Disclaimer & A/N: I own nothing, really. This story was inspired by a survey with one question: Where does Gokudera live? and the response I read was IDK A little cottage in the forest? Here is my exploration of the question.
Everything happened to Tsuna.
Somehow, each day brought the trio back to the Sawada residence. From Tsuna's front porch, Gokudera and Yamamoto went their separate ways home. They waved goodbye to Tsuna until they were out of his sights. As Yamamoto turned a corner, he felt the skies rumble angrily. The gray overcast above was tinged with specs of deep black. Foolish as the boy seemed to be, Yamamoto knew far better than to get caught in the rain.
Imagining a warm meal and comfortable night at home, he broke into a swift jog. As the spring wind and the scent of coming rain flowed through his black locks, it had just hit him.
As the three boys departed everyday, where did Gokudera go? It did not take much brainpower to realize that Tsuna would head to his mother and the children of terror at home. Yamamoto would happily return home to his father's smiling face and the aroma of delicious seafood.
For a moment, Yamamoto mentally kicked himself for not seeing it before. Everyday, Gokudera would disappear into the shadows of the evening with only short wisps of cigarette smoke for company. As the boy walked home under the overcast, he wondered just where Gokudera went for shelter each day...
Sheltered among the trees of Namimori park, there was a quaint cottage. Its wooden doors exuded a rustic feeling that went along with the smoke rising from the chimney. The smoke evaporated into the clearing of bright green trees. He saw Gokudera sit on the cottage's footsteps reading an abnormally thick novel. A browning leaf remained wedged in the middle as Gokudera's eyes floated over the book...
No, Yamamoto knew better than to assume the human bomb to live so closely to such flammable things...
There was an iron gate, charcoal-colored bars twisting shooting from the ground. Gokudera stood behind, closing it with a sharp clang. He zigzagged up the rusting metal staircase of a bricked apartment. The paint on the bricks was laced with swirls of graffiti, but the peeling chunks seemed to take care of it. The door of the apartment looked as weather beaten as the gate and staircase. As the boy turned the knob, he let out a sharp cry of pain. A deep copper nail protruded from the door handle and was now smudged with a streak of crimson blood. With a stream of curses, he entered the musty apartment and disappeared into obscure darkness...
Not quite, Yamamoto thought. Although he did come off as some kind of delinquent, he was no Longchamp.
The clouds above rumbled restlessly as Yamamoto stopped in his tracks. He stared down at the sidewalk, tiny droplets of slowly dissolving into the pavement. He whirled around and noticed he hadn't gone very far from where he had departed from several minutes ago. Without another thought, he broke into a dash back around.
Much to his surprise, it did not take him long to catch up to Gokudera. The delinquent leaned nonchalantly on a playground slide, eating what seemed to be the last piece of hot takoyaki. As he finished his meal, a few final sparks glimmered away from his cigarette butt which lay at the bottom of the empty container. Yamamoto continued to watch from a safe distance. Once and a while, the idea of Gokudera disappearing into the clearing of park trees came back to him.
Once he shook the idea away, Gokudera lifted his head up to the rainclouds above. In no time, they had released the waters within them. Thousands of droplets rushed to the ground with all their might. And with a heavy sigh, the boy turned around and walked away from the park.
Several feet behind, Yamamoto followed in the heavy rain. Also to his surprise, it did not take Gokudera long to get from the park to his residence. He followed a smooth, cobblestone pathway to a metal staircase. As if from Yamamoto's mind, Gokudera zigzagged up the bricked building. His hand plunged into his pockets and retrieved a small silver key. Within seconds, the door was opened and he disappeared into the darkness of the apartment.
For several moments, Yamamoto wondered whether he should follow his friend inside. It did seem rude, but even rudeness did not seem to dictate his curiosity. The boy left the shelter of a nearby tree and headed up the same metal staircase. He knocked lightly on Gokudera's door. Not a minute later, the door opened.
It was apparent Gokudera was to be wary of who he allowed into his living space. The door hadn't opened more than two inches. His gray locks were still soaked with rainwater, a towel draped over his shoulders.
"You," he barked. "What are you doing here?"
Once again, Yamamoto kicked himself for not having thought of something to say beforehand. "I," he started.
"How did you get here?" Gokudera asked suspiciously as the door slowly opened wider. Before Yamamoto had the chance to answer, a gust of night wind crossed.
"Forget it," Gokudera muttered. He pulled the door open. "You're letting the cold inside, you idiot."
Yamamoto excused himself and let himself inside. He sat on the sofa and examined his surroundings. In an instant, every one of his ideas dissolved. The apartment was... normal.
The living room was composed of a single sofa and a small table with several books on it. A single picture frame stood by the telephone although there was no picture in the frame. In the kitchen, there were no plates or utensils. There was only a rice cooker and several cans of tuna.
This was the place he called home.
The boys sat inches from each other in silence. The rain tapped on the clear glass window by the kitchen faucet. It might have been the calming rain or the warmth of the heating floorboards beneath them. Whatever it was, the boys felt a warmth from head to toe and fell into a deep slumber as the the rainstorm rumbled outside.
Almost nothing happened to Gokudera.