HURM. So here I am with my first ever KHR fic. = u =; I'm not really much of a writer ( cough, I draw way WAY better than I write ), but, hopefully you'll find this fic to be some-what decent.
Set in an AU world, yoooo~
Inspired by the song " Phone Call " by Forever The Sickest Kids

Of course, I don't own anythiiiing.

Gokudera wasn't really one for good – byes. Earlier that month, he had decided to move back to his home of Italy, completely avoiding the friends he had made here. He was careful to steer clear of all the people that had come into his life. Even Tsuna – whom he dubbed as his best and first friend since moving to Japan. Now, as much as he hated to think about how much Tsuna must be worrying right now, it was better to start weening himself from them as soon as possible. At least- attempting to,
This task wouldn't be so hard if his phone wasn't going off constantly. It got to the point where he finally turned the fucking thing on silent and shoved it under the bed. Who the hell was trying to get to him anyway? Can't they tell that he didn't want to talk?

That day he spent the whole day at his little apartment, packing up his things. He didn't really have much to pack, but he never left. Spending as much time in his apartment as possible seemed like a good idea at the time. It let him have less of a risk of running into any unwanted faces.

Of course, packing didn't take up the whole day. He was done with that late that afternoon. Which left him with nothing to do. At all. To be bored out of his mind in this now empty looking apartment. He had a staring contest with the wall for a while, and lost, unfortunately. Having that staring contest made him realize...

This place really needs to be cleaned. Hardcore.

It was sad to see the once white walls slowly turn an off – white. Must've been from all the smoking he did inside during the winter. So he washed the walls, mopped the floors, soaped the carpets- everything. Where he got the energy to actually wash an entire apartment is a mystery.

It was 3:22 in the morning when the busy boy finally took his gloves off, switched off the lights and relaxed. Flopping onto his mostly barren bed, he reached into his side – table drawer, groping around for a pack of cigarettes. He found one, after some time, and snaked a stick out, delicately placing it in between his lips. The lighter was just centimeters in front of his face before he remembered something. "Oh fuck, my phone. "
He quickly ( as quickly as it could be done, anyway ) lit his cigarette and steadily reached under the bed, roaming the under for his phone. It's about time he payed attention to the poor thing. It's been secluded under the bed for a large majority of the time, and it needed some good TLC.
A thumb slipped under the cover and flipped it open, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

97 missed calls, he noted. All from the same person.

" Tch, doesn't that baseball idiot have anything better to do...? " the boy mumbled, leaning back onto the wall. He tucked his silver locks behind his ear, exhaling the toxic from his lungs. The smoke lingered, mingling with the fresh scent of citrus After all that time cleaning, he was slowly re – staining the walls with every puff.

Gokudera stared at his screen, the light nearly burning into his eyes. He stared, and stared, and stared. After all those calls, Yamamoto only left one message, much to the emerald eyed boy's surprise. You would think an idiot like him would flood someone's voicemail with moronic babble.

He bit his lower lip in thought, contemplating whether or not to actually listen to what the baseball fan had to say. For once.
Making that decision to finally check what the other boy had to say seemed to take ages, but he finally did. That voice is the one he wanted to hear the least right now, but it would be rude to just completely ignore the message...like he had ignored his calls...and his entire being. He could feel his stress levels rising already, taking another long drag from his cigarette to calm himself.
Smoke rushed out of his lungs as he heard the dial tone, irritably tapping the ashes off onto the clean floor. The same floor that he would soon be leaving behind. He placed it back in his mouth where it hung sadly. After lazily typing in his password, a monotonous voice came traveling out of his speakers and into his head, informing him of his message.

" Haha, hey Gokudera, it's me...Um... "

Attentive as ever, he sat up. His whole back against the wall now, removing the cancer stick that he just placed on his lips, snugged nicely between his fingers. Furrowed brows found a home on Gokudera's forehead as he strained to listen. Something about the voice is off. It's as if his every word was strained from his tongue. He continued to listen.

" I know that you have been avoiding me for the past couple of weeks now...I'm not sure what it is I did to upset you, but I'm sorry for whatever it was... "

" You didn't do anything, you moron, " Gokudera mumbled half – heartedly. It was hard to be mean to someone who sounds so hurt right now. Especially since that voice belonged to a paranoid idiot whom you loved more than anything.

Yamamoto's message continued. " Haha, anyway, I just called to let you know that you don't have to worry about me prying into your life anymore. From now on, I'm going to leave you alone."

The half - Italian boy's eyes widened slowly at the other's words. The now stubby cigarette slipped from his fingers and onto the silken sheets, sending ashes into the air, dancing with freedom. "Fuck! " he yelped, quickly grabbing the nub, tossing it into a conveniently placed glass of water he had sitting on his table.

