You Were So Easy To Love ☆ KHR

Character/Pairing: Colonello, Lal Mirch, 5666
Story Summary: I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Date Written: 21/03/2011

It was… the third week of May.

Shuffling through the mail in her hands, Lal Mirch tossed her car keys into the designated bowl. Upon seeing what she carried was nothing more then the fliers she had threatened multiple times to never receive again, she deposited the paper in the nearest trash bin. Her work shoes having been kicked off at the door were now replaced with a comfortable pair of slippers, feet padding across the familiar tile floor.

The house was plain. It was how she’d always preferred it. The windows were covered by dark blinds; forever pulled shut and have likely collected dust since she had first moved in. A picture or two littered the walls; memories she rarely glanced at anymore but were there for the sole purpose of satisfying her more frequent visitors.

Your place doesn’t reflect anything personal,” they’d complained. The pictures, positioning and even the action of hanging them up had been entirely theirs. Lal saw no reason to move them; she saw no reason why they should be that big of an issue. So she left them to become just another portion of the wallpaper.

Running a finger across dry lips, the woman couldn’t help a glance to the clock stationed perfectly over her lone kitchen chair.


The curtains that were pulled lamely around the window to its left had a glow about their edges. The familiar light of dawn was starting to trace the curves of the cloth. It was something she had grown used to watching.

It was also the only window in the house that wasn’t protected by a layer of monochrome plastic.

The curtains were cut purposefully short; a rather lame excuse that she was constantly reminded of whenever it came time for her to look out past the pane of glass.

Under the soft glow of morning, the world outside appeared quiet and restful. A hush was all that first entered her home when her fingers finally itched too much. With the window opened wide, she set her forearms against the window pane and took in a slow, deep breath.

Only to find exactly what she’d been hoping for.

The third week of May.

In May, he painted.

Poking her head out a bit more, following the sour scent of paint fumes, her mild curiosity twisted her neck about until–

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you a nosy neighbor, kora.”

Wrinkling her nose just a bit, annoyed at being caught before she could get in the first word, she finally caught a pair of bright blue eyes peering over at her through a gap in the fence. Lal often wondered about that gap. August, the month he always did his fence repairs, had come and gone several times already and yet that gap still remained. Big enough to fit a hand through but never enough to attempt anything more.

But the years had taken its toll of looking through the fence so perhaps it was just wishful thinking…

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. I have far more interesting neighbors then you.” She replied, her voice even as always.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bad liar?” The man chuckled, a soft slap of paint being splashed across the wood.

That brought forth a small smile. “You. On several occasions. You certainly seem to think you know me well enough. Maybe I’mnot the nosy neighbor.”

A hand appeared on top of the fence, the fingers long and definitely masculine before a heave occurred and soon even his shoulders were visible. The work t-shirt she’d seen him in a dozen times before had collected all matters of tears, frays and stains. Yet she couldn’t imagine seeing him in anything else in these early hours.

With his paintbrush still in hand, the blond folded his arms over the top of the fence and gave her a smile that she would never admit rivaled those early morning glows on her kitchen curtains.

“‘Morning, Lal.”

“Colonello.” She acknowledged with a soft nod. “So, painting again? What colour are you going with this year?”

Glancing down at his paintbrush and then back up, he looked thoughtful. “Well, I am just priming it first but I’m thinking…. maybe brown this year.”

“How… plain.” Lal replied, perfectly masking her surprise.

His face fell a bit. “What? Not good enough, kora?”

“I never said that.” She brushed her fingers lightly over her wrist. “I said it was plain.”

“Two years ago, you called my garden arrangement plain and spent the remainder of the year criticizing how my carrots would have grown better had I not planted them next to my corn. You’re a terrible liar, Lal Mirch.”

She still wasn’t sure if she hated it when he used her full name.

“That’s because you asked for my opinion; not my expertise.” She spoke, a ghost of a smirk playing across her lips.

Colonello caught it. He always caught them. “Alright, smart-ass neighbor of mine: what’s wrong with brown, kora? Am I going to scare off the birds or something?”

“Maybe not the birds…”

It was his turn to smirk and there was never any point on hiding it. He’d been expressive from the time he’d waved to her when she first came home early from work.

“That’s a pity. Here I was hoping brown might suit your tastes better.”

There it was: that little prickle that started at the base of her neck and then quickly shot into her stomach. It’d have been painful if she wasn’t so distracted with making a reply. “Now why would you think brown of all colours would suit my tastes?”

