Hayato was frozen, every fiber of his being holding its breath, as the maids moved further down the connecting hallway. He didn't want to move because he knew that the moment he did it would all be real and that was the last thing in the world he wanted. He felt his muscles start to shake and buck and fell to his knees, his head fell to the ground as he gripped his silver-blond hair.
A weak sob bubbled in the back of his throat and a shiver ran up his spine as he tried with every desperate ounce of his soul to turn back time, to unhear what he'd heard. He wanted his padre to come around the corner and sweep him into his arms as he hadn't in years. For his sorella to come take him to the spring in the middle of the rose garden to splash about. For his madre too look him in the eyes and say she loved him but even Hayato didn't know if he wanted that from the soft eyed woman he remembered or the distant one he'd lived with for eight years.
His breathing hitched and tears began to pour down his small face. It felt like something in his chest was torn and bleeding, a gaping wound where his semi-happy family had resided in his soul. Hayato hiccupped on a sob, not wanting to draw the attention of the staff, as he wrapped his arms around himself trying with a desperation unlike anything he'd ever felt to hold in all the angry sadness that roiled in his heart.
With a steel like effort he forced himself to his knees, his long hair covering his face as he sat there still as can be for all of a second. Then he was moving, on his feet and turning sharply back into the inhabited portions of the manor in a heartbeat. Hayato was leaving; he could never stay under the same roof as the man who'd lied to him all his life again. He just had to make his escape without arousing his padre's attention, he was sure the man would never let him go.
~0~
Hayato sat curled against the wall of an abandoned building in the poorer district of Roma. It was a dark fall night and the chill seemed to seep relentlessly into the tatters of his once fine clothes. The nine year old boy shifted slightly, curling into himself trying to retain body heat. It had been a hard day of scavenging for food and coins on the outskirts of the city and it looked to be a long night. He had been on the streets for a year and some days, when food was scarce and the cold nights were long, Hayato regretted running away from his padre's house.
Hayato pushed his dirty silver-blond hair from his face angrily; thoughts of the pleasant house in the country where he had been raised in the lap of luxury left a bad taste in his mouth. He pulled his shirt closer to his body and cuddled nearer to the chill wall, it was very cold that night meaning that winter would be brutal. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive the winter; he'd been lucky the previous year to be taken in by one of the groups of street children but that arrangement had only lasted through spring when it got around that he was the brat of a rich Don.
It seemed like the other street gangs had heard the same thing because they too had shunned him and made his life on the streets a virtual hell. Hayato suspected that his padre had had something to do with the rumors in an attempt to force him to go home. It hadn't worked however, Hayato was determined to prove that he could survive without that man's help and he would die before he went crawling back.
A noise drew the silver-blond from his thoughts; it was footsteps on the sideroad he'd taken to find his sleeping quarters. He held his breath praying to god that it wasn't the polizia, he'd heard plenty of horror stories from other street children. After a full minute the steps rounded the corner to his hideout and the green eyed boy saw the figure of a man appear from the darkness. The man looked around the backstreet before his gaze landed on poor huddled Hayato.
"There you are." The man said as he took steps closer. Hayato for his part scrambled to his feet and started backing away from the shadowy man. It was obvious that he'd been looking for the boy and Hayato could only guess at the man's intentions, none of which were good for the silver-blond. "Now none of that child. If you are good I might just let you live."
"Go to hell." Hayato breathed into the chill air even as he continued to back away. Sadly the man's legs were much longer than the boy's and he had Hayato in a tight grip before the child could take more than a few shuffling steps back. Hayato fought against the hands holding him right up until he was slammed against the wall he'd been trying to sleep against. "Let go."
"No." The man said with a sick smile. He used his bigger body to hold the silver blond in place as his hands started to pull at the tattered clothing. Hayato struggled against the greater bulk and managed to break free, the man snarled and attempted to catch the smaller figure. Hayato ran away even as he dug under his shirt for the little lighter and the few sticks of dynamite he had managed to come across.
He looked up just in time to prevent himself from running into a wall but he managed to pull out his weapon. Hayato jumped sideways and the larger person with his greater momentum ran head first into the brick wall. He didn't paused however and light the stick he'd scavenged and with complete accuracy lobbed it at the man. With a sharp blast it exploded in the taller person's face. The figure screamed and dropped; as the smoke cleared Hayato was greeted by the horrible sight of the partially missing features and burned skin.
