He hadn't meant to come out like that. And now it's much worse than he anticipated. The Vongola family might have been understanding at the very beginning, but now it's much more complicated. [onesided 5927]
Wow. I'm a bit surprised I've gotten so many reviews. My updating is gonna be a bit more random from now, because I've got exams starting in a few weeks (strange how spread out they all are) and I have to do *some* revision.
Melissa_42: It was really nice to see your comments, and I'm writing a reply here so everyone can see this- I've told a couple of reviewers this, but for those who want to know, I'm currently thinking on putting a little 8059 into some later chapters. Not a lot of it, but I think it might prove useful to the plot.
"I think you should tell Reborn." The sentence came from nowhere, and Yamamoto looked serious.
"What?"
"He'll be able to give you some advice. He might just be a baby, but he knows pretty much everything!" Yamamoto could never supress his smile for long. It flashed back before Yamamoto could stop talking.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Ssh! Don't be so loud! We're in class!" Hayto looked suspiciously around him at the other students. They were milling around, eating lunch. Fairly noisily, too. It was a couple of days since their conversation in the sushi shop, and things had been going well. Until five seconds ago.
"Okay, I get it. Look, I know that you don't want anyone to know, but I really think Reborn can help you out."
"With what? I'm fine."
"Yeah. Sure." Yamamoto's tone was... weird. Hayato couldn't figure out exactly what Yamamoto meant. In anyone else, that would be...
"You're really bad at sarcasm." Yamamoto ignored this pathetic attempt at an insult.
"The point is, I think you need help. Remember what happened? You know, with my face?" Yamamoto gestured at the faded bruising.
"I thought you got over that." Hayato rolled his eyes. He still felt bad about that.
"I did! What I'm trying to say here is that you need to express yourself. Bottling everything up isn't good for you. It'll make you go bald." Yamamoto told his friend with utter conviction. Of course Yamamoto would believe in an old wives' tale like that.
"I have opened up. I've opened up to you, haven't I?"
Yamamoto shifted his weight slightly. There was a slight pink tinge to his ears.
"Wait. You don't mean...?" Hayato was horrified. Yamamoto nodded slightly, carefully inspecting a patch of wall to his right.
No way. Privately coming out of the closet was bad enough, but publicly? No. The rest of the Vongola will be after my blood.
There was another silence.
"I thought I'd made it clear to you. I can't." Hayato gritted his teeth. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"
"Noone in Italy has to know! It's just your Italian relatives, right? Just tell the other Guardians!"
"And have them tell the Tenth?"
"I'm certain they'll keep your secret. Or at least most of them will. I mean, I don't think that Lambo even knows what..." Yamamoto stopped. He sighed. "Look, just think about it. Promise me that."
Hayato nodded half-heartedly. His mind was made up. No way.
...
That night sucked. He'd headed straight home after school to think about everything, certain that he couldn't do what Yamamoto was asking him. And then his thoughts had wandered. From what his dad would do to him, Bianchi, and then his mother. He'd forced himself away from that train of thought, but it came back worse than ever when he was asleep.
Today had been perfect. It hadn't been anything special, just... being together. Sharing little kisses. Spending time, just the two of them. Now in the park, lying on green grass in the dying sunlight, Hayato stared at the sky. Something so simple as holding hands in the twilight was... well, nice. And best of all, nobody interrupted them. In fact, the others seemed happy.
And then he heard her.
"Hayato...? Hayato, where are you?"
He sat up.
"Mother?"
"Hayato...! It's your mother! Don't make me worry! Please..." The voice is slowly getting further away. Hayato is certain who it is, and tears his hand away from Tsuna. He stands, starts sprinting to where he heard the voice. Through trees and bushes- why is he in the woods- trying to find the source of the sobbing he now hears all around him.
"Hayato!"
Stumbling, dodging twigs and branches, the woodlands weren't this dead and shadowy a few seconds ago. He finally falls, and it doesn't hurt, but he can't get back up.
He lifts his head. She's there, tears dripping from her chin.
"Mother?"
"Who are you? Do you know where my baby is?" Horror floods thorugh him, like ice.
"Mother? Mother! It's me! Hayato!" He's desperate- she has to know it's him! She has to!
She regards him silently for a second.
"Do you know my son? Have you seen my baby boy?"
"What? Come on! Mama, it's Haya-chan! Remember? It's me!" He's crying now, and he's getting colder and colder and his tears are like ice.
"I don't know you. My son's nothing like you."
"What? Mama! You're not serious!"
"You are not my son. You're not my baby boy. Where is he? What have you done with him?"
"What?! Please, mama!" Hayato interrupts her. She's still talking though, getting more and more desperate.
"You're nothing like, him, Haya-chan isn't digsusting like you! He's not a disgrace! He's innocent!"
"Mama, do you know what you're saying?! I'm not--"
"He's not a useless, stupid faggot!"
He's too shocked to even breathe properly. Fuck. It's his mother. Oh God. No. No, she can't think that. She loves him. She loves him.
"You've got to choose." a voice says from behind him. Hayato turns to see him, the incredibly hot, older Tenth that appears in his dreams. His heart stops for a second. Then that mouth, those amazingly kissable lips open and that oh-so-velvet voice begins again.
"It's either her or me."
Hayato woke up, tangled in his sheets, cold sweat soaking him. The clock by his bed read 2:12 AM. Great.
Maybe he should just take tomorrow off. Yamamoto's words were killing him, and there was no way he could make a decision that would please his friend. How the hell could he face the guy? He'd always thought that emotional pain was a pathetic purple description from bad poets and melodramatic teenage girls. But he knew better now. This was agony.
...I've just realised I tend to switch tenses more than I thought. The next chapters will undergo a serious bout of checking so I don't end up posting stuff that doesn't make sense. I'm so used to writing in first person, present tense that any other writing is proving to be difficult....
So, your thoughts?