“Because I’ve been running out of colours to impress you with, kora.” He motioned his paintbrush along the fence, his eyes not leaving her face. There was a moment where she thought he would say something else… until she realized he hadn’t really given her any reason to think that.

She followed the paintbrush with her eyes. “I’m afraid something as dull as brown isn’t going to get you what you want.”

A quiet look passed through his eyes but he looked oddly content. “Does that mean I have no chance of seeing you on my side of the fence this year?”

“How long does priming usually take?” She knew; from the years of watching him in his home improvements, she knew all too well.

However, Colonello looked a bit caught off guard by the question, looking around his yard a moment before his lips moved in silent calculation. “Maybe…. three days? If the weather permits, kora.”

The sun finally rose that extra inch to peak over the roof of his house, the sun now beaming down on her window. A smile broke out on her lips, the look as rare of a treat as a third week of the month routine.

“Then I suppose you still have three days to find a colour that impresses me.” Reaching up, fingers began to feel for the edges of the glass. “I suppose this year I can give you a hint.”

Unfolding his arms, Colonello stretched out his arms slightly with a grin. “I’m wide open to suggestion.”

Straining against the sun reflected into her eyes, she made a point to peer into his eager eyes. There was a pause, a deep breath of sunlight before, “I like blue.”

Down came the window, cutting off the hush that was the morning air. The light once warming her skin was set to warm the edges of her curtains. In that last moment before she pulled herself away from the window void of all protective covering, Lal watched Colonello burn far more luminous then that sun could ever hope to accomplish.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

To Start ☆ KHR

Character/Pairing: Skull-centric
Date Written: 10/04/2011

Tears welled up in those big, purple eyes, sobs wracking his small from. Feet dangling from the dock he sat upon, Skull rubbed at his soaked cheeks, lips still quivering softly. If any indication of his distress was uttered, it was chocked back with a shaky gasp.

In the midst of his suffering, a sudden weight on his right foot caused a hitch in his breath. Quick movement pushed himself forward, wet eyes glancing down curiously.

Wrapped tightly around his heel was quite possibly the smallest octopus Skull had ever seen. Mainly red in colour, its tiny tentacles clung near desperately to whatever patch it could possibly find. From the weak pressure he could feel nudging at the sole of his shoe, he could only guess the baby creature was attempting a bite out of his running shoe.

For the split moment Skull saw the critter attached to him, he panicked. That instinctual reaction quickly passed, however, as his stare melted into curiosity and childlike-wonder. Little eyes Skull hadn’t noticed before seemed to gaze up at him with equal interest.

A calm passed with the routine sounds of the harbor.

The sobs that had been disturbing them earlier ceased.

Skull hadn’t even noticed his lack of tears.

Whatever pain had been there previously vanished with the passing breeze.

The longer he continued to watch, the more appeal the octopus gained. It was only after he broke eye contact with the creature that he started to notice the tentacles slipped from the rubber soles. He thought nothing of it at first… until one finally came loose and its movements immediately sped up.

His heart jumped.

Acting on impulse, Skull snapped his small foot up and caught it with both hands as its final tentacles gave way.

Palms up, the tiny creature flailed short limbs as it searched for something to grasp onto.

Looking around in uncertainty a moment, Skull finally reached forward and set him neatly on the top curve of his shoe. Then he lowered it cautiously.

The octopus twitched, slid and then… calmed. Little arms curled more securely around them material, becoming entangled in the shoelace. It scooted a bit closer to his ankle before finally settling with what Skull was convinced had been a noise of contentment.

Octopi made sounds, didn’t they?

The longer he stared at it, the more appeal the octopus gained and a span of a couple minutes, Skull was certain the purring creature on his running shoe was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

One Sentence Challenge ☆ KHR

What is the One Sentence Challenge? It is exactly as it sounds – it is a challenge to write a one sentence story based off a single prompt. I tend to do these when I want to challenge myself into things like crack pairings, new fandoms or simply to inspire me to write more.

This page will contain all the OSCs that I have done (now and in the future) for Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Newest will be at the top of the page.

Last Updated: October 7, 2013

Some of these sentences may be NSFW

Shadow [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Don’t worry so much, Shou-chan.” Byakuran grinned, the shadows of his fingers spreading warmth across his jaw. “I’ll keep you here till your bone dust matches mine.”

Hunger [Byakuran/Shouichi]

The sharp press of Byakuran’s teeth to his jaw promised to consume him alive and the further they bit into his skin, the less Shouichi seemed to care about the pulse of his own heartbeat.