" I know that you don't like me in...the same way that I like you...but I learned that I have to respect that.

Maa maa, I'm rambling, heh heh. Anyway... "

The silver haired boy grit his teeth, gripping his phone tighter. Not out of anger though – oh no. There was something else there, ripping away at his insides. He could feel his throat closing up, his breaths became shallow and forced. Why the hell was this jerk forcing himself to say all this bullshit? What in the world compelled him to leave this stupid, stupid, stupid message?!
More importantly, why was Gokudera acting like this? He shouldn't take it the way that he is. He was leaving for Italy the next day – unannounced to anyone. So- he would be the one leaving Yamamoto, not the other way around.

He had planned on living there for a while, to escape the life that he had here, to clear his mind, to get away from Yamamoto – whom he's been scared ( well, maybe not scared. More like intimidated. ) to confess his feelings to. Never in his life has he felt so strongly about another guy, and it was awkward. It pissed him off so much that a buffoon could steal his heart so easily. He just wasn't ready to accept the fact that he had fallen so deep, so quickly for this Japanese boy. What pissed him off even more was in his 15 long, cruel, harsh life, he never saw any of this coming.

" I love you. "

-and he was back in reality. Those 3 simple words hit him like a big pile of rocks. A big, pile of really fucking heavy rocks. Gokudera knew that Yamamoto felt the same way as he did. Hell, everyone knew. It was pretty fucking obvious the he harbored feelings for the silver haired pianist. All the touching that was done, those little glances he gave when no one was looking... All of it set off the blaring alarms in his head. It didn't help that the idiot practically had it tattooed on his big, stupid forehead.

" And I'll always love you...but I should move on and stop chasing a dead dream. Haha, I'll never get far in life chasing you like some stray baseball flying into the stands...."

Goddammit, when did this bastard get so insightful...as insightful as a baseball metaphor can get, anyway.
There was a long pause. A pause that never stopped. The silence was killing Gokudera; driving him insane.

" Have a good life, OK? ....Goodbye Hayato. "

. . . . . . .

" End of message. To delete this message, press- "

Gokudera removed the phone from his ear, ending the call to his inbox. Menacing, yet hurt eyes stared at his phone screen. The grip on it was gentle and shaky. His mind wandered...
This is a good thing, right? It's better that Yamamoto was the one to " break things off " ( if you can even call it that ) ...right? It would be less heartbreaking for Yamamoto this way. Now he wouldn't have to find out about the move to Italy.
If this was such a good thing, why did he feel so ...empty? Like someone just came and stole an important part of him, of his life. He could feel his heart drop into his stomach, forcing the acids to shoot up into his throat. The feeling made him cringe, holding back anything that could possibly attempt to sneak out.

But- then he remembered two very important rules. Rules that he should be ashamed of forgetting.

One being – Shit happens. Deal with it.
Two – Life goes on.

" Tch, you idiot... " he hissed through clenched teeth, smirking slightly. Only this time, that idiot was Gokudera himself. How could he be stupid enough to forget the two things that he's been living his whole life by? You've just got to grin and bear it. So he did. He grinned. He so hard he thought his cheeks were going to fall off.
Then, as if they had a mind of their own, his fingers gently fondled the phone's buttons, rapidly forming words.

' 97 calls? Really? You must be out of your mind, baseball idiot. Who would call that many times in one day? '

It was 3:33 in the morning and there was a very high chance that Yamamoto wasn't even awake, but he hit send anyway, only to type up another one right after wards.

' 97 calls that I missed, might I add. '

It was 3:34 in the morning, and there sat Gokudera in his bed, hoping ever so slightly that he'll be able to talk to that smiling dope one more time before he left.
And, as if someone read his thoughts, he got a text from none other than Yamamoto Takeshi. Which brought Gokudera to another thought. What the fuck is he doing up so late?!

' haha. thru 97 missed calls, i'll finally get over u ( ^ u ^ ) " '

A scoff and a slight shake of the head was all that he had to say. Those silver bangs that were held back by his ears shook loose, falling gracefully back into place.
Bzzzzt! The phone vibrated with anger, revealing a second message.

' i'll miss u 3 '

It was now 4:16 and Gokudera was still upright in his chambers, staring at that message. With a snap, he finally closed his phone and placed it next to his water – a little cigarette corpse floating at the top.

The lone pillow on his bed anxiously awaited for the boy's arrival, through which he happily obliged. His hair fanned out as he rested the side of his head on the wonderful fluff, welcoming sleep with his suddenly burning eyes.

It was 6:01 in the morning by the time he finally fell asleep.

This night his pillow was strangely damp, tasting mildly of salt and a broken heart.

OTL. Rushed ending is rushed.
Tell me what you think!