Author's Note: Honey! I'm home~

Sorry for the extra lateness (reasons are listed below...). About forty dollars went into making this chapter,
because that's the cost of a external fan... damn cheap computers and there over heating.
I really did try to make it longer, but I just didn't like the way it transitioned,
so a trashed it and approached the chapter from a different angle.

Special thanks to...

Carmel Cappuccino and Lanie12777.

You guys are Awesome BETA's and have my undying gratitude!

The smell of alcohol permeated the room as Chanel No. 5 permeates the first floor of NYC's Macy's. The wine rack was almost completely depleted of it containers, whilst the liquor cabinet was at half its previous stock. The corpses of La Forra, IS and other upstanding names were scattered about the studio apartment in a careless, inhumane manner. It was a massacre.

What's more heinous was that a single person was responsible for this terrible crime.

The murderer, the one responsible for this cruel slaughter of these innocent liquid temptations, was stationed on the floor a little ways away from the wine rack. Long silvery-white bangs covered his eyes as he was about to end the suffering of yet another bottle of wine. But he didn't care. His eyes had long since glassed over in indifference. He had felt no more pity toward them than they felt toward him, he was sure. After all, it was their fault for standing there, shameless in their taunting, their teasing… just like the little voices mocking him for his sheer stupidity. Voices that repeated the same words and mimicked the same tones they had. But that didn't matter…

Those voices, much like all his feelings, inhibitions and hopefully his memories, would soon find themselves drowning in the sea of one-hundred-proof despair they made him turn to for comfort. 'Take that you little bastards!'

Gokudera was about to finish off his next victim, this time a stately bottle of Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia, when…

Knock-knock-knock.

The rapping on the door was none too quiet and enough to shake the occupant of the spacious studio flat out of his stupor. Now given that said occupant was just a little bit busy flushing out his voice of reason with the life force of red wines and hard liquors, he intended to ignore it, but after a good ten minutes….

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

And another ten minutes…

Knock-knock-knock-knock!

And another ten minutes…

Silence.

"Good…"

He leaned his head against the wine rack, taking a long deep breath. Opening eyes that he didn't realize were closed, he directed his attention to the light beckoning to the far right. It was his cell phone, which was placed on the piano. He was a well ways away from the device, and Hayato had every intention of keeping it that way. Green-gray eyes seethed at the device, as if it were the source of his mental anguish. As if those innocent flashing lights on the device were the reason he curled himself into a ball and rendered him incapable of choking out anything more than a sob that would rack his entire body.

…Perhaps he was on to something though…

He had long since silenced the phone. He didn't want the constant ringing inducing a temporary psychosis and make him blow the damn thing up with the available supplies in his apartment - not that it would be a first…

Is it sad that he has put more money into replacing phones than he has bills…?

The flashing screen on the phone signaled that once again, someone had left him a voice and/or text message - the same man that has been calling like clockwork for the past three hours, no doubt. Although the phone bore no fault on his current state it was definitely playing a part in making him feel worse. Couldn't the damn thing "conveniently" lose reception, damn it! The signal has dropped at less convenient times, so why not now. He let out an agitated sigh.

God, he fucking hated that man.

He hated, hated, hated him since the day they met, and he hated him more with each passing moment. There wasn't a single thing he could stand about the man right now, and it was his fault that Hayato felt like this.

"I wish that I could have this moment for life, for life, for life
Cause In this moment, I just feel so alive, alive, alive
I wish that I could have this moment for life, for life, for life-"

"Huh?" Gokudera said dumbly as his ring tone rang loudly.

A ring tone he designated to a single man…

Knock. Knock. Knock!

"Oh, for fuck's sake, really." Long, piano fingers ran an alcohol-warmed hand over his face sloppily. He would have reached over to silence his phone... but he just decided to say "Fuck it" and answer the door. He thought that his refusal to open the door would have made it obvious that he was in no mood to entertain company. Then again, he could have sworn he turned off his phone too - or was that the home phone. Well, whoever wanted to see Gokudera right now was being pretty persistent. At least he could curse this one out to their face.

