The Pure and the Tainted
The Pure and the Tainted - 8059
by I'll rebel to Anything
Rating: M *For a reason*
Summary: Gokudera is renowned for his bad-boy attitude. But what is it that he's keeping hidden away, from everyone, even his own lover, Yamamoto? Will he finally break his silence, or continue to suffer alone, letting his past eat away at him? When the past threatens to repeat itself through different, yet all too familiar means, Gokudera can feel his hold on reality begin to slip. Will Yamamoto be able to handle the truth as well as his duties as a Guardian while desperately trying to keep Gokudera together? Yaoi. Non-con.
Warnings: Yaoi, (male/male), Shouen-ai, non-con / rape, abuse of various kinds and a suicide attempt *spoiler*. Established relationship between Gokudera and Yamamoto. Hurt/Comfort/Romance/Drama.
DO NOT READ if any of these elements might disturb you. Otherwise, enjoy :3
Pairings: Gokuderax Yamamoto and vice versa.
Important: This ultimately is set quite a bit after Yamamoto and Gokudera have met, but they haven't fought Mukuro yet, or the Varia (but that is to come). There are reasons for this, however it is set in an AU, so although the plot will develop more-or-less in accordance to the manga, the way the events are unfolded will be rather different. In other words, foundations are the same, but where they lead to are a little different :)
A/N: This particular fan fiction will deal with some painful and maybe even disturbing (AKA - graphic) parts of Gokudera's history that will be vaguely hinted at various times in the beginning chapters. It will be fully explained in later chapters. Also, some scenes may seem out of character to what you're accustomed to with the manga (like Gokudera's unshakable calm and his indifference towards romance...) but that is just my artists/author's impression of what he would be like if he were in love. So, bear with it, even through the mushy bits.
Please note the warnings. There will be some very painful and angsty moments in this fic. dealing with heavy and severe themes like rape and abuse of various degrees, especially the abuse of a minor and the effects it has on your mental state. Obviously, these are awful things to ever have to encounter and a large part of this fic. is centered around the mental and emotional scars/wounds *another spoiler considering it's in the present tense* that such situations leave behind - I haven't chosen these themes to mock them - such topics are painful for anyone who must endure them - I haven't purposefully chosen them either - it is just a part of the overall plotline I have for this particular fan fiction.
But please, if you think these themes and situations might offend you, don't read. The last thing I want is to mentally disturb or traumatize anyone and this story will get very dark and 'angsty' in a fairly detailed way during some flashback scenes (gomen - I'm just that kind of writer). I do promise that there will be lots of comfort for all the hurt though. I suppose it's an exploration of my own feelings and what you would expect in these situations, but AGAIN, this is only MY impressionn alright? :) *points at Yamamoto who will show us he does actually have a nice soft spot deep down, as does good ol' Goku-chan :D*
So far, whilst writing this chapter specifically, I've had my playlist 'Current Obsession' on autoplay the entire time - yet I keep gravitating towards 'Masterpiece Theatre III' by Marianas Trench which i somehow think will suit later chapters - but until then, think of it as a spoiler *Listen to the lyrics :)* and then there was the Crawling RMX by Linkin Park *sorta an orchestral version...sorta :D*
Disclaimer: katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters do not belong to me (ahem, I WISH they did...). They belong to their inspiring creator Akira Amono(Who I'm sure will not be too pleased by what I'm going to put these two epic characters through :D). Yes, I have borrowed them without permission, but with great respect and affection. This story is for entertainment purposes only; no money is being made from it.
Now that I've finally finsihed my inane babbling, we can get on with the story =3 However, if you haven't already and have just scrolled down because of the shock of so much writing, PLEASE READ IT ALL! It may be a pain, but I don't want any hate letters please =) Thank you!
"Don't walk out on me when I can't follow"
Chapter One: Modesty is Key
Who would have thought that the night sky could be so alluring? Gokudera knelt on his bed in a bored but comfortable manor, resting his chin on his fist, elbow supported on the window frame, eyes cast heaven-ward.
