Warnings: Rated M for violence, blood, boyxboy=Yaoi, swearing, and lemon in later chapters! If ya don't like then please don't read.

Disclaimer: Gah don't I wish *pouts*

Pairing: YamamotoxGokudera 8059 3

Beta'd by: ClaymoreDarkAlicia

A/N: Hey guys, this is my first attempt at writing fanfic so please be kind. Its unbeta'd, and all comments welcome just please be nice. Id appreciate any kind of tips and ideas on how to improve as well.

***REPOST*** I reposted this chapter after it was beta'd*-*

Walking After You

Prologue: Black

White.

That was the first and last thing he could remember before it all went black.

His breath came out slow and raspy as laid there on the cold floor, ignoring the loud ringing that echoed throughout his ears. He felt nothing, nothing at all, his body was numb, but somehow he knew it hurt, he knew that something was terribly wrong. But why couldn't he feel it? Slowly he opened his eyes only to glare slightly at the dark smoke and cloud filled sky that gloomily welcomed him.

'Huh? Wait… smoke?'

He sat up quickly, only to double over gasping out as his body regained its feeling, sending tremors of pain over and over throughout his aching body. With his face placed roughly between his knees, his silver hair fell around his face, he bit his lip, and slowly took it all in. The sharp pain that his right side screamed, now revealing a large gash that was bleeding freely, the limp unmoving ache his right arm pulsed as he tried to raise it, and the undeniably unbearable pounding his head echoed loudly as he tried to grasp his situation.

He stayed this way for several minutes, gasping for air, as his left arm franticly trembled between his right side and arm trying to comfort the pulsing pain somehow, to give himself some kind relief, but failed at every attempt he made. He shivered unnaturally as he felt something cold and wet slid down the back of his neck and sides of his face. He sat up slowly, grimacing with pain as he did, as his left hand instinctively investigated this cold sickening sensation that he now flowed further down his back and onto his chest.

'Blood, a lot of blood.' He stared at his pale almost translucent hand, the sight of it made him sick to his stomach.

'This isn't good at all.'

He blinked quickly, trying to focus his eyes to get a look at where he was.

'What the fuck is going on? What the hell happened to me? Where am I? How the hell did I get here?'

These questions only bounced around his head causing it to ache even more. So instead he quickly looked around for the answers, for something, anything that would let him know where he was and what was going on.

He could see he was in some sort of building or what used to be one, since it was now reduced to rubble and him being in the midst of it. He was sitting in a small hole, that obviously wasn't meant to be there, about two feet or so in the ground. The edges of this hole was littered with pieces of the buildings remains, some of which still burned with a dull lit flame. He could taste and see smoke as it hazily filled the area, causing his eyes to water slightly. He could definitely smell gun powder for sure, it overpowered anything and everything else that lingered around him and stung at the back of his dry parched throat.

'What the hell happened here? An explosion maybe?'

Not being able to get a satisfied look of his surroundings by sitting on the ground, he weakly struggled to get up. Using some of the debris that had fallen around him for support, he finally pulled his self up, groaning and gasping loudly as pain continued to shoot through his body with every move.

He felt completely drained, his feet were heavy and what few steps he was taking felt like hundreds. Panting heavily he stumbled, his vision blurring, to the nearest thing he could use for support and crashed into it, putting all his weight on it as he did. His right arm dangled limply at his side as and his left arm was now tightly clamped over the gushing wound on his side.

Now that he was up and moving he could feel the same cold wet sensation running down his leg and arm now. Squinting his cloudy green eyes he looked himself over and cursed out loud at his horrid appearance.

'What the hell-!'

His head, abdomen and arm were obviously bleeding freely, and he could see now that he was covered head to foot with numerous cuts and scrapes that burned and stung as they too seeped blood. He had to be honest with himself, he looked like shit. His clothes were not only dirty, tattered, ripped, and singed, but covered in blood as well. The light blue shirt he wore was now a dark purple, and his jeans were just as equally disgusting and torn.

He felt even sicker now, but willed his self to continue moving.

Slowly and steadily he began to make his way out of the hole, resting on anything he could on his way up. He chuckled darkly to himself looking at this small hole he was struggling so hard to get out of. He was almost out, but yet the top seemed so high and far away. He gritted his teeth hard as his entire body ached and pulsed with pain. Every gasping breath he took shot pain through his chest and he could slowly feel his lungs and chest filling with blood. The constant pain, it was almost more than he could bare. Panting heavily he finally collapsed on the edge of the small hole with a loud groan as he pulled his self onto the cold concrete of the buildings' ground level floor, leaning heavily on some fallen debris.

He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath. He honestly had no clue what was going on or how he ended up in this situation.

'Fuck! Why? Why can't I remember?' He couldn't remember anything at all. His mind was blank, all he could see was white.

Further frustrated now, he looked about his surroundings once again. Ignoring his blurring vision he stumbled forward only for his feet to catch on something, sending him lurching forward hard onto the cold floor. Not only did he not have the strength to stop his self from hitting, but both his arms, one being completely useless, and the other tightly clamped over the wound in his side, were occupied. He groaned out in pain as his face roughly made contact with the cold rigid concrete, causing him to bite his tongue. He could taste it now, the slick iron taste of his blood as it slowly filled his mouth.

'Disgusting,' he spat out weakly, but it didn't get very far, creating a string of saliva mixed with blood that now clung to his dry lips.

