A/N: Enjoy this while it lasts, people because I am NEVER. EVER. EVERRRRR. GOING TO WRITE FLUFF AGAIN. I HATEEE FLUFFFFFFF. D:
Written for Dior Crystal's late late Birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PAPA. YOU'RE GETTING 3,014 (THREE. FREAKING. THOUSAND) WORDS FROM ME. AREN'T YOU SPESHUL? :[
Theme : "These Pictures of Us"
Disclaimer: "Katekyo Hitman Reborn!"'s characters, plot, and all other affiliates of the manga and anime belong to Amino Akira, meaning it does not belong to me whatsoever. I own solely this piece of literature, and thus I would also appreciate it if fellow authors and writers do not steal any of my work. Thank you, and enjoy "P.S. I Love You".
P.S. I Love You
A YamamotoxGokudera Fic
Cars honked in the background, anxious to get to their destination before it was too late. The faint roaring of airplanes getting ready to set off is muted by the chattering and yells that constantly echoes in the airport. Despite the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon, the building was as crowded as ever.
He stood there amongst his companions, slightly towering his best friend. His cropped black hair flopped in front of his innocent amber eyes as he fidgeted, peering through the mass of people, trying to find the person they were all waiting for. Dressed in his usual casual clothes of jeans and a t-shirt, he kept shifting his weight between one sneaker-clad foot and the other.
Despite the fact that he was the person everyone came to see off, he was the one who entered the airport last. Clad in a sharp suit and black dress shoes, his silver hair swayed as he walked briskly to the check-in station. Not noticing his...acquaintances (he would never call any of them, except for his Tenth, friends), he passed the luggage station with a wave. Even though he'd be gone for God-knows-how-long, he refused to bring more than his daily essentials.
"Ah, Gokudera!"
He pauses in his stride, turning around disbelievingly. After all those repetitive messages telling them that they didn't need to send him off...That damn baseball-nut! He was the only one who knew when he was leaving, dammit! As he walked over to the crowd, his hand typed a quick note to himself on his Palm.
Reminder: Send the Baseball-Nut a bomb as soon as reached destination.
Of course, all murderous intentions were lost as soon as he noticed his precious Tenth there. Instantly turning into a sheepish blob, he exclaimed that there was no need to send him off...he'll be fine on his own...of course he won't be lonely! He was the Right-Hand Man, after all...and how did they know that he was leaving that day, instead of the day after as he had explicitly told them?
At this last question, there was a visible twitch coming from one member of the crowd: a certain guilty swordsman. Being the observant person he was, Gokudera easily picked up the small sign and put two and two together. His suspicions were correct....Yep, he was definitely going to mail that idiot a bomb as soon as he reached Italy.
After over-dramatic goodbyes, some barfing, and a bruise on Yamamoto's face (courtesy of Gokudera), he was finally alone yet again.
Well, not exactly.
"...So tell me, idiot, why exactly are you still here?"
He expected him to brush it off with a chuckle, say something stupid, and then leave. Instead though, he raised his eyebrow at a fidgety Yamamoto. Just what is that idiot planning now?
"Ahaha....neh, Gokudera, how long did you say you'll be gone for?"
"....A year or so. Maybe longer."
"...Oh. I see," he chuckled awkwardly, before pausing and murmuring something unintelligibly.
"Wha--"
His retort was cut off by strong lips pressed against his own. It was only for a second, but it was still a kiss. Flustered, he ends up falling on the ground. His face bright red, he covers his mouth with his sleeve and glares at his friend.
"Have a safe trip."
He didn't realize just how important those last words would become until it was too late.
September 9, 2009
Dear Gokudera:
Yo! It's been a week since you've arrived in Italy right? How is it? I mean, I know it's your home, but it must be hard to settle down there after all that time in Japan, right? You should go make some friends! :D
Tsuna's doing fine. He told me to tell you to stay safe! Haha, you really should try to be careful though! Oh, and while you're there, can you send me an autograph from....
On and on, that baseball idiot covered three whole pages with his messy scrawl. If that wasn't enough, he also included all those pictures. Really, he acted as if he was gone for a whole year or something...Even so, the pictures were well-taken. Photos from school, Juudaime's smile, and that idiot's face....
Unconsciously, his lips curved into a smile as he flipped through the miniature stack of pictures. Quickly realizing what happened, he smacked himself. Honestly, he acted as if he was actually happy to get these useless things! He didn't need those stupid photos to keep him company, nor did he need to get a report on all the happenings in Namimori every other week.