Wonder when that baseball nut is gonna come bounding in.
The thought had been flitting through the Storm Guardian's mind for a few hours as he had scoured his room for something to occupy his time. Homework and assignments had taken far less time than he had anticipated, and dinner with Tsuna's mother had been wonderful, but too fast and awkward. As much as the tenth's hospitality was appreciated, the Italian assassin couldn't relax.
Except when around that retarded sport freak - Honestly, where was the logic? It was accounted for that you had to be on guard when in the presence of your boss, but at the dinner table? Was his anxiety really that necessary?
Gokudera sighed and bonked his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes. His fingers itched to bring out a cigarette and ease his nerves with the cancerous drug, but of course, there were such things as smoke detectors and his room was too small for the fumes to diffuse enough to not set off the alarm.
In other words, he didn't want to be a bother – not to the tenth.
Opening his eyes again, Gokudera gave up on star-gazing, finding each flickering white speck a conundrum. You just didn't know what to do with yourself – were you supposed to be in awe of these balls of helium that blazed over a good million light-years away? Should you reminisce about what life would be like if you managed to find a world that could support intelligent life? Or should you waste your time imagining how many stars there were between yourself and the edge of the universe – which would then lead on to the questions which would arise on the issue of whether the universe did end…
The assassin sighed irritably, looking up the bland white ceiling. He was so bored he could have taken up knitting.
There was a sudden cry out from the streets, most probably a group of drunk teenagers not knowing what to do with themselves. Even though there was a rational explanation to the vocal outburst, one which was not too rare in any neighbourhood that housed families, Gokudera felt a shiver as his mind lingered over a raw memory he had no intention of looking back over.
Don't go there. Ignore it. Don't, DON'T!
The whip came down on his bare back again and he cried out despite himself. His fists were clenched so tight he thought his knuckles were going to splinter. His palms were slick with his own blood, but that was a fleeting pain compared to what was going to be done to him.
There was low laughter and the repulsive stench of booze in the room. He was unable to see whether it was day or night with the windows blacked out, but all that was barely a flitting thought across his mind as he felt the last of his clothing torn off his body.
"No…" He whimpered pitifully. "Please, just…please…" Tears coursed down his smooth cheeks and he gasped as the men laughed drunkenly, boasting, "Damn, isn't his ass just begging us? I'm so ready I could come right now."
"But," A laugh, "You need to prep him or he'll," another hiccup of a laugh, "bleed."
Another one belched, "Who said we all had to take him from that end?"
There was a horrendous sight displayed to Gokudera's face, an appendage that stood proudly in front of his mouth, weeping lightly, a smug grin plastered across a masked mans face.
"No," Gokudera whimpered, crying out like an infant as he was brutally violated from both terminals.
With a gasp, Gokudera dragged himself away from the memory. He was coated in a light sheen of sweat and his breaths were coming raggedly, practically tearing themselves from his lungs.
He felt disgusted by how he had been used like that and turned onto his side, curling into a small ball, eyes squeezed tight, teeth bared and clenched, muttering in Italian.
Yamamoto, please come back…please hurry.
He couldn't control the trembling of his body and was shocked into stillness as the door to his room was flung open, a very familiar presence filling the otherwise chilled atmosphere.
"Hey Hayato, I'm back-" Yamamoto called to the Italian as he dropped his sports bag down by the door. Gokudera could imagine that easy-going grin that Yamamoto managed to pull off with such ease and forced himself not to move. He ached to roll off of his ass and bound towards the Rain Guardian and hold on to him with as much strength as he could muster. The burning itch to bind himself to reality through the Japanese teen almost over-come the bomber, but he managed to keep a hold of his control.
Until of course, the baseball nut caught on to his stiffness –damn Yamamoto and his instincts.
"Oi, Hayato, are you alright there? You haven't moved a muscle since I arrived…"
Gokudera remained still, eyes staring blankly at the wall, arm tucked under his head, the other slung across his side, fist clenched. He gnawed on his lower lip to stop himself from making a sound.
