Firstly, I want to thank those that commented on the previous chapters!
I also want to apologize for taking this long with the chapter. Going back to Uni hit me in the face and I haven't had the motivation or strenght to write. This chapter will be a little shorter, but hopefully this means that the next one won't take as long.

Gokudera's morning did not become any better after realizing that they would be late for, or even miss, the first period. Having to forcibly kick his apartment door to get it to close enough for him to be able to even turn the key properly and then almost breaking the lock in the process did not help. Yamamoto waited patiently for him to stop slamming his foot against the door before he gently peeled his fingers from the key and guided him away from the lock. With a practiced push of his shoulder and a quick flick of his wrist, Yamamoto locked the door and handed the key to Gokudera.

Not impressed by the ease of which Yamamoto handled his misbehaving door, Gokudera scoffed and headed down the stairs. Bloody door. He probably should have gotten the lock switched back when it started acting up months ago and he would probably end up locking himself out of his apartment any day now.
"We're walking." He informed Yamamoto and stuck his hands deep into his pockets, fiddling with his lighter. "We're going to miss first period anyway." He offered, uneager to take the train unless necessary.

Taking the train was not exactly expensive, but Gokudera would much rather spend whatever he could save on more important things, like cigarettes and explosives. And food, like Yamamoto would so often remind him. Not that he did not eat, but Gokudera would be lying if he claimed to be eating anything more nutritious than cup noodles on the days that Yamamoto did not stay over. Not to mention that being able to go out with Tsuna and the others a few times each month, on its own, was worth the half hour walk in each direction.

At least they were going to make it to second period he told himself as he ran both hands through his hair, trying to calm himself. Missing one or two lectures was not that big of a deal and he was pretty sure the withering old man, whose monotone speech Gokudera was not exactly regretting passing up, was not taking attendance anyway. Yamamoto did not seem particularly bothered either. In fact, Gokudera noted as he glanced at the other youth, he had the audacity to actually seem pleased about the situation.
"What?" he barked out, immediately regretting his tone with the way Yamamoto watched him. It was that look he would have when he thought Gokudera was being too grouchy, which had admittedly been happening less and less over the years, but made him disturbingly self-reflective. "Stop that." He hastened his steps, but Yamamoto was already leaning in, wrapping one arm around him.
"I'm not doing anything Dera." Gokudera let himself be pulled into his grasp, too exhausted to even bother pretending.

Yamamoto was wrong he concluded. Even if he was not aware of it himself, though he probably was that sneaky bastard, just one of those looks could have Gokudera contemplating every life choice he had ever made.
"Yes you are." Gokudera croaked out. You're making me see things about myself that I'd rather not see. For a moment he was silent, eyes following the white trails of a plane painted across the sky. At times he would wish that Yamamoto was not so perceptive, that he was more like the stubborn epithet that Gokudera had so naively given him. After a while he cleared his throat and continued. "Don't worry so much, idiot."
"I'm not." Yamamoto rested his cheek against the top of his hair and Gokudera gave him a feeble shove before leaning back towards him. "I just don't like seeing you like that." Although Gokudera already knew that, it was not like he could do much about it. He let out a weary sigh.
"Like I said, don't worry so much. I'm fine." He briefly wondered which one of them he was trying to fool.

As they reached the street corner where they would usually part, Yamamoto's arm slipped off his shoulders and Gokudera took a few steps before he processed the movement. Shoes scraping against the asphalt, he stopped and turned around in confusion. Yamamoto was staring down the road with a thoughtful expression, one hand tugging at the shoulder strap of his bag.
"I promised Pops I'd help out with the shop today." He glanced at Gokudera and stepped closer. "I can still come see you later tonight?" Yamamoto asked, peering down at him with a hopeful look.
"I have work. If my head hasn't killed me before then." Gokudera grumbled, as his headache had showed no signs of subsiding, despite the painkillers he had chugged down with another cup of coffee before heading out.
"Oh, I forgot." Yamamoto seemingly deflated at his words, his shoulders sagging and his fingers tightening around his shoulder strap.
"You could always come over tomorrow." Gokudera offered with a shrug, trying to ignore the way his heart sped as the other practically lit up at his statement. "Idiot." He muttered. "You look ridiculous." With a quick glance around, he stepped forward and pressed their lips together. Before Yamamoto had any chance to react, he was heading briskly up the hill and threw his hand in the air as the other youth called his goodbyes.

When Gokudera stepped into his classroom he realized that he had severely misjudged Yamamoto's popularity. He had expected that there would be gossiping, sure, but having the entirety of the course mates gather in the center of the lecture hall to share their opinion was not in his calculations. Apparently Yamamoto opened his mouth and blabbered to anyone in his vicinity, because there was no one that did not seem to know him or had not at least talked to him.

For a moment he just stood in the door, too stunned to even move aside as other students brushed past him and went to join the crowd. How on earth was it possible? Despite knowing just how sociable Yamamoto was and how popular the baseball team was, Gokudera could not even begin to figure out how these people, these people who he had believed to be completely disinterested in trivial matters such as sports and others' personal lives, were so eager to know about this.

Deciding that standing there looking completely flabbergasted was only going to draw more attention to himself, Gokudera quietly retreated towards the back of the classroom. Without looking, he pulled out a notebook from his bag and pretended to skim through his notes.

Just like he had dreaded, it appeared that the others were indeed discussing the mystery of Yamamoto. The words blurred in front of him as Gokudera tried to distinguish what they were saying. How much did they know? Maybe Yamamoto's team mates had mentioned their encounter last night and what if people realized that they actually knew each other and someone started connecting the pieces and oh god… The world spun around him and Gokudera was not sure, but he thought he might have picked up his name and he was starting to breathe erratically.

He received some odd looks as the other students took their seats, probably wondering whether he needed some kind of exorcising with the way he was trembling and desperately breathing through his nose. Gokudera tried to ignore them and stared intensely at the professor, willing himself to listen, but all he could hear where the hushed whispers coming from around him, Yamamoto's name dancing on everyone's lips.

I'm thinking an alternative title to this could be "Gokudera Against the World" since everything (except for Yama ofc) seems to hate him xD