The challenge: put your iPod on shuffle and, for the duration of each song that comes, write a fic using that song as the prompt.

Found these old fics on a few sheets of paper from a few years ago so I decided to publish them.

and that's the reason why when you're young you fall in love:

an 8059 multi-part drabblefic

i) i'm still here — vertical horizon

A fist came hurtling towards Yamamoto's face. Deftly catching the hand in his own, he looked at its owner, who was shaking with barely repressed rage and a hint of…

Wait, were those tears?

"Damn you, you idiot… Why'd you leave like that?" Gokudera spat, swiping away tears roughly — surreptitiously, he wanted to think — with the back of his free hand.

The only reply he got was a pair of arms wrapping around his frame, gentle but firm.

"Fuck you," he began, glaring at Yamamoto with an intensity that almost made the taller man look away, "Fuck you and your running off like that like you could take on the entire Millefiore by your own fucking self —"

A finger to the lips.

"It's okay, Gokudera. I'm still here."

ii) tattooed on my mind — d'sound

It's been a while since you've last seen him. A few weeks, a month maybe? Your mind wanders again as to the possible whereabouts of the silver-haired, short-tempered man who left a good while before. He didn't tell anyone where he was going, not even Tsuna. It worried everyone. It worried you especially.

Gokudera Hayato.

The very name rings loudly in the current, placid emptiness of your mind — heh heh, you laugh quietly to yourself, Gokudera would've agreed on that one — for the nth time this day. Questions like Where could he be? What is he doing? How is he feeling? Is he getting into all sorts of trouble again?, and, not surprisingly, Is he thinking about you the same way you are now? float into your head, prompting even more questions.

Sighing — you know you're not going to get anywhere thinking too much about it; Gokudera always made sure to point out the fact of you not being able to come up with anything relatively decent, ha ha ha — you close your eyes, lean back into the couch and fall asleep, thoughts drifting into dreams into silver and green and smoke and storms.

(You fail to see the silver-haired figure standing outside your window, gazing wistfully in what he hopes is your general direction.)

iii) stay close, don't go — secondhand serenade

Gokudera took a swig of sake from his cup — he didn't know which one it was, heck,who even cared about how much he'd had? — and, setting it down, stared groggily at his companion.

Yamamoto, looking much more composed although just as inebriated, stared back at him serenely.

"Heyyy. I think I have to go," he slurred, getting up from his chair and slowly tottering towards what he believed was Yamamoto's front door. God, what time was it? Two in the morning?

As Gokudera reached out for the doorknob, Yamamoto's hand was on his arm in an instant, tugging gently, insistently.

"Gokudera. Stay with me. For a little longer.

Please?"

iv) tom's diner — suzanne vega

Coffee is the only thing that gets Gokudera up and alert in the morning. Today he chooses to have his daily cup in a small diner across the rundown apartment he lives in.

It's a rainy Monday morning, he grumbles to himself. I hate rain.

Opening a newspaper, he proceeds to scan the headlines while sipping his coffee, more out of a lack of anything better to do than actually being interested in the news.

From the corner of his eye, he can see a dark-haired man running through the rain, a book his only protection against the downpour.

The jingling of the diner bell signals the man's hasty entrance. Wiping his book dry with a relieved smile — only an idiot can still be so happy after getting soaked in cold rain, Gokudera thinks — he sits at an empty stall and orders a coffee, leaning back into his seat with a little exhale.

Gokudera's eyes never leave Yamamoto as the latter drinks his coffee silently, grateful for the warmth it brings his person.

And then their eyes meet.

Over cups of hot coffee and the sound of pattering rain on a gray Monday morning, Yamamoto looks at Gokudera and offers a warm smile.

Well, maybe the rain isn't that bad after all.

v) nothing compares to u — sinead o'connor

"Hey, what are your favorite things?" Yamamoto had asked cheerfully a few minutes ago, glancing at Gokudera who was walking beside him.

"What kind of dumb question is that?" Gokudera muttered, looking away annoyedly.

The dark-haired boy grinned. "Aw, come on, there has to be something you really like! Aside from Tsuna, I mean. We all know how much you like Tsuna, ahaha!"

Gokudera just shot him a glare. What, did Yamamoto — the guy who made an entire song whose lyrics were composed of things he liked and the point of which was basically just to tell everyone that he liked everything — actually expect him to answer that?

Yamamoto just smiled patiently, waiting.

"Fine. I like dark chocolate ice cream, I guess. Happy?" he replied. "Your turn, baka. What about you?" Hah, as if you'd actually come up with a different answer other than 'everything', baseball idiot.

"Oh, you know I love baseball to bits," Yamamoto replied with a grin,

(Gokudera rolled his eyes, taking a few strides ahead. Duh. Tell me something I don't already know.)

"But nothing compares to you."

The Italian stopped abruptly and whipped his head towards Yamamoto. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing, ahahahaha," the taller boy nonchalantly quipped with a noncommittal wave of the hand. His companion just stood there in silence for a few seconds, snorted, and continued walking.

But Yamamoto knew Gokudera had heard fully well.

Might be updated if I decide to do any more drabbles.

- HM