I guess I should be embarrassed about doing this again.

...OH WELL. 8Db

Subtle

And on a melancholy, rainy-looking Sunday, on the twenty-second of March, Sasagawa Ryohei realizes that he was irreversibly, uncontrollably in love with Gokudera Hayato. It sounded alright in his head—at least for the first twenty or so minutes, until halfway through lunch he abruptly stands up, a salad leaf halfway to his mouth, silverware dropped on the floor, and gaping at his filet mignon as if it just commented on the current state of European politics. With an American accent.

"BUT DUDE. HE'S A DUDE."

His subconscious merely rolled its eyes. So? "SO…SO….!" Ryohei splutters out loud, amidst the curious stares of the restaurant patrons around him and his date sitting across from him with a concerned expression on her face.

Dumbass, his subconscious sneered until falling silent, as Ryohei opened and closed his mouth, unable to utter his usual derogatory remarks because hell, this was a VOICE INSIDE HIS HEAD (not that it really mattered, it happened relatively often enough) and he was in a PUBLIC PLACE with a HOT GIRL—except that the restaurant patrons were slowly trickling out and his date had snuck off and left him with the tab, not wanting to be associated with an unstable schizophrenic.

Well. That fucking sucks.

So now that he was in love with a GUY and mind you, UNWILLINGLY SO, Sasagawa Ryohei decided that the only way to solve this was to take it like a real MAN and QUIT MOPING AROUND, GODDAMMIT. Which basically meant locking himself in his room and spend the next four hours jacking off to lesbian nun porn. Except it didn't work and it didn't make him any less gay for one mafiaoso right hand man.

Maybe he needed some help.

"Oh, well, if you're in love, onii-san, maybe you should tell him how you feel—"

"OKAYNEVERMINDHAHAHAI'LLSEEYOULATERKYOKO."

"You gotta tell me, man," Ryohei pleaded, all but getting on his knees and clasping his hands as if in desperate prayer, "You just gotta—'cause pretty soon I'll be color-coordinating my suits and singing soundtracks from musicals and buying matching curtains and tea towels and talking at NORMAL DECIBELS and being a whiny bitch and—" here he gulped, and lowered his voice considerably, "give up boxing."

Hibari blinks.

Ryohei lunges, half-deranged and grasps on the front of Hibari's Armani, with a crazed, homicidal look in his eyes. "YOU GOTTA LET ME IN ON THE SECRET." "What secret—" "HOW DO YOU BECOME ASEXUAL?"

Yamamoto couldn't stop laughing.

"Are you sure?" he choked out as he finally calmed down, wiping away tears in his eyes, "Shit dude, you've got horrible taste."

Ryohei couldn't really argue with that claim, so he grumbled relatively quietly, shifting the ice pack from one hand to the other, covering the nasty black eye underneath.

"Though…" Yamamoto contemplated, pointing upwards with his index finger, "the best thing is to tell him exactly what's going on." He smiles winningly, a salesman smile. "And if he doesn't maim you, then you can be assured he feels the same way."

Ryohei nods and decides on next Tuesday. Next Tuesday gives him enough time to write a will.

"WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP THAT?!" he blurted out (quite conveniently) the next Tuesday, complete with over-exuberant gesturing and a horrified look on his face. "God, stop—stop dressing up like a FUCKING WHORE, you sad excuse of a MAN."

And somewhere in Gokudera Hayato's admittedly small reservoir of patience, the last strand snapped.

"What?"

"Look how fucking tight your pants are! I mean- your ass is like practically SHOVED IN MY FACE." Ryohei elaborated accusatively, immune to the death glare that Gokudera was sending out. "IT'S LIKE YOU'RE ASKING TO BE RAPED."

A beat. A very, very, long, drawn-out, sickeningly long beat.

"You make one more remark about my ass and I'll rip your spine out and beat you with it."

"Yessir."

Well. This was vaguely shitty.

It wasn't completely shitty because the fact still stands that one Sasagawa Ryohei was still able to respire and intake nutrients without the support of machines, but being ignored as if he never existed?

Still pretty shitty.

So he spends his days watching soap operas and walking around, (why bother running, it gets you all gross and sweaty anyways) and sometimes even sitting across the street from Gokudera's apartment, pelting stones at the window, settling for the fact that he was going to die alone and unloved.

Not to mention gay.

"GODDAMMITFUCKINGHELLDAMMITDAMMITDAMMIT." He sobs out (in a very manly fashion), pitching the rock with as much vigour as he could muster. Which coincidentally was enough to shatter the entire window.

Ryohei winces slightly as he hears a yelp and wonders if it's a good time to make his escape. But he doesn't get very far, as Gokudera pulls up his window (which Ryohei couldn't help but find comical, the entire thing was broken already) and hollers down at Ryohei, "WHAT TOOK YOU SO FUCKING LONG?"

Silence.

"WELL?"

At this, Ryohei frowned, bewildered at the idea that there were actually people who supported vandalism of their own property as his sense of irrational anger bubbled away within his stomach. He points up at Gokudera, confusion marring his face, "WELL WHAT, BITCH?"

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY ROSES, LAWNHEAD?"

…what.

Maybe it was out of awkwardness of watching Ryohei's slack jaw metaphorically and almost literally dropping to the ground, or the blatant mortification of announcing to the world (which consisted of two passerbys and a dog at a fire hydrant) that one Gokudera Hayato actually wanted roses from Sasagawa Ryohei. Either way, Gokudera quickly ducks inside and slams the window shut (again, slightly comical), not able to face Ryohei.

Three floors down, on the other side of the street between a beat up scooter and a bus stop sign, Sasagawa Ryohei almost laughs himself to asphyxiation.

(And in the next three hours, as Ryohei went to buy an entire shop's worth of roses, chuck them one by one into Gokudera's open-yet-closed window, had a public verbal spar over his embarrassing lack of Emotional Intelligence, was finally, very subtly, invited upstairs, and had his first ever 'accidental-we-are-never-doing/speaking-of-that-again' kiss with a guy, but winds up staying for dinner anyways for his second, third, and fourth 'AWAND/SOTA' kiss, he realizes: Love fucking rocks.)

End.

There's really only one way to write a Ryohei/Gokudera fic: 1) Think up the most ridiculous scenario possible. 2) Write it down.

THAT'S IT.

Thanks for reading guys!