King [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Would it really be that scary?” Shouichi questioned, the tilt of his head the only indication that he was really listening. “Dying without a crown to show for it?”

Wrong [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“You’re wrong, Shou-chan.” Byakuran’s smile was wide but there was a cynical smirk hidden behind his teeth. “I was never the one who lost sight of what he wanted.”

Blur [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Make no mistake, Byakuran.” Shouichi coughed, a thick trail of blood slipping out between his lips as the piercing clatter of a tire iron cracked against the concrete. “We’re going to the same place, you and I…. and there will be no peace there.”

Safe [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Even with the barrel shoved past his teeth and the hammer drawn back, Byakuran came to realize that he had never felt more at peace than knowing that it was Shou-chan’s finger contemplating the trigger.

Comfort [Byakuran/Shouichi]

There was something about the way that his fingers would pet his spine that forever caused the uneasy pain in Shouichi’s stomach to be smoothed.

Kiss [Byakuran/Shouichi]

When he beckons, his eyes swimming in their own self gratification, it is all Shouichi can do to lean in and silence that quiet mockery.

Soft [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Byakuran had forever loved the way that innocence looked on him.

Pain [Byakuran/Shouichi]

A subtle seduction could be found in the fashion that Byakuran would constantly pull on his red locks when he refused to busy himself with a kiss rather then his work.

Potatoes [Byakuran/Shouichi]

He’d never forget the expression Shouichi pulled when he’d finally convinced him to munch on one of his marshmallows; conveniently leaving out the prank of the raw potato in the center.

Rain [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Byakuran had hated the rain until the day that Shouichi had walked in, his presence drenched, ruffled and breathless, hair plastered down against his glasses.

Chocolate [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Chocolate is boring,” had been the reply Byakuran had given when Shouichi had finally gathered up the courage to ask why he didn’t prefer chocolate over marshmallows; “and I hate boring.”

Happiness [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Shouichi knew that the extent of which he kept Byakuran with his smile was small but it worked for him and that was all he really could have asked for.

Telephone [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It was pretty much by the eleventh call that Shouichi was really starting to hate whatever idiot invented the video phone.

Ears [Byakuran/Shouichi]

His pulse and attachment leaped to near breaking point the first time that Byakuran had chuckled so close to his ear.

Name [Byakuran/Shouichi]

There was a distinct embarrassment whenever Byakuran would feather a kiss to his stomach, hoping to hear that familiar, testing name and Shouichi would finally stutter it out … syllable … by pathetic … syllable.

Sensual [Byakuran/Shouichi]

He`d never fully admit it but the moment that Byakuran had pinned him up against that wall and had claimed Shouichi`s everything as his own, well, he`d given it all up without so much as a look of protest.

Death [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Even after everything he’d done, after all the lives he’d taken, after all the corruption that had long since become the blood that pulsed through his veins, he was still the only person who’d ever given Shouichi that second glance.

Sex [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It was a constant power play between them when the air got hot and hushed; not the assumed battle of dominance but instead between how much Byakuran could live up to his words and by how long Shouichi could instigate those words into action.

Touch [Byakuran/Shouichi]

There had been something about his naivety that had made Byakuran want to reach inside his very soul to find the puzzle pieces he was looking for.

Weakness [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Shouichi had never known the man to have a moment of weakness or even so much as a chink in his armor which was probably why when news had finally reached him of his defeat, he’d almost forgotten who’s side he was now on.

Tears [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Neither of them had ever shed a damn tear over the betrayal; not out of stubbornness or hatred but because their relationship had never been so simple as to deserve such a plain reaction.

Speed [Byakuran/Shouichi]

The concept of speed had no place in the developing link between their small fractions of time.

Wind [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Sharing a kiss with him was like being kissed by the wind: one touch from him and he felt like his lungs were being filled with life all over again.

Freedom [Byakuran/Shouichi]

As years passed on after returning to the present day, Shouichi grew to realize just how much he’d started to dislike freedom and how, just the slightest bit, he longed for the days when his wings had been kept clipped but loyal.

Life [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Yes, it was true that Shouichi would have never given his entire conscious to the man but his life … well, he’d have only ever needed to ask.

Jealousy [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Shouichi had always assumed Byakuran to be the jealous man until he had ignored Shouichi one day, mid-sentence, in order to stare down a suspicious person.

Hands [Byakuran/Shouichi]

He was pretty sure that if he had to narrow down his favorite physical part of Shouichi, it would have been those forever working hands.

