadpanned back, still trying to look around and behind Hanma. Like seriously, he locked all of his windows and doors every day, so how were people getting in without breaking anything? He wondered if he should just be happy that they didn't break anything. Maybe that's where he was in life now. "Can you just," he made a motion to the window, "Leave? I haven't even finished breakfast yet." He dragged his spoon through the cereal, and took a big bite. Slurping loudly when the milk spilled against his lips, he chewed and swallowed quickly before he started to spill it everywhere. 

Nothing was easy.

And Hanma frowned. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tilted his head to the side.

"...Aren't you happy?" he asked. "There's no way you haven't heard of me." Hanagaki resisted the urge to roll his eyes and cursed Kisaki for introducing them. He did not NEED a cloud, despite what everyone said. He had lived just fine, all this time, without any guardians anyways. "And once you're my Sky, you'll always have me. I look like this, but I'm a very loyal man."

"I know," Hanagaki replied, taking another spoonful of his cereal. "But I don't want you. And to be honest, rather than a sky that suffocates you, and a cloud that I never see, wouldn't it be better to not do any of that at all?"

Hanma was silent for another moment, and Hanagaki gave a deep sigh. He pushed his bowl to the side and extended his hand towards the man. Hopefully, his cereal wouldn't get too soggy.

All of these guys were the same, so this should be fast.

"This is what you're here for right? Here, let's share flames, and then you can leave when you figure out that I'm not worth your time. I'm not strong enough to handle you." He was very well-aware of that, even if Taiju never complained about it. 

Pushing off the counter he was leaning on, Hanma stalked over with ease. Hanagaki wasn't wrong. That was why he was here. But still, having it thrown back in his face like that made something coil in his gut. He dropped his shoes on Hanagaki's dining table, smiling sweetly at the look of disgust his host sent them. 

With a hum, he took his hand and released his flames at full-blast. If he was even half as good as everyone said he was, then this should be easy for him to maintain.

But instead, Hanagaki's other hand clasped on top of his.

"Oh god," he said, suddenly alert and another emotion Hanma had never received before. 

Bringing the taller teen closer by the hand, he frowned. And that fire, that stupid taste of his sky flame, came licking in. Hanagaki, who he only met a handful of times and barely exchanged blows with, pinched his eyebrows together. 

"Hanma-kun, are you okay?"

And Hanma hated it. The encroaching warmth of someone who was loved and beloved was something that poured liquid warmth into his veins and he hated it. Like someone had grabbed him by the feet and yanked him underwater, and suddenly, he was drowning in that orange. His eyes looked up locking with Hanagaki's gaze, and felt like he was flying. He stared, petrified and frozen in that state, and felt something anchor him where he was, where he stood, standing with a sky's hand in his. To be flung, defying gravity and ripping through the sky, while simultaneously being drowned by a warmth that he never wanted. The polarizing feelings echoed inside of him, tearing him in pieces like he was going through a woodchipper. It was agonizing. It was liberating. And then, as though there was only one thing that kept him human, in this plane of reality, Hanagaki's hand squeezed his.

"Hanma-kun?" he asked, a voice that made his ear drums throb.

His sky's hands were warm, clammy, half the size of his, and everything he hated about everything. Hanma slapped the hand away and shoved Hanagaki backwards, feeling as though his life was being threatened. 

Hanagaki groaned as he was thrown over his chair and went rolling while his chair clattered o the ground. 

And Hanma, who lived for the thrill, who laughed in the presence of death, felt pale and distraught.

No, he wanted to scream. Not him. He wouldn't harmonize. How could he ever harmonize so fast? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. He didn't want this. He didn't him. It was supposed to be a funny joke. He was going to ruin that thing that had Tokyo humming with life and brimming with joy. It was supposed to just stave off the boredom.

So, Hanma did what he always did.

Hanma kicked the fallen chair towards Hanagaki, letting it smack into him. Without any sense returning to him, he rushed out in a hurry. 

The first time he felt fear, the first time he truly felt the cold grasp of fear on his heart, was also the first time Hanma learned what a curse it was to have a sky defining home.

He stared at his flame, unrecognizable suddenly without that orange.

Chapter Text

It had been about one month. Well, actually, more like two weeks and three days, but Hanagaki didn't tell anyone he was keeping count. He didn't think most of them would even believe him anyway, with how abyssal his math scores were.

And it was Hanma. Who would count of the return of a cloud? They were clouds for a reason. If people could measure clouds, could time them and predict them with any sense of accuracy, surely then his weather app would never lie, and Hanagaki would be counting down instead.

If he returned (and Hanagaki knew that he would return like he knew there would be a comet crossing the sky. It would happen, and he didn't know when, or if he would be there to see it), then Hanagaki would know. He wasn't sure what he would know, but he would know it. At that time, he felt like he would know what to say. 

When he saw Hanma's face, Hanagaki thought as he buried his hands into his pocket, he would know. 

While thinking like that, he didn't even realize when someone came after him until the bat cracked against his forehead. 

--

Hanma stared back at him, while the group of teens that jumped Hanagaki laid around them, impassive and cold.

And, for whatever reason, Hanagaki felt safe. His shoulders slumped, even though he knew, logically, that he should be doing something, anything, to try to keep his distance from Hanma. His leg still ached whenever he thought about him and he had to throw that chair away. Funny, until the moment Hanma was physically in front of him, he had forgotten about that. He wasn't sure if that said more about him or Hanma. 

But Hanma was the one that closed the distance first. Pulling the face mask down on his face, he crouched down in front of Hanagaki.