"Hey, I'm talking to you-" Yamamoto huffed and in an instant, he was hovering over the Italian boy like a rain cloud, amber eyes concerned.
He smiled tentatively at Gokudera, one of his hands brushing his silver hair away from his face where it had fallen over his eyes, "Is something the matter Gokudera?"
Oh great. The use of his last name always meant the swordsman was being serious now – he was seriously concerned and wouldn't leave until Gokudera had given him a response.
"It's nothing alright?" Gokudera growled, switching on his customary scowl.
Yamamoto sighed, relieved that he'd at least gotten a response from the boy, "Honestly, I am sorry I'm late alright? I didn't try to make you wait."
Gokudera just continued to fix his steely gaze on the wall. Yamamoto wasn't having a single morsel of it though and got a firm grip of Gokudera's wrist, hoisting him up.
"Oi, you moron, what're you doin'?" Gokudera snarled, but it was only half-hearted. His chest quaked as his eyes met those of his lover, their steady gaze drinking him. He sighed and hung his head, ashamed of his temper. Hadn't just spent a good hour and a half killing time, waiting for this boy to return?
Yamamoto nuzzled Gokudera's neck sensually, his free hand pushing the assassin back into the wall as he pinned him down, wrists held in his hands.
Gokudera felt himself flush immediately and looked away to the side, "seriously, Takeshi, you're mood swings are gonna give me whiplash soon."
Yamamoto laughed lightly and Gokudera didn't need to look at the Rain Guardian to tell he had his mouth turned lopsided in that crooked grin, eyebrows raised incredulously.
"You're actually accusing me, the most care-free of guys, of ferocious mood-swings?" He nuzzled Gokudera's neck again, lips moving across his collarbone with excruciating care. He moaned as Yamamoto inched his body closer, relishing in how his world was overcome by this boys essence. The fresh smell of shampoo told him that Yamamoto had caught a shower before coming back from training and in turn, began to nuzzle the guy's neck, mimicking the Rain Guardian's moves with his own.
In the back of his mind, Gokudera felt the echo of the memory he had been swallowed by earlier re-surface, that resounding wail of his younger self under the control and at the mercy of those dirt bags and drew away from Yamamoto like he'd been repelled by a magnetic force. His nose shrivelled up in disgust, but in himself, not directed towards to Yamamoto.
The baseball fanatic didn't take it that way though. He dropped his hands from where he was still holding the bomber's phantom wrists against the wall, head hanging, with his eyes shadowed. There was a sad smile playing on the corners of those seductive lips of his and he muttered, "I shouldn't have forced you like that. Sorry Hayato."
He began to step off of Gokudera's bed and make his way over to his own at the other end of the room when Gokudera practically fell off the bed, gripping Yamamoto's shirt with all his might.
Now it was Gokudera's turn to have his face hidden under his silver waterfall of hair, eyes cast downwards at the floor, tears threatening to leak out from his tightly shut eyes.
"Please, Takeshi, I'm sorry – just – just don't leave. Stay." He kicked himself internally for how his voice shook, but Yamamoto caught on to how something was very definitely wrong here with his Italian lover and knelt down, taking his face gently in his hands. Yamamoto drew his brows together as those clear eyes peered into Gokudera's green ones, searching for that shadowed secret he refused to ever let the swordsman know.
He couldn't look too deep. He couldn't find that memory – don't let him see it. Don't let him know how tainted and repulsive and abused you are.
Defeated by the sudden walls Gokudera threw up in an attempt to hide how much he was struggling behind his tough-guy façade, Yamamoto took him in his arms silently, gripping the bomber's shirt tightly, as though if he didn't, Gokudera may just float away into space.
Gokudera mimicked the motion, burrowing his face in the boy's shoulder, comforted by how it fit in the hollow of his neck perfectly. He kept his eyes shut as tightly as he could whilst he mentally battled for control over what he would much rather have forgotten.
Once the screams had faded to a dull roar in the furthest depths of his thoughts, Gokudera retracted from Yamamoto's side, pressing his lips to Yamamoto's, and responded instantaneously when his lover flinched. Only then did he notice the iron tang to their kiss and pulled back, his famous scowl back in place.