Taste [Byakuran/Shouichi]

There had been nothing quite like the bitter sweet taste that had lingered on his tongue when he realized Shouichi wasn’t really just being rebellious.

Devotion [Byakuran/Shouichi]

From day one, Byakuran had always known Shouichi would eventually scamper off but he’d never fully understand how it was that he’d made devotion look so easy.

Forever [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Forever is a really long time,” had been Shouichi’s reply to Byakuran’s confession, “and I don’t plan on living that long.”

Blood [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Splashes of colour would have never suited the white aura that surrounded him which made Shouichi thankful that the man never stepped out to do his own dirty work.

Sickness [Byakuran/Shouichi]

He shouldn’t have been so anxious about it, he’d made the just decision … right?

Melody [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Music was a big part of what helped Shouichi relax but lately it seemed as if every song revolved around them.

Star [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Nothing ever shone as bright as when Shouichi would duck his head to cover up the flush Byakuran had just sketched there.

Home [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Byakuran had long since thrown away the idea of belonging to a certain time, place or location but the first time he’d caught Shouichi passed out upon one of his couches, he couldn’t help second guessing the idea of calling this place home.

Confusion [Byakuran/Shouichi]

When Shouichi of the past had been slammed with the events of his unknown future, his knees had hit the cold sidewalk beneath him and even to this day, he couldn’t have possibly explained why the sudden rush of grief had cause him to sob those gulps of air and regret.

Fear [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It had taken a great deal of courage to choose the path of justice that Byakuran always knew he had and that Shouichi thought he’d always lacked.

Lightning/Thunder [Byakuran/Shouichi]

How inconvenient it was that the one time he was able to coax those words from Shouichi’s lips, Mother Nature had interfered with her own source of silence; he should have seen that as a sign.

Bonds [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It had been somewhere between the third or forth stolen glance that the chain links that tied their souls together became sealed with a simple ‘Hello‘.

Market [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“Shouichi, you have to throw these out,” his mother had said while holding up a small bag of familiar puffs from his bag; puffs that he never touched, never ate and could never seem to go anywhere without.

Technology [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It had been four months since his fingers had so much as itched to press a key upon his dusty computer and every time he happened to glance over at it and catch his reflection in the monitor, he couldn’t help thinking he never would.

Gift [Byakuran/Shouichi]

“I wouldn’t give this to just anyone,” Byakuran spoke, placing a kiss to the finger that now fashioned the Mare ring; a quiet sadness soothing over his eyes when Shouichi whispered his promise to not let him down.

Smile [Byakuran/Shouichi]

At times, Shouichi wondered if anybody else could perceive that Byakuran was never really as pleased as his smiling appearance always tried to play up.

Innocence [Byakuran/Shouichi]

It had been the casual comment of ‘You’re going to break my heart one day‘ that had Shouichi now constantly searching Byakuran’s vacant eyes for some sliver of sanity.

Completion [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Despite every loving gesture, no matter how grand or small, neither of them could fully grasp the idea that – together – they had always been completely whole.

Clouds [Byakuran/Shouichi]

I shouldn`t be wasting my time with this…‘ Shouichi thought quietly just as Byakuran pointed out yet another rabbit shaped cumulus.

Sky [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Shouichi was glad that he worked so far underground: he was afraid that if he let himself out, he`d wind up letting the sky swallow him whole.

Heaven [Byakuran/Shouichi]

There were days that went by where Shouichi couldn`t help but wonder if Byakuran would believe him if he ever told him that the idea of heaven was scarier then he could ever be.

Hell [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Hell was the day that Shouichi had said yes and Byakuran let him live to regret it.

Sun [Byakuran/Shouichi]

The winged jewelry looked so foreign to his constantly working fingers that it never ceased to make him feel nervous about all the things it could possibly symbolize.

Moon [Byakuran/Shouichi]

If Byakuran was the sky then Shouichi was easily the moon; that bit of under appreciated astronomical wonder the sky would look bare and menacing without.

Waves [Byakuran/Shouichi]

During their final meal together, there had been something sad and lonely about the way Byakuran had outright laughed at Shouichi’s confession of wanting to one day be able to go out and see the ocean.

Hair [Byakuran/Shouichi]

Shouichi had never really cared much for his appearance until the day he had trusted Byakuran with a pair of barber scissors.

Supernova [Byakuran/Shouichi]

The problem with allowing yourself to become encircled in Byakuran`s empty promises was that he was much like a supernova: once his time was finally up, you had no possible means of escape.