He expected sharp glass to dig into his side, or maybe a stray piece of wire that wanted to make itself welcome in his fingernail. He knew that, logically, he should be relaxing his body for the crash of garbage below him but he couldn't help but tense up as it inevitable came closer. Surprisingly, he was not scared of missing the trash bin. Even from his current height he was able to tell that he wasn't going to miss. It was impossible for him to miss.
Part of the reason why we jump is because we have faith in ourselves . . .
Tightening his grip on the body next to him, Tsuna closed his eyes and forced his body to loosen while he landed on the garbage bags feet first. He grit his teeth and silently prayed and hoped that Yamamoto had the good sense to land correctly.
. . . and have faith in our brothers.
The ground gave out beneath Tsuna as the garbage bounced him and Yamamoto slightly before accepting their combined weight altogether. Both boys were in a daze from the fall, Tsuna shaking himself out of it sooner than Yamamoto. The brunet let go of the baseball boy, opting instead to run a hand over the garbage bags underneath them. The unnaturally soft garbage bags. He poked a hole in the side, hoping to discover just what had saved them only to see . . .packing peanuts?
Manic laughter interrupted Tsuna's thought process, forcing him to look over at Yamamoto, the source of the noise. "Good thing that this dumpster was here . . .looks like the school ordered a new set of computers." Nodding, Tsuna looked down at the packing peanuts spilling out of the garbage bag. The same packing peanuts that had been put in the shipping boxes with the new computers. Tsuna should know, it was his morning class that was tasked with setting them up.
Still, the placement of the dumpster was awfully convenient. Tsuna looked over to where he just knew Reborn was watching him and scowled. He had a suspicion about why the dumpster was really here, but he would sooner curse the hitman out than voice his suspicions. "Hey . . .Tsuna?" Yamamoto started, sounding a little hesitant. It sounded strange to Tsuna, who had never heard the boy speak so nervously before, unless he was asked as sudden question in class. "Thanks a lot. If it weren't for you . . .I don't think my Old Man could have taken it. Losing his only family over something so stupid." The boy scratched his nose as a flush of pink reached his cheek and nose. "Did you . . .did you mean what you said?"
It took Tsuna awhile to realize what he was referring to (as adrenaline was interrupting his thought process). Not wanting to push the boy over the edge again, Tsuna took a deep breath, "If you want me to, I'll support you through anything Yamamoto." He reached forward to grip the edge of the dumpster, pulling himself up with ease that he didn't know he had while swinging himself over to jump out. He landed without any problem (it wasn't that high in the first place). "Anyway, come on, before Hibari gets here." The brunet checked his pockets to ensure that he had his wallet, yup, still there.
Yamamoto didn't have nearly as much ease coming out of the dumpster, his legs still shaky from the fall, causing him to trip onto his knees as he came out. "Eh?" His questioning voice echoed in Tsuna's ears as the baseball boy pulled himself up. "Why would we need to worry about Hibari? Also, what about class?"
The brunet helped Yamamoto get steady before going into an explanation. "Well, first we damaged his precious Namimori." He said, pointing up to the dangling piece of fence that they had inadvertently broke. "Secondly, I don't think you're in any condition to go to class as well as a beating and quite frankly I didn't even want to be here today. So, I'm taking you home and buying some sushi while I'm there." A thoughtful expression reached Tsuna's face before he took out his wallet and examined the contents. "On the other hand, I think some ramen might be better for my allowance."
Yawning loudly, Tsuna entered the ramen shop with Yamamoto in tow. The baseball boy looked utterly confused as to why he was here. The brunet patted him on the back in reassurance before gesturing to two stools in the corner. The dark-haired boy was grateful for the seat, his body still shaking from the events that happened earlier today. Tsuna ordered for them, handing a pair of chopsticks over to Yamamoto while they both waited.
"I thought about it once, you know." Startled, as he didn't expect Tsuna to talk, Yamamoto looked over at the brunet. "Suicide." He clarified. "I thought about it all the time. Never went to the roof or put a gun to my head, but I thought about it." Tea was placed in front of them, letting Tsuna have a drink to soothe his throat before having to continue. "I read somewhere that all of us think about it at one point of another. That we all have low points in our life where it doesn't seem to get better. Some of us just kinda take it too far, you know?"
Yamamoto looked a little disturbed at the thought and a little mad that Tsuna would bring it up or even think about it. Even still, he sipped his tea and waited. Tsuna had offered him something that he would probably never find anywhere else in his life, the least he could do was listen to the boy's plight.
"Point is, everyone has bad points in their life. You can't measure pain, it comes in all forms. So don't you dare apologize for being depressed or wanting to kill yourself over your baseball. It's not 'stupid' and, Yamamoto, I think your father is more concerned with your health and safety than anything else so he shouldn't be too angry with you. Just try not to be angry with him." Said boy winced at the harsh words directed toward him. Regardless, he was impressed that Tsuna even remembered what he told him. Even the subtle remark about his sometimes overbearing father. Most of the subtle things he would tell his baseball 'friends' seemed to go over their heads and never be brought up. He was glad that somebody noticed.
At that moment, two steaming bowls of pork ramen were set in front of them, Tsuna digging in with fever. Yamamoto looked down at his own meal before starting on it at a much slower pace due to his arm. Pausing, the dark haired boy corrected his newly-found friend. "Takeshi." A questioning gaze met his, Tsuna's cheeks puffed full of noodles. "Call me Takeshi, I call you Tsuna don't I?"
He put down his chopsticks in favor of stretching out his good hand. Nervousness set in the baseball boy's stomach at the thought that maybe Tsuna didn't want to be his friend. But before the doubt could really set in, Tsuna smiled slightly before placing down his own utensils and gripping the offered hand. "Well met, Takeshi-kun."