Author's Notes: Wow! I never thought that this ridiculous piece would garner any sort of attention, but it looks like I was wrong. xDD Thank you all for your support! This is maybe sorta I guess a continuation of Subtle, though...yeah. Most likely it'll be just as stupid. xD;; Please enjoy!
Luck
Simply put, living with Sasagawa Ryohei was hell.
Gokudera actually tried to not think about it, and honestly put effort into pretending that it wasn't true and that he was perfectly happy about it.
He really, really, did.
But after the fifteenth consecutive morning of rolling off the bed and landing on the ground with a loud THUMP because Ryohei had left him there alone for the sake of a four AM run, he realized that lying to himself wasn't going to get him anywhere.
Or a better way of waking up.
What was more depressing than being shoved aside like a one-night stand was the fact that every goddamn thing in the whole goddamn place smelled like…like…Gokudera scrunched his nose, trying to put a name to the stench that lingered on everything he ever owned and loved.
Endorphins. And Sunshine.
…well, whatever it was, it was fucking pissing him off.
It didn't get any better when Ryohei returned from his morning jog, fully pumped with confidence and testosterone bursts into the room like a one-man herd of wildebeests, slamming Gokudera into the opposite wall at the sheer force of the wind of the swinging door (and no, it wasn't that he had a feminine build and/or was clumsy, thanks for asking).
Ryohei took a moment to search the apartment for Gokudera before spotting the pathetic lump in front of him, knelt down to the crumpled form, clapped Gokudera on the back and laughed. Obnoxiously loud (as if there was any other way to describe the horrible sound). "Hey, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got BRUTALLY FUCKED. REPEATEDLY."
"…"
"Uh. Which is EXTREMELY SEXY. And-- IGUESSI'MGOINGTOGORUNNOW."
And laying prone on the floor as the door slams shut, Gokudera wonders (again for the thousandth time) if there really is goodness and integrity to be found on the journey of life. Followed by bitter laughter and the decision to spend the rest of day throwing stuff out the window at unsuspecting passerbys. Wouldn't do to break the habit.
--
But the absolute worst thing couldn't be compared to any of the inane bullshit that went on daily because at night, Gokudera would have horrible, terrible nightmares of being left alone on a cliff and crushed by a gigantic boulder. He could feel his throat constricting, his chest cracking under the weight, and the dread of utter doom and despair.
Only to wake up and discover that it all was very much real. It was actually even worse because the "boulder" was not only heavy, big, and stupid, but fucking clingy too. Gokudera attempts to wriggle out of Ryohei's death grip, only to be held on tighter and feeling his ribs bend inwards under the immense pressure, vision going hazy and no particularly memorable 'last words' in mind.
But even though it kind of sucked being almost crushed to death by your own boyfriend and how much easier it would be to simply kick Ryohei out or how ultimately satisfying it would be to see him with his face kissing asphalt, Gokudera simply waits until Ryohei loosens his hold on him (all without swatting at his head). And softly, very softly, he presses his lips against the man's neck, slip his arms around the waist and drifts off, feeling amazingly lucky; simply, astoundingly lucky.
--
Simply put, living with Gokudera Hayato was hell.
Wait, scratch that, Ryohei thought darkly, shoulders hunched and concentrating on the small-patch-of-something-on-the-wall past Gokudera's shoulder and attempting to tune out yet another one of Gokudera's bitching marathon, there are no words to describe this sort of ear rape.
Actually, it wouldn't have been all that bad if it wasn't for the fact that Gokudera had the uncanny ability to bitch about anything if he really put his mind to it, which included rather innocuous things like small children, pigeons, and space aliens.
"Who the fuck does she think she is, cutting me off like that; I wasn't the one going 140 over like a dumbass, motherfucking, cunty crack-whore bimbo…"
And housewives, apparently.
"Hey, man, my game's starting to the limit in two seconds, and…"
"And THEN this PIECE OF SHIT thinks he can take my goddamn place at the counter like he owns the goddamn place, fuck, and his stupid hairpiece, I thought I was going to have to rip the damn thing off and stuff it in his stupid mouth…."
"I can't hear anything besides your girly, pansy-ass bitching…"
"What was that?"
"No, no, go on, I'm listening."
--
But by far the worst thing about living with Mr. Anger Management was spending sleepless nights getting kicked, slapped, and punched by an unconscious Gokudera, who often mumbled rather sinister and creative curses under his breath ("and I'll rip out your eyes and put them in a blender, that's right, you disgusting shitass fuckmother bastard..."), which were actually quite terrifying as Ryohei put up with blow after blow to his stomach, trying to smile through it. But after the seventy-fourth time of being punched right below his rib cage, it was getting kind of painful.
But even if he tried to pull away, Gokudera would increase his murderous mutterings and grab Ryohei by the shoulders and placed himself right next to the man, being content for a few minutes before clawing and growling again. Ryohei stifled a pained groan, imagining that his face was going through uncontrollable spasms that looked like he was horribly constipated or something, and hoped to God that Gokudera didn't wake up and catch him in his anguish of experiencing unbelievable pain.
But even though it kinda blows that Gokudera's punches actually hurt or that he couldn't move to make the internal bleeding stop, and how it would be better if he simply got up and left and laugh in Gokudera's face while making his getaway, Ryohei simply waits until Gokudera calms down before wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders, landing a brief kiss on the bed of grey hair, and pulls Gokudera close before closing his eyes, wondering how he managed to be so lucky; so incredibly, wonderfully lucky.
End