He laid there groaning, his eyes boring into nothingness as they focused on anything in particular; exhaustion was beginning to take him over.

'This is pathetic.'

He didn't even have the strength to flip himself over, let alone get up and walk out of there.

'Is this it? Am I going to die? Like this? In some random unknown building?'

He gasped loudly, taking in a sharp painful gasp of air, coughing and choking on the blood that continued to fill his mouth. His eyes were now registering what he had been staring at but not truly seeing.

It was a leg. A few feet in front of him was a human leg. He gasped as he released his wound in order to push himself up, straining his neck and causing pain to shoot down his back, as he did so. His eyes widened as he slowly scanned up the leg, following it, until he was staring at the person the leg belonged to, laying flat on his stomach just like him, a person that was dressed in a once nice suit, a person that was unmistakable dead.

His breathing was now coming out short, fast, and wet as it painfully left his lungs. He stared horror stricken at the dead lifeless man before him. Franticly he scanned around him; his stomach dropped and his eyes widened even further: he was not alone. There were at least four others scattered about the area, and they all, too, were dead.

He closed his eyes tightly and looked away, forcing his face into the cold concrete, coughing roughly and spitting out blood and saliva, as he forced down the nausea's feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat.

'What the fuck is going on? Who are these men?' he asked himself once again, squeezing his eyes tightly as he tried to recall how he ended up in this situation. But nothing came. 'Why… Nothing?'

He let his eyes relax now, drowning out the loud pounding in his head he focused on the sounds around him instead. Small clatters as pieces of rubble fell here and there, the crackle of flames that were slowly burning out, a soft whoosh and ruffle of the wind that blew dirt in his face and his hair messily, a far away yell he couldn't make out, a yell…

His eyes snapped open and he froze as he listened more intently. The first yell was soon followed by another yell, but it was louder this time, closer? He focused on it as the sound got closer and closer, louder and louder. He soon could tell that it wasn't just one voice yelling, but several now.

What was that? Footsteps? Wrenching his head from the ground, he franticly opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, his throat was too sore and dry. He stiffened slightly as he heard a loud clatter near, followed by a thud and then an angry growl. He once again tried to speak, but again nothing. He could hear the voices now, louder, yelling, yelling the same thing over and over.

'What is it?'

He couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Well, he really didn't care what they were saying as long as they found him, as long as someone found him, as long as he didn't die here like this, alone, surrounded by these dead men he didn't know.

The voices now sounded like they were just on the other side broken building now.

'Here! I'm here!' he screamed franticly in his head, thrashing his body from side to side to move, but again nothing came out. 'I… not like this'.

Tears began to swell up in his eyes as he opened them wider, panicking now, feeling all his energy draining away by the second.

'MOVE dammit!' he screamed at himself, forcing his working arm to pull and drag his body somewhat forward. Tears were now streaming down his face in pain and frustration as he tried to force his body to move further, faster.

Footsteps, he could hear them so clearly now. He squinted hard, forcing his eyes, willing them to see. There they were, three blurry figures on the other side of the room, just beyond the hole. He couldn't make out their features, but he could see that two were maybe average in height, he couldn't tell for sure, and the other was quite tall. He focused on them, watching them as they split up and swiftly went about the room, looking over its contents, while yelling that same phrase he heard them yelling before, he could make it out clearly now.

"Gokudera!"

"Octopus-Head!"

"Hayato!"

They would see him… right? They had to.

'I mean, I'm right here'.

In his last and final attempt to be found, his voice finally released, a low raspy groan, followed by a loud thud that belonged to a rock he weakly threw.

'They had to hear that,' he thought, dropping his head to the floor once again as exhaustion took him over and he closed his eyes, his left arm still stretched out before him.

In fact his low groan echoed throughout the room loudly, drawing the attention to the other three. Immediately the room went silent, only for it to erupt with the yells of the three unknown men.

"Gokudera!" one frantic voice yelled.

"We found him!" another voice yelled farther off, as if he was calling to others. "Over here! Hurry to the EXTREME!"

The moment he heard them yelling, a sense of relief over took his body. He was found.

He heard the loud clank and scrapping of metal hitting concrete as someone rushed over him. A pair of strong hands roughly grabbed his shoulders and turned him over. He gritted his teeth hard, letting a low guttery groan escaping his lips, while pain shot through his body once again as he was turned. He felt those large hands pull him up slightly into someone's arms as this man cradled his body gently. He could faintly hear the voices of the other two in background yelling about.

'Warm, it's so warm…'

"Hayato!"

Those arms that he laid in were so warm, so familiar that his pain was soon forgotten and numbed as their warmth flowed over him.

"Hayato! Hayato, can you hear me?" the man yelled franticly, as one of the man's hands wondered about his chest and abdomen tugging at his shirt, examining his wounds."Shit… Hayato?" His loud voice was filled with anxiety and terror as he spoke. But why did it sound so soothing and familiar to him?

Opening his eyes weakly, he caught a hazy glimpse of the man who cradled him. The man's dark black hair, his large brown eyes, eyes that were brimming with tears and filled with fear.

At that exact moment two things went through his head.

One, who was this man? This man that held him so gently yet so tight in his arms, this man who had tears running down his face now, who was he?

Two, who was Hayato?

Then it all went black.

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Thanks and see you next chapter!