'Sigh, let me get up.'

With a lack of coordination he thought himself incapable of possessing (he had always thought himself as graceful, if a bit abrasive), he struggled to pull himself to his feet. After all, it was a common known fact that alcohol, once consumed, had a profound effect on how gravity acted on one's body, sometimes doubling its force on objects. That was the only rational conclusion seeing as there was no way that Gokudera Hayato was drunk.

'Pfft!' Of course he wasn't drunk! That would imply that he allowed himself to be affected by the events of the last three days, and that was just about as likely as getting a paper cut from a tissue.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"I'm comin', dammit."

'Okay. Maybe I am just a little tipsy….'

Hauling himself to his feet using the edge of a black granite topped breakfast nook, he stumbled down towards the entrance. God, his body felt so freaking heavy but his head was so light. Gokudera's gait was lazy but purposeful, if not just for the sake of bitching at the idiot knocking on his door.

He wanted to scream, howl, claw at something - anything!

…he wanted to cry, but his parched throat couldn't produce anything more than sand-beaten rasps. His eyes have long since glassed over. The tears from the past long since dried, leaving his face stiff and hard to move, much like the rest of his body.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The silver-haired adult growled. Not bothering to check the door viewer (or undo the chain), he undid the lock and ripped open the door. The chain almost unhinged from the wall from the great force. Murder was in his eyes.

"WHAT!"

From the perspective of the viewer , Gokudera seemed to have more in common with a vicious, bloodthirsty monster than he did any human. And the seven-inch gap and a chain, quite literally at its breaking point, was the only barrier separating the poor visitor from the violent beast. The pissed off male was about to finish breaking that flimsy barrier and show how beast-like he felt right now. And then just as his eyes fell upon the person at the door… the dam that his body built up after so many years crested and cracked. Newfound tears came down in rivers over pale cheeks.

"Go-Gokudera!" Tsuna called out as Gokudera crumpled to the floor and broke down, the chain snapping at the shift in weight. "Gokudera! What's wrong? Gokudera!" With the barrier broke there was nothing keeping Tsuna from wrapping his arms around the trembling man and rocking him back and forth as he would one of his children… and as Gokudera had done for him so many years ago.

It was by god's grace that the liquor bottle had been removed from his hands. It was replaced with his favorite Chupacabra-shaped pillow - a souvenir Yoru got him the summer Mukuro, Yuuri, Tsuna and he went to Mexico. Tsuna always found it easy to make himself at home in Gokudera's apartment. Even though his personal tastes in furnishings leaned more to the homey and traditional, he didn't have a hard time appreciating Gokudera's more "contemporary" style. Then again, he had helped put the place together when his friend first moved in.

When coming from the hallway you could enter one of two rooms: the kitchen to the right or living room to the left (and a little ways down was the door to the bathroom), thanks to the open floor plan and half-wall dividing the two. The living room consisted of a red L-shaped couch that was placed against the half-wall, matching the red of the accent wall on the opposing side, where the entertainment system was placed against. To soften the effects of the strong red in color scheme Gokudera wanted to achieve, Tsuna suggested he painted the rest of the walls a soft vanilla color. Throwing in some gray and gold in the accent pillows and decorations for good measure, Gokudera was able to keep his furniture, all the while maintaining the seamless, minimalistic look he was going for.

The room was breathtaking, but Tsuna's favorite room was the kitchen .

The cabinets were all dark wood, clean cut square panels, and the walls were painted the same vanilla as the living room. Instead of red (like Gokudera originally intended), Tsuna talked Gokudera into using a deep brown on the high beams to complement the off-white granite countertops. It also brought together the colors of the wood used for the cabinets and island/ breakfast nook/wine rack. The uppermost cabinets had small lights that made their glass doors glow beautifully, displaying the silhouettes of the square dish set that alternated between black and white. Even the silver backsplash matched the cabinets' simple but elegant hardware. And instead of traditional hard wood or tile flooring, Gokudera went for a honey-hued bamboo floor that he used throughout the house.

