AN: Hello! i know, i know, i shouldn't be here and posting another story when the other wasn't being updated for months but, i kinda found this in my laptop when I'm going to delete some of doc that i didn't need. So i decided to post this for valentine, but for some reason or another, my internet somehow banned this web. Thus resulting me posting this two days after Valentine day. oh, this is based from a song and a doujin i came across then i do a little change here and there before posting it.

Enjoy!

Warning! Contains BL/Yaoi, don't like don't read!

disclaimer: Author don't own KHR, or the song

These love poems I've written for you.

I've been sending them for fifteen years.

And still no reply.

Still no reply.

A teenage boy, with unruly black hair and sparkling hazel eyes can be seen walking to his mailbox and putting in a letter. He grinned while looking at the blue sky.

"Takeshi!" A brunette boy called out.

He turned around and grinned at the brunette. "Yo! Tsuna, I'll be there in a moment."

He looked at the mailbox for the last time before running towards Tsuna.

In the first years I was reckless.

I wrote everyday without fails.

I licked stamps relentlessly.

Delivering my heart to you.

Takeshi winced when he got another paper cut. He took the tissue that he had already prepared beside him and applied it to his wound so that the blood won't stain the paper he was writing on.

I was reckless the second year as well.

Even the house catching on fire couldn't get my attention.

My clothes caught fire from the bottom up.

I didn't notice until only my collar was left.

"You could have died back there!" The brunette almost yelled at him, and belatedly he noticed that Tsuna's voice was trembling. "I don't want to lose anyone else..." He said, almost sobbing.

Takeshi looked oddly sad for a moment. "Haha... I'm sorry Tsuna, won't do it again!"

"You'd better not!" Takeshi only grinned with his ash covered face.

Behind them a blazing fire could be seen. Angry, red, and unstoppable. Takeshi couldn't help but feel mesmerized by it, and a struck of nostalgia came to his mind.

In the third year, I calmed down.

I reached the limits of literature.

I made my own blog.

And maxed out the hit counter.

Another 'beep'ing sound could be heard from across the silent room, Takeshi looked at his laptop and grinned when he saw yet another mail and review from his followers.

The fourth year, I wrote for a magazine.

I addressed social issues.

I decided to release a poetry collection.

And turn my back on being a sushi chef.

"You're quitting the restaurant then?" One of the customer asked.

Takeshi grinned. "Yeah."

Some of the customers looked disappointed. "Haha... Don't worry about that, I'm still the better chef you know!" His father said while grinning happily.

The customer laughed.

These love poems I've written for you.

I've been sending them for fifteen years.

And still no reply.

Still no reply.

Takeshi waited in front of his mailbox again, he looked up when the sky changed from blue to an orange hue, then turned again to a dark blue. All the while he was still standing there, waiting.

By the fifth year, I was a professional poet.

I captivated women aged 20 - 34.

But since I was so dedicated.

They might as well have been radishes to me.

"Oh my, look at that!" A woman said to her companion.

"Oh! Isn't that Takeshi-sama?"

"Yes! You're right."

"He's getting more and more handsome as the years pass by..." Another woman said with dreamy expression.

Through all of the whispering, Takeshi kept on walking, ignoring them all in favor for buying new stacks of paper.

The sixth year, my body broke down.

I'd written more than 2000 poems.

I'd broken every bone in my body.

And every organ was damaged.

It's burning. That was all that Takeshi could remember, it was hot and his head was spinning. He felt like puking but he couldn't even lift a finger. He felt someone putting something cold and damp on his forehead and almost sighed out in relief. The cold was most welcomed for his burning head.

"His fever are high..." A whispering voice that sounded like Tsuna said.

"He's an idiot, that for sure." Another deep baritone voice replied.

"Reborn! Don't say that!"

"He worked too hard to the extreme!" A loud voice said from another side.

"Hiiiie! O-onii-san! Not so loud!" Tsuna shouted out in whispers.

Takeshi felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier, until he could no longer fight it off then he fell asleep.

In the seventh year, I was in perfect shape.

Today I'll compare you to something.

Maybe you're like extreme ironing.

Maybe you're like a compound inner product space.

Takeshi turned on the TV and watched the movie that was going on with blank stare, his eyes looked distant and his face didn't look all that cheerful like how he used to.

In front of him right on the coffee table, papers scattered everywhere. Now twenty four, he was still writing. The sound from the TV seemed to be far away, but he was still looking at it with those distant eyes.

I didn't change in the eight year.

Today I'll compare you to something.

Maybe you're like undefeated in 16 sumo matches.

Maybe you're like an ampa glutamate receptor.