His eyes focused on the small cut on Yamamoto's lip and when his eyes went up to meet his, Gokudera was suddenly thrown off kilter by how tired his lover suddenly looked.
"Hey, Takeshi, what's the matter?" He felt retarded for having been so conceited and focused on his own issues. He hadn't even noticed how drained Yamamoto had looked even with that easy going smile still playing on his lips, despite his busted lip.
"It's nothing, honestly Hayato. I'm more concerned about you-" Yamamoto began to dodge the question but Gokudera wasn't having any of it and leant closer to his lover, like a prowling cat, enough to make even Uri proud. His face was barely an inch from Yamamoto's and he felt intoxicated by how he felt the swordsman's breath on his face.
He shook himself internally – Control Gokudera. Honestly, you retard.
"Don't ignore my question Takeshi. What's happened to you? I thought you were training with Squalo. What went wrong?"
Gokudera was far more used to Yamamoto returning from practice with Squalo banged up than he would ever like, but it came with the package of being a Vongola Guardian, and both had become accustomed to both licking their own wounds and tending to each others. Though Yamamoto didn't look too beaten up, it didn't take a psychic to tell his pride had been stamped on till it was less than dust.
"Shut up and kiss me damnit," The Rain Guardian replied and forced his soft lips onto Gokudera's, his hot mouth easing Gokudera's open. His skilled tongue met Gokudera's with ease, running it over his, making his thoughts haze and muddle into one muddled, very much occupied jumble of sensations.
Yamamoto sucked on Gokudera's tongue hungrily, his hand curling around the Italian's head, gripping his shaggy silver hair possessively, drawing him closer so he could push his tongue in deeper.
Gokudera moaned into their kiss, his hands drawn around Yamamoto's back like a vice, pressing his chest up against Yamamoto's.
Minutes past unnoticed as the two explored each others mouths with familiar ease, where if one of them retracted, the other seeked entrance to the other's hot steamy mouth, and thus, the hot make-out session continued before they drew away, breathless.
"Damn, gotta remember to breathe through the nose," Yamamoto joked, but his eyes still seemed troubled. He hadn't said anything about what had happened at training, and Gokudera knew better than to pry. Instead, he stayed sat on the carpet while Yamamoto got to his feet and slouched lazily over to his bed, pulling his t-shirt over his head whilst he walked.
Just the sight before him – a fairly mundane scene – was enough to make Gokudera's ear flush slightly as he took in Yamamoto's toned biceps and how his back muscles worked so effortlessly under that tight undershirt.
Which Gokudera only noticed was slowly being stained with blood once Yamamoto had stripped down into boxers.
"Shit Yamamoto, you're bleeding!" Gokudera noticed.
Yamamoto started, and looked down to his chest to see a slowly spreading red diagonal line. It was only then that the pain seemed to register with the swordsman and his legs buckled under the immense jarring pain.
Damn, how had he made it home without noticing this?
The details mattered little to Gokudera who hunted around their desk draws to find their very much overused first aid kit.
"C'mere you masochistic retard," Gokudera spoke the command in an endearing way that only Yamamoto could recognise. To anybody else the tone was read as cranky and most would go speeding away in the opposite direction.
Yamamoto nestled himself in front of Gokudera, his legs spread for ease of access as Gokudera inched closer, flicking the latch of the first aid kit. While his hand hunted around for the bandages and disinfectant, the two found their eyes couldn't break apart.
Yamamoto gave the Italian assassin his rare, affectionate smile reserved only for him and Gokudera returned it with his own strangely warm smirk. If ever a smirk could be considered as 'affectionate' then Gokudera certainly was the only one who could pull it off.
"Hold still – you already know this is gonna hurt." Gokudera was none to careful as he splashed on the disinfectant, and he saw Yamamoto hiss and flinch, the wound reddening.
"Yikes, you sure are rough," Yamamoto noticed unnecessarily while the silver-haired boy expertly wrapped a white bandage around his chest.