With bated breath he stepped closer and crouched next to the man. Hayato with a morbid curiosity reached out and touched the disfigured face, the man didn't move. Coldness swept over Hayato; he'd killed a person, sure the man had been trying to hurt him but he hadn't expected to kill him. The silver-blond fell to his knees and vomited what little was in his stomach right next to the dead man as tears started to pour down his face.
~0~
Days had passed since the Incident, as he liked to call it, and Hayato had found an abandoned building on the other side of the city to camp out in. It was night again and he was just settling down to sleep when footsteps inside his little building had him sitting up and reaching for his dynamite. He was not going to be attacked again, especially not so soon.
"Hayato." A voice whispered from the darkness. He was confused for a moment; for a second he was back at the manor and his sorella was coming to visit him in his room but a blast of cold air immediately brought him back to the present. His green eyes, adjusted to the darkness of his appropriated room, quickly spotted the bright pink hair of his sorella as she tried to pick her way towards him.
"Bianchi?" Hayato questioned, he was completely shocked to see her there in the dark dirty room. His belly turned as she got closer and he could see her pretty face. Bile welled up in his throat and he was forced to close his eyes so he didn't lose the little that he'd eaten that day.
"Oh Hayato." She breathed when she reached him, her breath smelled fresh and clean against his face. Bianchi gently cupped his face and turned it left and right in the darkness as if checking for something before letting out a small sigh. "Oh Hayato, I have come to bring you home."
"NO!" Hayato screamed as he wrenched himself from the preteens' hold. He refused to return to the manor, not after all he'd gone through on the streets. A shiver ran down his spine as the mutilated face of his attacker swam in front of his face. He turned away from his sorella, it didn't take a genius like him to figure out that her appearance so soon after him being attacked wasn't a coincidence.
"But fratello…" She started but Hayato covered his ears not wanting to hear her pleading. It was painful, he'd loved this girl with all his heart even after her good luck cookies had made him so sick but he didn't think he'd ever be able to look at her and not see the resemblance she had to her parents. A small sob left Bianchi and Hayato almost gave in, almost went back with her to the captive lie that was the house in the country.
"Goodbye Bianchi." He whispered, his voice tired but strong in conviction. He refused to ever go back to that man who was responsible for his madre's death. After several minutes the girl turned and left him. When he was sure he was alone he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself as sobs bubbled inside him. He fought and struggled to keep them inside and after a while he succeeded.
~0~
Ten year old Gokudera, having finally taken his madre's last name, stood over the body of the man he'd just murdered. He felt slightly numb because he hadn't had anything against the man except he'd pissed off a famiglia that had been willing to hire a child to do their dirty work. It was so different from that time he'd killed the man trying to rape him, foremost because Vicktor something or other hadn't fought back. He'd looked at Gokudera with sad broken eyes and just sat there as the boy had pulled out the gun he'd recently acquired.
It was over in a moment and had left Gokudera with an emptiness. He'd made his bones and his bed. He reached up and grasped the crucifix that he'd found until the sharp edges cut into his hand. For a minute or so the silver-blond whispered prayers over the deceased man, for both of them. A tear slipped from his eye as he gave up the last of the little boy he'd once been.
He turned and left the small shop, he was almost on autopilot as he walked through the neighborhood. Gokudera licked his lips as he returned to the building where the famiglia representative had met him. He knocked on the door and waited, after a moment it swung open and revealed the man who's hired him. Deep blue eyes blinked in surprise at the sight of him but ushered him into the darkly lit room.
"So is it done boy?" The man, Gio, asked impatiently.
"Yes." Gokudera said as he stared at the man's scarred face. Gio nodded and reached into his pocket to draw out a wad of lira. The boy felt nothing as he took the money and left the blue eyed man. He knew that Gio's famiglia would never take him in because he was a half breed and he wasn't about to throw himself at their mercies again.
~0~
The smoke from his cigarette danced around Gokudera's face as he waited. He'd picked up the habit not long after his first professional kill. The taste was still a little off putting but the act of smoking soothed something inside him. Ricardo, the street rat who'd gotten him hooked, walked out of the shadows, a smoke of his own hanging from his smirking lips.
The teen held up a small baggie of what Gokudera knew to be cocaina and he felt a stone drop in his stomach. He'd made it almost three years on the streets without doing drugs but from the look in the fifteen year old's dark brown eyes he'd most likely be trying it. How the street rat had been able to afford the drug was a mystery, one that Gokudera would probably never figure out.