Takeshi laughed, his friends was still as amusing as ever. What to do to make them even more flabbergasted than they already were? He took a glance at a man who wore a black fedora with yellow stripes and an expensive black suit, Reborn. Both smirked at the same time.

These love poems I've written for you.

I've been sending them for fifteen years.

Ands still no reply.

Still no reply.

Takeshi hummed a random tune. He's just done buying things at the nearest supermarket. He looked at the road before starting to cross it, suddenly there was a blinding light.

He turned his head and saw a car advancing towards him with incredible speed. His eyes widened, and then all he could feel was pain.

The ninth year, I was in an accident.

Apparently I hit my head badly.

I forgot my own name.

All I remember was that.

I love you.

Takeshi looked at the IV drip with blank eyes. Even when a brunette boy who claimed to be his friend came to visit him, he didn't respond. The man only looked at them blankly as if he didn't recognize them.

His head was bandaged, his arm was on a cast, and so was his leg. Somehow, his injured arm reminded him of something important.

My memory didn't come back the tenth or eleventh year.

But I still loved you.

And all I wanted was.

A reply from you.

Takeshi finally responded to the world around him. The first words he said were: "Give me a paper". Tsuna and his friends were more than happy to do so.

When he was released from the hospital, the first thing he did was check on his mailbox, and was not surprised when he didn't see the thing he was expecting.

My memory didn't come back the twelfth or thirteenth year.

But I still loved you.

That was all I had.

Takeshi curled up on his bed. Around him, papers were scattered, ink stained his bed cover and he looked at them with empty, but hopeful gaze. Blank yet full of love.

He took another blank paper, then he saw a flash,a glimpse of something. He saw that silver hair, how it would sway along with the breeze, how those emerald eyes would sparkle in interest or in anger at what he did and smiled.

Even by the fourteenth year.

It still had not come back.

I was anxious and frightened everyday.

I wanted a single glimpse of you.

I wanted a single word from you.

Takeshi sat in the garden watching the red roses in a trance-like state. But in reality, it's not the roses that fascinated him, but the color. It reminded him of something, so he took his writing utensil and a piece of paper.

Then he started to write with only one thought in his mind, and he can't help but feel happy that another letter was finished.

In the fifteenth year.

My memories returned.

I remembered everything.

And started to cry.

Takeshi screamed, tears streaming down his face. One of his hand was clutching a piece of paper tightly while the other hand covered a part of his face. His eyes wide in sadness and grief, he shouted out his name.

I remembered.

He cried and cried until a warm hand touched his shoulder he looked up and saw Tsuna with Reborn and the others. Tsuna gave him a sorrowful look, and he gives Takeshi a tight yet gentle grip on his shoulder.

"Takeshi... We're here..."

Takeshi sobbed, and slowly all his friends came closer to either pat him or just stand beside him giving him comfort.

That fifteen years ago, you died.

Hayato was sulking again, talking about things he didn't understand. Takeshi patted his shoulder and Hayato turned around, just in time for him to dive in and kiss him on the cheek. Hayato was startled for a few moment, before his face turned red.

Takeshi laughed at the expected reaction, but soon was startled when Hayato yanked his tie and kissed him on the lip. Hayato gave him a smug smirk even though his face was still bright red.

They came out from the nearest supermarket while holding hands. He told a joke and Hayato snickered. It was night time, and they were about to cross the road, but seeing that there's no car around, Takeshi crossed the road while skipping happily.

He remembered Hayato yelling at him for being an idiot who wasn't careful. He didn't see it, but Hayato did, he rushed in and pushed him aside, and then there was a loud 'bam' and 'crack'.

And he could only saw it happened with horror filled eyes, red was all over the road, and Takeshi shouted for help while holding the unmoving and cold Hayato tightly in his arm.

These love poems I've written for you.

If I kept piling them up,

Would they ever reach you?

I stacked them everyday.

In the room that used to be yours.

Takeshi walked into a familiar room, with a familiar bed and familiar desk, both were filled with piles of papers on top of them. He felt tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he stared at the stacks of paper.

I couldn't see you anymore.

And I kept loving you but.

I thought someday.

We'd meet again.

And you're not here anymore.

He fell to his knees and looked at the ground beneath him. His tears dripping down to the floor. He closed his eyes and started to cry. Crying for his lost once again.

These love poems I've written for you.

I've been sending them for sixteen years.

And still no reply.

Takeshi looked at a piece of tear-stained paper on the floor. There, it was written in bold.

'I want to meet you again,

Aishiteru.'

Still no reply.

Thank you for reading! Review will be most appreciated and loved!