...Nevertheless, he'll frame some of those photos. After all, his office here in Italy was too empty anyway.
December 30, 2009
Dear Gokudera:
Ah, it's almost winter break here! We're planning to have a snowball fight again! Do you think you could come back soon, just for a break? It wouldn't be the same without you, haha. Oh, and did Ryohei send you a letter? He's finally going out with...
Jeez, he always has to write freakishly long letters, doesn't he? As always, he spends the majority of the morning sipping his coffee while reading the pointlessly long letter. Despite all his thoughts on how this was stupid, how he should just throw it away instead of reading it, this Sunday activity had easily become a norm.
And, as always, the idiot includes a bunch of pictures. He shakes his head again in exasperation. With the way that dimwit takes pictures, it was as if he lived in Antarctica or something. And even while he's mentally insulting his friend, he still subconsciously picks out one or two photos to hang up in his room. There was a certain wall that was blank, was all. It wasn't like he actually liked those pictures...
January 14, 2009
Dear Gokudera:
Ah, Tsuna said that he's going to be sending in some replacements for you soon, so just hang tight, alright! It must be really lonely over there, since you don't seem to have that many friends. Oh, and....
February 15, 2010
Dear Gokudera:
Gokudera! Happy Valentine's Day! :D Ahaha, I don't know if Tsuna told you, but even though you're gone, your locker is STUFFED with chocolates! I don't even know how the first years know who you are, since you've quit school since last year. We're all third-year students now, can you believe it? You better....
March 1, 2010
Dear Gokudera:
Guess what day it is? White's Day! You should send me a photo too, since I sent you all those cute pictures during Valentine's Day. I'll be waiting, hehe. Oh, and Hibari-san.....
April 4, 2010
Gokudera:
Can you believe it? School here's almost over! It seems like it was just yesterday when we were first years, and now we're graduating! Ahh, it's sort of sad, isn't it? o Well, I'll be sending you pictures from graduation soon, so be ready for it! :D
May 8, 2010
Dear Gokudera..
June 8th, 2011
Gokudera!.....
.
.
.
.
December 17, 2012
Dear Gokudera.
I don't know how to say this properly....but I'm going to go out with Tsuna. I love him. And he loves me too. I know it might sound bad, but I'd still like to be friends! I know that we were...but...it's been 3 years already...
I'm sorry.
His coffee had spilled onto the documents that he was working on, ruining his work completely, but he didn't care. The puddle had long since dried, turning everything on his desk into a sticky mess. He sits there, staring at nothing for what seems like forever. The single sheet of paper is crumpled in his trembling hand. Slowly, he raises his other hand and brushes the grey strands away from his face.
Was it a crime now, to be so obsessed with the work that you forget about everything else that exists in the world? How long has it been since he even so much as replied to the letters that the other tirelessly wrote every week?
His phone rings, but he doesn't bother picking it up. Even though he knows it's fault, and even though he knows that he shouldn't blame his beloved boss at all, he just can't —won't— pick up the call.
It's true when they say you never know what you've got till it's too late.
Four months later, he's still sitting at that same desk. Bags line his eyes, and wrinkles that weren't there before have appeared on his face. Everyday, he works tirelessly, refusing to think of the future that could have been— that should have been. His hands are never clean from the ink that spills over when he's not careful with his pen. His eyes are lined pink with fatigue, but he refuses to stop.
Just like a robot, he'll work till the minute he breaks.
Ring...ring...
Noting that the phone call came from the main headquarters and assuming that there was another job for him, he picks up the phone listlessly.
"Hello, Hurricane Bomber speaking," he speaks monotonously, using the codename that his boss insisted on for safety measures.
"Gokudera! Thank goodness!"
He froze, nearly dropping his phone. Romance issues be damned, it's still been three years since he heard his boss's voice. He could never spite the Tenth.
"A-ah, Tenth! What's the emergency? I'll definitely take care of anything bothering the Tenth!"
"I-it's not that. It's Yamamoto..."
He pauses then, contemplating whether or not he should hang up the phone. For four months, he's been able to keep himself from breaking down by completely erasing that name from his mind. Even so, this was his precious Tenth speaking. The least he could do— the least he should do is listen to what he has to say.
"What happened, Tenth? If he made you cry, I'll kill him--"
"N-no, it's not anything like that! It's...Yamamoto, he...he's dead."