"Hey Gokudera…" Ricardo purred as he crowded the smaller boy against a wall, breathing smoke against the pale faced Gokudera. The silver-blond nearly sneezed at the smoke coming off their combined cigarettes, but after a moment was able to shift his head out of the way. The teen reached up and plucked both smokes out of their mouths and tossed the burning butts behind him into a puddle. "Guess what I got?"
"Cocaina." The smaller person breathed and Ricardo nodded enthusiastically with a wild smile on his lips and his black hair dancing around his face. He grabbed Gokudera and began dragging him back to their shared home. As they walked Gokudera was reminded how much he owed the other for taking him in and teaching him how to truly be one with the streets, sadly the money he got from his jobs never seemed to truly please Ricardo. Ricardo was more interested in something else.
The full Italian had made his designs clear that one night when he'd kissed him after giving his first shotgun of tobacco. He was completely unabashed about the fact that he was attracted to Gokudera and touched him at every chance he got. The silver-blond had silently allowed the teen to get closer to what he wanted everyday because of his debt to the other. Sex was something that Gokudera had been forced to get use to while living on the streets but had managed through a Herculean effort to maintain his chastity and he was almost positive that he was going to get fucked that night by Ricardo.
They reached the small dilapidated house and slunk in under the broken door. When they reached the room where they shared Ricardo let go of Gokudera to scramble across the room to their bed and pulled out a small mirror from some hiding place. He sat on the bed and beckoned the preteen to sit next to him as he poured a small amount of powder on the mirror and dragged it into lines with a knife from his pocket. When everything was ready the black haired male pulled a disposable straw out and took a line. He shook his head about a few times after and handed the mirror to Gokudera.
The boy looked at the white powder for a moment as Ricardo fell backwards onto the bed with a pleased sigh. Gokudera licked his dry lips and after taking a deep breath placed the straw to the line and copied what his friend had done. It burned and slid warm down the back of his throat and he was floating. It was like the world was bright and new and his mind that had already ran at a speed higher than normal raced along with his heart. He gave a weak laugh as he turned his head to his mentor.
Ricardo was looking at him with blown brown eyes and a wicked smile.
~0~
It was weeks after that first time and Gokudera knew that Ricardo was using a lot more than he was because every time he got back to the rundown house the older boy was coked out. He'd smile brightly and run his hands down Gokudera's chest before drawing him into a deep kiss that always led to sex. It had hurt the first few times but Gokudera had slowly found the reason why so many men enjoyed anal sex. After that the teen would take his share of Gokudera's income and go out while the boy rested, more than likely to buy more cocaina.
As time passed the dark haired male began to use more and more until Gokudera began to notice signs of the drug in his lover's behavior when he wasn't using. He was more agitated and anxious with a wild temper that had left the younger bruised more than once. If he hadn't owed the other so much for taking him in he would have left but he did so he spent months watching Ricardo spiraling out of control.
~0~
Smoking Bomb Hayato, it was the name he'd gained through hard work and pack a day habit. He'd been practicing lighting his explosives with his cigarettes as a trick to save butane and matches but it had become a signature move. Ricardo had laughed himself sick when he'd heard, and wasn't that the first time in months that Gokudera had seen his lover smile like that.
The almost man had even gone and spent some of Gokudera's 'rent money' on a new lighter for him. It was a heavy metal one that opened and closed with a satisfying click, much better than his old beat up one that was on the verge of exploding whenever it was used. Truth be that Gokudera had loved the gift and had tried to initiate their fucking that night but Ricardo had been too drained to even think with his cock.
That night Gokudera had laid next to his brown eyed lover and cried silent tears. It was so painful to see Ricardo so unlike the teen he'd first known. He knew that the other was slowly killing himself but had no clue how the man was affording such a pricy drug. Oh he knew that the black haired teen acted as a prostitute occasionally but that didn't explain the sheer amount of cocaina that the other was doing on an ever increasing basis.
~0~
"No more!" Gokudera shouted as he wrenched the mirror from Ricardo's hold one day nearing his twelfth birthday. He'd just returned home from another job to find the other high as a kite and setting up more lines and he'd snapped. Blown brown eyes looked shocked and hurt even as they remained unfocused. He seemed so lost and small, he'd lost so much weight during his latest binge that it wasn't hard to hold him back as he scooped up the remaining drugs and disposed of them down the toilet.
"No, no, no, no…"Ricardo cried as he pawed at the basin, trying desperately to salvage the drug. Gokudera swallowed as he held the other back with ease and when the other had worn himself out he carried Ricardo back into their bedroom. He dropped the two of them onto the bed and just held the other boy, rocking back forth trying to soothe the sobbing man. It was going to be hard but the silver-blond would see his lover back to health.
