The night had settled like a warm blanket over the Vongola estate. The chaos of the day was gone, replaced by the hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The garden was dim, bathed in moonlight, quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat.

Tsuna stood beside you, his fingers fidgeting at the hem of his sleeve, stealing glances your way like it physically pained him to look too long.

You were both supposed to be heading back inside.

Supposed to.

Instead, he took a shaky breath, then—gently, awkwardly—held out his hand toward you.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “May I have this dance?”

There was no music. Just the night. The soft rustle of leaves. The chirp of crickets. But you smiled, because it was him, and you nodded.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Your fingers laced together, warm and a little clammy. His other hand hovered near your waist like it was afraid of offending you just by existing, before finally settling there—tentative, respectful, pink-faced.

And then you danced.

If it could be called that.

It was slow, offbeat, and absolutely clumsy. Tsuna stepped on your foot once, muttered a thousand apologies, nearly tripped over his own in return. He was stiff and red and clearly overthinking every second of it.

And it was perfect.

You laughed quietly, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he froze—only for a moment—before melting into it.

“This is… kind of embarrassing,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled. “Yeah. But I don’t mind.”

Tsuna’s arms tightened just slightly around you.

Neither of you said anything after that. The world could’ve kept turning, the stars could’ve fallen, and Tsuna wouldn’t have noticed. All he knew was the way your hand felt in his, the softness of your breath near his ear, and the quiet, unshakable thought:

I never want this moment to end.