He stared at him. Blood was dribbling out of his nose and mouth, but at that moment, he didn't even want to close his eyes. What if this was a mistake? What if he was actually delusional? He panted hard, and wondered if the guy who created that stupid saying, "you can't feel pain in dreams" had ever been punch-drunk before. 

"Where're your Guardians?" Hanma's unmistakable voice filled his ears, and it felt like water in a drought. 

Hanagaki wondered if dying would be easier. The adrenaline was fading, and all the aches and pains were compounding in. Nothing, however, seemed to ache more than the blistering feeling of hearing something he didn't know he was waiting for.

"I don't... have any," Hanagaki replied back, honest. Taiju hadn't got the message yet, but he supposed it was only time now.

Hanma stared at him and then rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nope," he said. He got up, and reached his hand out. "Your cloud is here."

And Hanagaki stared at his hand. He knew, of course he knew. There was nothing more he wanted than to grab Hanma's hand, yank him down and hold him close until morning light. To create a bond that time couldn't rot, that the wind could not erode, that would complete something inside of him. There was an ache inside of him that he knew only existed when he realized that he was alone.

And nothing was more lonesome than standing next to someone he couldn't grab.

Hanagaki shook his head. Hanma slapped him with his extended hand. Nothing harsh, but a snap of his wrists that made pain flare against his bruised cheeks. His blood smeared across Hanma's fingers. For a truly delusional second, Hanagaki felt like he finally made his mark on Hanma.

"You have nothing. No one. It's just me."

And there was something about his tone that made him still. 

"It's just me here," Hanma said, hands coming to grab his shoulders, "You get it, right? The person that came to your rescue weren't those shitty Manjis. Your Black Dragons. Your middle school groupies. The person that came for you was me." 

Hanagaki felt his eyes burn, but the pain that he felt inside of him, the ache that he felt inside of him, wasn't his. It was a feeling he only got from this man, who he had already opened his sky to.

"I'm here. Right now, in front of you. I'm here."

Hanma's hands trembled from the strength he held Hanagaki's shoulders. Or perhaps it was more that he couldn't bring himself to let go. Was he fighting himself as hard as Hanagaki had fought? He couldn't tell.

As far as he was concerned, he had never seen Hanma try anything at all. Everything seemed so casual and nonchalant with him. His flame didn't feel like that at all. His flame-

"Hey, what the hell did you do to me?" Hanma asked, like Hanagaki could feel anything other than a cloud that was left alone for so long he thought it was normal. "I feel like I'm fucking losing my mind. All I can think about was coming back here."

Hanagaki stared at him for a moment longer, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Wait," he said, because he didn't want it. He didn't want it, and he knew Hanma didn't want it. "We didn't harmonize. You can't feel like that."

"I can't? You're going to tell me what I can and can't feel?"

And Hanma's hands squeezed tighter. If it wasn't pressing on the bruises there, then it was making new ones. The pain, however, felt minimal compared to that vacancy he felt. If this wasn't harmonization, then what the fuck was it supposed to be?

He gave this laugh, like he was gargling glass and it would ensure that he would never feel joy again. The wild look in his eyes was something ugly, but Hanma wore trauma with sharp style. 

"You think that I want to be here? That I want to be here with you? Anyone, I could have anyone, I'm not bound to anything, and then you came."

"Then leave," Hanagaki said, frustrated and exhausted. He was finally managing to sit up now. "Why'd you come back?"

"I tried."

The blond scowled, lifting his arms to try and get Hanma off of him and failed since the other man was much stronger and less injured than him. He gave a huff, and wiped at the blood running out of his nose. It smeared across the bottom of his face, but he just wanted to lay down and sleep.

"Then leave again," Hanagaki croaked, because it wasn't like he could. "What's the problem? You come and go as you please. You always come and go as you please. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here. Do whatever it is you do, except hitting me, and just go."

And Hanma laughed, a barking kind of sound with his eyes wide and Hanagaki was pretty certain that Hanma was the only person that could look like he was stabbed and told a great punchline simultaneously. If someone could laugh when dying, it would be Hanma, and it would be in a blaze.

"That's the problem!" he shouted back, now angry, and actually, Hanagaki was beginning to think that Hanma was just going through all five stages of grief in the matter of seconds and making it Hanagaki's problem. He shook Hanagaki a little more, running his back into the wall a few more times, "That's the fucking problem!"

"What? What's the fucking problem?!"

"You don't want me."

There was a long silence that followed the words. Hanagaki's eyes flew to his face, the expression on Hanma's face that said that he had no idea either. That a cloud without a sky wasn't a cloud at all. 

"Takemichi," he said, the words spilling from his lips like a promise, like a plea, like he couldn't cry, so this was the next best thing he could do, "tell me to stay."

And if Hanagaki could, he could go back in time. Grab himself by the shoulders and tell him to run and hide. That it wasn't worth it. That his flame would be the end of him. That he should have never taken Mikey's offer to ride on the back of his bike. That he should have never picked a fight. That it was better to be alone because this-

Hanma's lips came over his, rough lips scraping against his before he teeth bit down around his mouth. Hanagaki grunted and Hanma pushed him down on his back. Crawling on top of him, Hanagaki felt the fight desert him at the sight of Hanma's face, at the touch of his heat, at the frantic way his voice called for him.

-this Guardian business would make him the happiest person in the world by destroying everyone around him.

And that scared him.

"I'm sorry," Hanagaki said, eyes watering.

"Don't," Hanma gritted out. "Don't fucking say that. Tell me to stay."

Hanagaki squeezed his eyes shut, felt his hot tears run down his face. "I'm sorry."

"You really don't know how to listen."

Like that, Hanagaki Takemichi's first guardian was his cloud.