And suddenly, all the pain he's been feeling has suddenly washed away, replaced by something much, much worse. The room blurs, and he feels nauseous. What was left from his last meal, which isn't much, threatens to come back out.
"W-wha? T-tenth, what do you mean...? H-he...what happened?"
"...It was raining. The driver was drunk. And you know how Yamamoto doesn't pay attention to his surroundings that much...I-I know it's not saying a lot...b-but, I'm sorry."
He drops the phone, not waiting to hear it click shut. Before he knows it, he's packing his belongings again, throwing whatever he sees inside his small suitcase. Just before zipping his bag shut, he pauses and takes time to think.
What was he doing?
Why was he waiting till now, only now, to come back home? This was the same as crying over spilled milk. No matter what he did, no matter how fast he got back...he was gone. For the second time, he's lost what should have been his.
And he wastes only another second in doubt before looking up at the only photo hung above his bed.
It was from one of the first letters Yamamoto sent him, a developed version of a picture taken when he still lived in Namimori. Standing to the right of him, Yamamoto's smiling face covers a good half of the picture. Being his typical friendly self, his arm was draped over Gokudera's shoulder. Ignoring the fact that his face was scrunched up in his usual scowl, he stares at the photo. It was a photo taken a long time ago, but the idiot never had a chance to develop it until after he left...
He gently takes the photo out of the frame, and places it in his wallet. Closing the door the his room for the past three years, he runs out to the airport, and doesn't look back.
To whom it may concern:
After spending three years here in Italy performing recon missions and filling out paperwork, my time here is up. Put one of the veterans in my place or something, I don't give a damn. I'm going home.
-Hurricane Bomber.
As he nears the exit of the airport, he stops in his tracks disbelievingly. His eye started twitching, and he could feel a huge headache coming on. Ignoring the odd sense of deja vu that was so obviously occurring at that moment, he takes a deep breathe in to settle his chaotic feelings.
"Just WHAT is GOING ON HERE, YAMAMOTO?!"
Oh yes. Instead of seeing nothing but a grey door at the entrance, he is instead flooded with the strange image of all his friends taking up space. And in the middle of that crowd, standing next to his boss?
Takeshi. Fucking. Yamamoto.
"Ahaha, Gokudera! It's about time you came back! Ah, but you made me lose my bet with Tsuna..."
His eye couldn't stop twitching, it seemed. Restrain yourself...wait for an explanation before ripping his throat out.
"A-ah, please don't kill Yamamoto! You see, you weren't going to come back anytime soon, and we were all worried about you. I told you that you could come back two years ago, but you refused, so we had no choice, you see!"
He tuned out the rest of his boss's rambling about how they planned to make him come back four months ago. After the long explanation, he couldn't do anything but stare dumbly at the crowd before him.
"....Let me get this straight. You...both of you...decided to pretend to be a couple? And then, if that wasn't enough, you pretended that Yamamoto was dead? Just to get me to come back?"
"..A-ah..t-that's right." Even Yamamoto, being the most clueless of them all, knew to step back a couple of feet. Gokudera's aura was awfully scary....
Gokudera grabbed his shirt, pulling him up. Yamamoto winced, getting ready for a punch in the face. He could hear the girls gasp, and braced himself...
...for a pair of lips to come crashing down on his own.
He opened his eyes wide in shock. Dimly, he noticed that Tsuna was covering his eyes in embarrassment, blushing furiously.
Slowly, their lips broke apart from the passionate kiss. Licking his lips, Gokudera smirked at the blushing and shell-shocked baseball-nut.
"I nearly lost you twice. There's no way I'm letting go of you now. Besides...that was payback for last time."
It seems like their lives were just going to get more interesting from now on, didn't it?
-3 years later-
As the young, ten-year-younger Gokudera explored the apartment room his older self seemed to reside in, his hand brushed against a dust-covered picture frame.
Wiping the glass with his sleeve, it takes him a few minutes before he realizes what it was.
"E-eh, wasn't this the picture that baseball-nut took the day before we got pulled in this world?!"
I. ABSOLUTELY. HATE. WRITING. HAPPY. ENDINGS. T____T HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE.
If this wasn't for my Papa Dior, I'd shoot myself before I would even write anything CLOSE to being this fluffy. GGRRRROSSSSSS!!!!!
...The theme song? "Pictures of You" by The Last Goodnight. It was recommended by my Mama Boo, and it was perfect for this fic~ -heart heart-
REVIEW. OR YAMAMOTO'S GOING TO REALLY DIE THIS TIME.