"Serves you right for being so careless," Gokudera muttered.
He more sensed than saw Yamamoto sigh, accustomed to Gokudera's foul moods and absent-mindedly fiddled with a lock of his silver hair.
"Oi, don't move I said," Gokudera snapped, trying to pin the bandage down with a safety pin.
With the pin finally snapped shut, Gokudera shut the medic-kit and had just slid the desk drawer closed when Yamamoto spoke, all regular humour washed out of his voice, his back to the Storm Guardian.
"I can't choose."
Gokudera sighed this time, folding his arms and leant against the ledge of the desk, "Why not? What do you have to choose between?"
Yamamoto's toned shoulders hunched and he imagined him cupping his head in one hand, eyes slowly dimming as he sank into uncertainty.
It looked like even the most straightforward of people had bad days.
"It's my choice – the sword or baseball. Squalo refuses to continue training me unless I choose."
Now Gokudera understood.
"Well, I suppose it depends on where your loyalty lies." He shrugged, as if the key component in this choice was that easy.
Yamamoto spun his head around, weary of his bandaged chest, "What?"
Gokudera rubbed the inner parts of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd had since he'd been small. And indicator that he was losing his patience.
"I mean, do you owe your loyalty towards Tenth and your father for having taught you those skills, or to your old life where your only passion in life was what gave you your retarded nickname?"
Yamamoto grimaced and took his head in his hands again, this time falling back so he was on his back, palms over his eyes. He breathed in deeply, chest rising, holding it.
"Damnit…" he hissed.
Although Gokudera did feel for his lover, he felt relieved that he could focus on such a simple issue as this, able to pull away from that awful memory that kept on haunting him.
He walked over to the still Guardian and knelt down, hitching a leg over his body so he was straddling the swordsman.
"Shall I show you what you'll miss if you don't choose us?"
His voice had taken on a possessive, husky tone, and he shuddered at the response Yamamoto gave him as he ran his tongue over the Guardian's neck. He stopped just where he felt his pulse beating steadily and sucked on the sensitive spot, pressing himself closer when Yamamoto's breath hitched.
Yamamoto chuckled, his prior concerns washing away like they would in a storm – how ironic. His hands curled around Gokudera's back, fingers slipping under his shirt. He ran them over his lover's smooth skin greedily, pressing his body closer before he hungrily tore off his shirt.
"In a rush are we?" Gokudera knew the question was rhetorical though, and while still straddling Yamamoto, let his hand move down to his belt buckle, moaning at how close he and Yamamoto were, the way their hips ground together and with skilled fingers, both unclasped his belt and unzipped his pants.
Yamamoto then took over whilst he claimed Gokudera's mouth, tongue ravaging his while he hooked his thumbs over Gokudera's belt, swiftly tugging his pants down and off.
Free of the extra friction and clothed now only in boxers, the two moved together in perfect synchronisation, mouths moving together expertly like two joint entities.
Yamamoto stiffened imperceptibly as he rubbed his body up across Gokudera's, his lips parting slightly as he inhaled a little too sharply.
Gokudera felt his thoughts sink into a most welcome haze of desire and burning need and made no attempt to hide it as he began to stroke the sensitive are just between Yamamoto's hips. Yamamoto groaned into their kiss, tongue pushing down on Gokudera's in the same way Gokudera was on his thigh now.
Gokudera's warm, intimate caress on Yamamoto's leg caused a jolt of intense fire to ripple through him. His heart thudded in his chest.
Aroused tingles began to radiate from the two, the epicentre at Gokudera's hand which continued to stroke the firm muscle until it made its way to the hardening bulge that lay under the thin fabric of Yamamoto's boxers.
Slowly, Gokudera made his long fingers stretch out and lightly tracing the outline of the hardness they had found. Yamamoto moaned, burning with how aroused he felt now, bucking his hips slightly so Gokudera could cup his manhood more firmly. If only he would pull off his boxers, then he could really let himself go.
Yamamoto felt his heart rate lurch uncontrollably while Gokudera tenderly caressed his hip bones and then moved away teasingly.