~0~
Gokudera refused to leave the dilapidated house for days, laying in bed with Ricardo as he went through the withdraws. He held on tight through the anger and anxiety, braved the depression and hallucinations until finally one day those brown eyes had been clear. The older boy had woken with an almost smile and Hayato had been overjoyed. They cleaned up the place and sat and talked, about silly stuff and good memories; maybe that should have been a clue.
Gokudera later didn't remember what the other had asked for that he'd gone to get, only that when he returned Ricardo was dead. Gokudera had opened the door and spotted the large figure laying limply on the bed and he'd known, even before he'd seen the parifinalia. He hadn't loved the other, or maybe he had, but his heart still broke a little at the sight of wide brown eyes and blood running from a pale nose.
He covered the body with their only sheet and had sat at the foot of the bed for a long while just breathing. He'd seen dead bodies before, killed more than his fair share of those, but seeing Ricardo like that made him a little frantic and he needed the time to sort out his thoughts. Gokudera licked his lips as he flicked his lighter open and closed against his knee, he'd gotten the lighter from Ricardo back when things were good, until finally he came to a decision.
Hayato Gokudera walked out the door with smoke on his heels. He didn't bother to warn any of their neighbors, they had probably been the ones to sell Ricardo the cocaina and so deserved to die. That was the night the silver-blond left Roma, with nothing but a few tokens, the clothes on his back and a pack of cigarettes. He traveled to the next city and began again but in the back of his mind was always the reminder that he'd failed.
~0~
For almost two year Gokudera traveled from city to province looking for a famiglia to take him in. However he quickly found his lack of success in Roma to be even worse in other places. Oh his name was more than a little popular but no one wanted him, half blood musician, in their famiglias and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. So to wipe away the taste of defeat from his tongue he drank, drank anything he could get his hands on, and smoked until he was at almost two packs a day.
He knew he was on the same downward spiral as Ricardo, and didn't that name hurt to think about, only there was no one praying for his recovery. Gokudera knew three concrete things; he'd never touch cocaina again, he'd never have someone like Ricardo again and that one day, all too soon, he'd die. Only he wanted to die by his own hand, to go out when he wanted and he'd probably have a big long party before he'd blow out his own brains.
~0~
Gokudera was in some slummy bar in a slummy town when a man approached with a cheesy smile. He deadpanned the man as he lifted his tumbler to his lips, the alcohol burning down his throat. They didn't speak but after a minute the teen followed the stranger up into a back room. The man's brown eyes drilled into the back of his head as he began stripping, throwing clothes across the room until he was bare naked.
"Such a pretty boy you are." The man whispered as he brushed dark blond hair from his face.
"Shut up." Gokudera sneered as he crossed his arms over his chest in anger. The man just chuckled and took steps closer, his much bigger frame crowding the other against a wall. The green eyed boy turned his face away when the man tried to kiss him but made no move against the hand that started to wander down his small chest to his aroused cock.
The hand stopped just before touching him, frozen there too afraid to cross that barrier and Gokudera pushed away. The man obviously was too 'straight' or holy to go through with the actual act. He sighed disappointedly as he started to dress again, the man behind him cleared his throat nervously as he straightened his cosack. Really the teen should have known that the priest would be too chicken to follow through.
"I am sorry." The priest said quietly as he took a seat on one of the boxes that littered the back room. Gokudera finished pulling his clothes on and sat across from the dark blond.
"So if you don't want to screw me then why did you call me here, Curato." He asked as he combed fingers through his own silver-blond hair. The priest shifted nervously and pressed his tongue to his upper lip before reaching into his cosack for an envelope. He handed the letter over with shaking hands and got up. He all but ran from the back room.
Gokudera huffed a laugh and leaned lazily back against another crate. It was truly funny, the poor fool of a priest had been so convinced of his own sin he'd almost had sex with the teen to prove it to himself. What was funner was that the same priest had handed him a job, he opened his eyes and pulled the letter out.
It was a simple assassination of a fairly nobody mafia man, one that Gokudera had had a few dealings with in the past. Emilio was a fat man with a chip on his shoulder and an interest in child flesh, making his death even easier and hopefully even pleasurable. He closed the letter and brought it to his lips. He kissed the paper before, with a flick of his wrist, he set the thing on fire. He watched it burn for a moment and just enjoyed the scent.
