Ten years later, the night is so much darker.
Ten years later, the night is so much colder.
Why?
Because you're not here…
Because you're not meant to be here…
It had been ten minutes after Tsuna's worried sniffing had abated, replaced by a soft snore and troubled sleep. Gokudera remained awake, listening to the unsteady silence that pervaded the hidden base and straining his ears for any clues that Yamamoto, Reborn or Lal Mirch might divulge in their nightly conversation. When this seemed fruitless, he worried about Tsuna, who been small, upset and angry. He had total faith in his boss, but the future seemed so bleak… and there was still the mystery of the Vongola coffin, which seemed almost comical lying exposed on the ground outside. He frowned; it was no use thinking too hard, but he couldn't do much else. He was exhausted. Just being here in the future was exhausting, but it seemed like sleep was too far away to grasp.
As he tossed and turned, discrete, padding footsteps sounded outside the door, and it glided opened with a soft click.
There was silence as Tsuna murmured something at the disturbance and turned once, but Gokudera stiffened, reaching for a small bunch of explosives hidden beneath his pillow, fully expecting an attack before a hand rested on Gokudera's back and Yamamoto's familiar voice whispered into his ear.
"Shh, It's just me. Meet me at the dumpster out back in five minutes, I want to talk to you."
Quashing the urge to get up and punch the man (again) out of courtesy for Tsuna's much-needed rest, Gokudera nodded once and grunted his assent, waiting the five minutes patiently as Yamamoto departed and did whatever it was that he needed t do.
---
"Why the hell did you call me out here?" Gokudera muttered, his voice hoarse, sleepy, irritable, "You know I… ahhm"
He trailed off into a yawn, one hand over his mouth and the other buried in his tousled, silver-grey hair. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. He wanted to understand what had happened, and why the Tenth was in that coffin, but no matter how hard he thought, the answers wouldn't come. Why hadn't he been around to save him? What had gone on in the ten-year gap that was missing from his memory now? If he and the Gokudera from this time were the same person, wouldn't that mean that he had failed…?
He leaned back against the wall of the bunker's dumpster as the tall figure of twenty-five year old Yamamoto emerged from the darkness into the sparse circle of electric light beneath the one solitary light bulb. His eyes were sad, almost nostalgic, Gokudera noted, and his smile was a mixture of pain and gladness. It was slightly unsettling.
"I wasn't lying, you know, when I said that you'd been good,"
"It's a lie, baseball idiot."
Yamamoto smiled, touching the scar on his chin thoughtfully. Had Gokudera always been this predictable? He was happy enough for now, to have seen this boy from his past, and to be told off by him. It was like having the old Gokudera back, the one that laughed, smiled, and called out 'Tenth!' with that cheerful, expectant voice. The Gokudera that was immature, stupidly loyal, and stubborn and proud and… incredibly loving.
But then, it was painful to watch all over again, this incredibly uncanny descent into anger and self-loathing following the loss of someone so precious to the both of them. When the incident with the Tenth occurred, the Gokudera he remembered became similarly withdrawn, blaming himself, blaming others. He'd go off for days at a time, investigating, wandering through the woods to the coffin that held Tsuna's body… which was perhaps why they'd been able to find him.
Yamamoto sighed,
"I wasn't lying. You… You've been a great Right Hand Man to the Boss for the last ten years; and I wanted you to know that It wasn't your fault at all, Gokudera, I –"
"If I was so great, Yamamoto Takeshi , what the hell happened? If it's not my fault, then whose is it? Yours? I knew ... I knew you weren't… good enough… "
Tears rose up in his eyes, threatening to spill. Noticing their glint, Yama moved forward, lifting a hand to brush the tears away as he'd done in the past.
The past that was still going to be in this boy's future.
"Gokudera – " He said, leaning in closely,
"Get away from me! Why are you acting so forward? If you're the same Yama as ten years ago, you'd know that … that I hate you!"
The tears finally spilled over as he shoved the older man away from him, causing him to back into the stained concrete wall opposite him.
"I'm sorry," He said, patiently, just as he'd done earlier. "I'm sorry, Gokudera. I… It's just weird, seeing you like this. You've been gone a lot lately, that's all…"
"What are you talking about?!" Gokudera yelled, "I'm missing ten years of my memory and you expect me to understand your actions? And how would you know anything about me anyway? I would never say anything to you, so – "
He stopped -- Yamamoto had grabbed his arm tightly, looked into his eyes with that intense, angry, determined gaze, and pressed his lips over his.
For a second, Gokudera didn't react; for a second, he had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around the older man. Just for a second. A long, slow, eternal second. Because somehow, and he didn't understand why, Yamamoto knew exactly how to render him completely and utterly useless. His legs were weak, and he found his balance by gripping the metal brackets in the wall behind him, and involuntarily, inexplicably, he responded. As he lost himself in the kiss, Yamamoto broke away.
"I'm sorry," Yamamoto said, softly, "I'm so sorry…"
Gokudera was silent, beet-red, embarrassed, almost. He'd wanted to shout. To slap him, to punch him, to make sure he felt a world of hurt for that one action, but he didn't, he couldn't. He wiped his hand across his mouth and spat at the ground, taking a breath to say something scathing.
But Yamamoto silently pressed a small, cold bottle of liquid against his forehead, and smiled sadly,
"Drink this, and don't shout again. You'll wake the others. I'll bring you back to your room. You'll be needing a good rest for tomorrow."
--
Back in the silent comfort of the bunk bed, with Tsuna sleeping soundly above him, Gokudera mulled the short conversation (if it was even a conversation) over in his mind, fingers to his lips. He felt oddly light-headed, and a strangely sleepy. As he drifted into his own dreams, he was vaguely aware of someone silently watching the both of them. Someone who was undeniably dependable, peaceful, and kind, someone, who, in the dim light of the hallway, was pocketing the small bottle of spiked juice and whistling an old tune. As the figure departed, Gokudera mouthed one word, more to himself than to anyone else…
"Why?"
Because Yamamoto knew that Gokudera was loyal only to Tsuna.
Because Yamamoto knew that he would always be second.
But because he also knew, that he was the only one who could truly understand him.
And he was sure that, whether in the past or in the future, Gokudera would know it too.
--
AN: originally this was going to be a little different, but as usual, my brain decided to do things on its own again.. The beginning seems more a reference to GokuTsuna or something, but I don't want to change it :/
This is the first fic I've posted her for perhaps around two years. Please go easy on me swt
Ahahahahah I hope my writing's improved :"D