Oh yes, it was quite easy to make himself at home here… In fact, he felt so at home that he felt no guilt in chastising Gokudera as if he were at home… and in Tsuna's mind, Gokudera was one of his children.

"Gokudera Hayato, what were you thinking!" Tsuna hissed. The brunette angrily marched to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of espresso each; partly to sober his friend up, and partly to keep himself calm. He had just dragged the clearly inebriated man to his couch. Gokudera was a complete mess! His eyes were glassy with tears he had shed, and his normally well (or at the very least decently) kept hair in complete disarray. If Tsuna was a betting man, he would say that Gokudera hadn't slept from the dark circles under his eyes.

And to top that off with all that alcohol….

'I should have come earlier…' Tsuna winced.

To think Mukuro wanted him to stay home when his friend was in this condition.

Once the espresso was finished, the machine gave a 'beep' and turned off. He prepared two cups: one with milk and sugar and the other black with sugar, and walked over to the other adult. The weight of that drinking he had done earlier must have gotten to him because the lights in the room were staring to bother him. He was trying desperately to shield himself from the rays, not knowing whether to cover his eyes or clutch his upset stomach.

"Oh that's just perfect…" Tsuna placed the cups on the coffee table and ran back into the kitchen. This time to get a garbage can to place it next to his head, dimming the lights.

"Juudaime~ee… Am I a bad person?" Gokudera whimpered. "Is that why god is punishing me…?"

"I really don't think that god is doing the punishing here," Tsuna said dryly. "And no, you're not a bad person… you're just teetering on that fine line between emotional drinker and raving alcoholic."

For some reason or another, people (even those that knew him) are rather shocked to discover he was a Catholic. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was a chain-clad, chain-smoking, pyromaniac, punk-rocker in high school that contributed to the idea of him spontaneously combusting at the sight of a church. Lord knew Hayato was most definitely not a conventional one. However, amongst the many bangles and bands that adorned his wrist was a rosary that he treasured more than life. Gokudera's mother put that same rosary on him the day he was born.

Interestingly enough, it was that same rosary that brought Gokudera and Tsuna together…

You see, they met in Tsuna's freshman year in the same high school. It all started when Tsuna (miraculously) stopped the sophomore from blowing up some senior's car, who had stolen his late mother's precious rosary. A very suicidal move on his part.

He had just been ready to light the fuse when Tsuna walked by and panicked.

Long story short: Tsuna struggled trying to get the match. Gokudera made a mistake and dropped the match, nearly blowing himself up. Somehow Tsuna fell over, accidentally putting the match out with his forehead and saving Gokudera's life.

Tsuna grew out his bangs to hide the burn smack-dab in the middle of his forehead (a new source of ridicule). Gokudera spent the rest of the year in a juvenile detention center and repeated his sophomore year… which meant he would be graduating a year late with Tsuna's class.

Now you would think that when he called Tsuna out that it would have been to kill Tsuna for thwarting his revenge…So imagine Tsuna's surprise when Gokudera got down on hands and knees, begging for forgiveness and practically worshiping Tsuna as his 'boss'.

From then on, Gokudera often referred to Tsuna as 'Juudaime' since they met during 10th grade.

"Oh my God, Juudaime, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" …Getting back to the now-wailing silveret.

"Shh! You're going to wake the neighbors if you keep this up!" The brunette hushed his babbling friend, waiting for him to sit up to pass him his cup. The smell of java filled the nose of the sniffling drinker. "Honestly, I don't know why you're apologizing when the only one hurt is your door chain." Tsuna handed him a wad of tissues from the box on the end table that Hayato accepted gratefully - buzzing the paper in appreciation. "I got your message a few hours ago and came as soon as I could. What happened?"

He froze. The sliver-haired adult opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out right away. Instead he felt a painful swell in his chest and found that words wouldn't come out.

Tsuna noticed. "I tried calling three different times but the line was busy… I won't find Shamal bleeding on your floor, right… because I still have those bins in the back, so there will be no space for a body," Tsuna joked… or half-joked… the other half was afraid he was right…

Gokudera's lips curled upward and he chuckled before shaking his head. "I wish he was bleeding on my floor… I kicked him out," he added rather calmly, without the usual growl and few curses. Instead, he took a nice, deep breath and a swig of his espresso. His breath evened out.

