Nine Years, Eleven Months, Twenty-seven Days

On the anniversary of something that doesn’t happen, Tsuna’s Guardians gather around him. Fluffy Drama, I-3

Yamamoto was the first one who came, tapping brisk but quiet on the door and slipping inside, shadows falling across his face. He said nothing, only came to Tsuna and wrapped around him, a shield of muscle and bone and breath. Tsuna rested his forehead against Yamamoto’s chest with a low sigh. He didn’t know whether he wanted them here or not, but he knew he couldn’t send them away. Not tonight.

Gokudera came next, head lowered, every movement pulled tight. He didn’t look at either of them, only sank down to sit at Tsuna’s feet, one arm locked around a raised knee. A slender, red stick turned unceasingly through his fingers.

Hibari ignored them when he stalked through the door and came to stand beside the window, eyes gleaming and sharp on the night beyond.

The city lights gleamed on Lambo’s horns as he settled on the balcony outside.

Ryouhei planted himself at the door, arms crossed, with a fierce expression but sad eyes. He nodded to Chrome as she entered and stood silently in the corner across from Hibari, staff upright between her hands.

They waited and watched.

Pre-dawn was drowning the streetlights when Tsuna stirred. "It’s all right, now," he told them softly.

There was a husky sound from Gokudera and Yamamoto’s arms tightened for one quick moment.

They left as quietly as they’d come, and Tsuna only hoped they’d sleep now. One by one, with a nod or a swift touch, they unwound themselves from around him until only Hibari was left still watching as Tsuna finally made his way to bed. The line of his back, poised and uncompromising, followed Tsuna down into dreams.