Gokudera's fingers gripped Yamamoto's biceps, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to push his lover away or pull him closer.
It had been practically a century since Yamamoto had so easily let himself go... too long... and his whole body ached for the Rain Guardian. Of course, with all the training, these moments then meant more to the two Guardians.
"Fuck!" Yamamoto accidentally said aloud, his arousal flaring as Gokudera shifted his hips.
Gokudera spoke seductively by his ear, "I thought I was already…"
"Lusty arrogant bastard…" Yamamoto moaned, his hands shooting out to grip Gokudera's annoyingly still clothed rear.
In response to this, Gokudera's knee slid itself between Yamamoto's thighs, moving up and down in excruciating slow motions that sent sparks of electricity sizzling through Yamamoto's blood. Gokudera then rubbed his chest up against Yamamoto's their smooth skin creating almost no friction had it not been for their warm, toned muscles.
All of Gokudera's ministrations were being painfully suggestive and Yamamoto could only groan and buck his aching hips longingly for the release he knew the Italian bomber could give him with his sensual rhythmic motions.
He practically cried out with pleasure when the devilish Guardian's hard thigh rubbed his crotch with seductive urgency.
Then, shattering the heightened sexual atmosphere between the two of them, Gokudera felt that all too unwelcome scream from the back of his mind break free of his mental chains. It shook through him worse than the largest of earthquakes and shook him like a rag doll.
With a sudden jolt, all of his sexual desire was bled dry of him and he practically threw himself away from his lover, back jarred as he hit their coffee table.
Yamamoto groaned, annoyed at how he had come so close to climaxing only to have it taken away from him, and sat up, ready to voice his complaints.
Until he saw Gokudera's face.
Any arousal he might have had left, down in that area or anywhere else, went limp immediately. Within seconds, he was crouched by Gokudera, whose eyes hadn't moved since he'd hit the table.
They were wide and unseeing, just vacant in the scene before him. It was obvious that he had been shocked by something. Yamamoto whispered his name, "Hayato?" as quietly as he could, knowing that sometimes it would shake him out of whatever vice his mental state had gotten him into.
Instead, Gokudera's eyes filled with tears which poured uncontrollably down his face. He screamed at the top of his lungs for a brief moment, a moment that made Yamamoto recoil in instinctive fear, before curling in on himself, hugging his knees, head burrowed between his chest and legs. He rocked back and forth slowly, whimpering like a child.
Yamamoto had no idea what to do. His instincts had been right – that outburst had been like a small fragment of Gokudera's mind just splintering, like a hairline crack in a vase that could make the entire thing smash to pieces at any time if left unnoticed. Amazing what you could learn as a swordsman when reading other people, but right then, all he could draw his attention to was the bed that Gokudera had been staring at before he had lost control.
He looked over. All he could see was Gokudera's bed – a white mattress, unsuspecting black duvet, a black pillow and a white sheet. Nothing too conspicuous…so what had made the boy scream out as he had?
Go away, Gokudera thought while Yamamoto fussed in silence. Stop it!
His pleas were directed at the sight he saw before him – the unbearably indecent act that was being carried out on his bed.
His younger self, being brutally violated by those countless men, all whose faces were obscured by fiery masks.
He cringed at the sound of his tortured self as he was raped in the most disgusting of ways, from every possible opening he had.
Don't let me see this! Not again! Please, please, please just stop it!
With one final cry of agony towards his own humiliated past and dirtied self, he collapsed into Yamamoto's arms, whimpering all the while, tears running shamelessly down his face.
Just as he felt a swarming pit of darkness rear up to engulf him, Yamamoto's voice broke through the pained silence.
"Hayato!"
But his efforts were wasted. Gokudera had passed out, from shock at what he had seen, or from the stress of it all. Either way, Yamamoto was left stunned; his lover's body limp in his arms. At least he was breathing, but knowing his character, if he asked Gokudera what had happened, he would clam up faster than an oyster.
His only option was to wait for morning and then at least attempt to wring the information out of the Storm Guardian, but until then -
What the fuck was going on?