Tsuna gave a quizzical look - Shamal getting kick out was almost like a monthly ritual.

…But it was almost like Gokudera seemed to be controlling himself. He was letting his anger stew. Which meant he must be furious and intended to hold a grudge. Sure he's gotten pissed at Shamal - but Gokudera was usually more forward. He's more of the type to chew someone out and move on to the next topic before he would stop talking to or off a person altogether.

Now Tsuna will openly admit to failing math twice, but even he knew that Gokudera plus furious equaled a dead man. A very dead man…

'…Poor Shamal.'

The only other person Gokudera acted this way towards was…

'…Oh my…'

"Can I assume that it's related to your father then?" Tsuna asked. "When you called me earlier. It was about your father." Gokudera's eyes shot open .

Bingo…

Gokudera hesitated before sighing in defeat. "Well yes… that man is part of it. Along with Shamal that is…"The venom that coated the word made the brunette lower his mug to the coffee table cautiously. But there was something else in the older male's voice. It was a faint echo. Something he was hiding deep within himself, wrapped up and tucked away in a box. He placed it on a high, all but forgotten shelf, well out of the reach of others. Still, it echoed with a sort of tenderness; a hypnotic melody was able to lace its way into Gokudera's voice and eyes.

"What? Is he trying to make you go back to Italy?" Honey-hued eyes softened, almost nervous about inquiry. "And how did Shamal get involved? I'm getting confused here…" Tsuna asked, "You mentioned on the phone that you needed to ask something too. Just what exactly is going on? "

With a soft clank, Gokudera lowered his cup as well. Staring down at the remainder of the black liquid, he continued, "Well, yes but… no? Like I said it's complicated, Juudaime…"

"…How complicated?"

"I hope Mukuro pissed you off, 'cause it's a long story…" the silver-haired male said dryly.

"Don't worry. I want his balls as blue as the tint in his hair," Tsuna replied briefly.

"Great. I almost feel sorry for him." Hayato rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. "And sorry to you in advance…"

A few hours later, Tsuna left Gokudera's apartment sullen and unsure of what advice he should have given Gokudera.

…There's not much you could say to someone whose father - their lover's best friend and the man whom Hayato hated- is dying.

Author's Post-Note:

Well, my sweet honeys! It's been far too long. Please allow me to say now that life fucking kicks my ass bloody. The only things that keep me going these days are Foamy and June MANGA. Someone should just shoot me in the face.

First of all, my original pre-written draft for this chapter was permanently deleted by some cruel twist of fate, forcing me to rewrite the little fucker. Then, after the painful process of trying to re-capture that moment of perfect, sarcastic, douche-baggary at another's expense, distraction after distraction came about me in the form of an estranged little half-sister popping in and a dead-beat, good-for-nothing father who only knows how to beg my mother for cash after many years of abusing her in various ways. Oh and let's not forget my mother is wonderfully mentally unstable throughout this all. And that I have to take medications for that tumor-esque object in my head!

Accompany all of this with the sight of my report (which once housed a series of 90's and above) being streaked with 70's and below and I was just ready to buy a revolver and a plane ticket...

Whilst I was searching on eBay and Expedia for my desired items, I decided to check my Gmail before confirming my flight and signing away all inhibitions. (Because everyone checks their mail before these things…)

…And then I received I review.

… So I stopped… and I read it… and it was… pretty nice. Simple. Sweet. Short but thoughtful.

So I clicked on the reviews link on my stories and I read them all consecutively. And it made me think, "Maybe it's not all bad…". At the very least not bad enough to spend one thousand dollars to end up in a foreign prison…

Readers, all of your reviews, your favorites, alerts - They all make a difference.

With your feedback, I was able to put away my feelings of almost psychotic hatred for my sperm donor and finish my chapter… And without them, I would have killed a man in a third world, foreign country and have no way of touching a computer for an X amount of time… so review people.

Also I'm sorry for ranting... I just needed to let that bit out.