Disclaimers: Don't own KHR or its characters.

Warnings: Violence and abuse in this chapter.

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and the support! Means a lot to me that you take the time to review my work! ^_^ Mainly Goku-chan in this chapter, and a bit of Hiba ;)

And… I have a beta-reader now! She is 'The Shifter Simply Weird', and I'm so glad she is here to sort out all of my English crap! ;)

"I'm home," Gokudera muttered as he entered his house, though he knew that there would never be a proper reply. It was a rare occasion for his father to be sober enough to even register his presence at all.

Gokudera took off his shoes and socks before he walked through the living room, trying to be as silent as he could so that his father wouldn't notice him. But there was no such luck.

"Oi, Hayato, you're back already you ungrateful little fucker?" His dad, Gokudera Chisato, slurred from the sofa. His hand held an empty bottle of beer which matched with the numerous others lying around on the carpet. "What have you been up to today? Still wrecking people's lives? That's your thing isn't it? You ruin every single fucking thing."

"I was at school," Gokudera mumbled grimly, not facing his father.

"Oh? School?" Chisato bursted out laughing, "Like hell you were. How long is it gonna be this time before they kick you out, stupid shit? Fuck the bloody law forcing me to pay for you to learn – you realize that, brat? I work so fucking hard for them to teach you – as if it would ever do anything better for your retarded brain. Ungrateful shit…"

Huh, 'work' my ass. All I see is a fucking alcoholic leeching off mum's money. Gokudera thought bitterly as he made his way up the stairs.

"You can keep on running away, Hayato, but you know it's your fault you're worth nothing. You hear me, brat? You're fucking worthless…" Chisato called after him, and Gokudera just kept walking, trying to ignore his father's painful words. It wasn't until he had reached his room that Gokudera started breathing properly again, throwing himself onto the bed.

It hadn't always been like this in his family – if that's what you could even call it. There used to be his mum and Bianchi, Gokudera's half-sister. True, Gokudera Chisato had never been a brilliant dad, but he had loved and cared for his wife and children. After Bianchi's mother died, he married Hayato's mum and had Hayato – and he was still in good shape, working his job, being a good father for his family. But after his second wife died in a car accident, everything seemed to break apart. Chisato started failing in his career, earning less and less money before he eventually turned towards alcohol to solve his problems. But the more he drank, the worse it got.

Then, when Bianchi took off with her boyfriend it was the final straw. Chisato became an alcoholic and all the love he ever had for anything, but drinks, seemed to have died out altogether. His son's presence became a burden, a nuisance, and a painful reminder of the death of his second wife. Gokudera joining Dynamite didn't help – it only made Chisato hate his own child even more, for Bianchi's disapproved boyfriend was a former color gang member.

The older Gokudera grew, the more his home life became a suffering routine of torture. He spent more time at Lancia's house with Dynamite than at his own. For him, anywhere but home was an escape – an escape from his dad, from the mean, painful words, and from the guilt and the blame that he didn't deserve.

"Meow~," a soft purring sound came from beneath Gokudera's bed, and the silvernette bent down to pick up his cat, Uri. Gokudera had found Uri, starving in the streets, and had saved the little cat by taking it home, feeding it with whatever he could find in the kitchen. From then on, Uri had become his unofficial pet, frequently visiting Gokudera's bedroom, giving Gokudera some company in his lonely house. Of course, Chisato had no idea about the cat – he was too drunk to notice, even when Uri was freely prowling around the house.

"Hey, Uri… I didn't see you yesterday," Gokudera murmured as he smoothed the cat's fur, softly scratching its head. Uri purred pleasantly, curling itself comfortably on Gokudera's lap.

'…your personality. It reminds me of a cat, kinda.'

Tch. The idiot. How am I even like a cat?

"I'll try to find you something to eat when Dad's sleeping, kay?" Gokudera said, before he lifted Uri and put the cat aside so that he could unpack his school bag. Uri shook its tail, unhappy to be removed from Gokudera's lap, before walking over and curling itself on Gokudera's pillow instead.

Gokudera frowned, "Oi, don't sleep on my-"

BUZZ. BUZZ.

Gokudera was interrupted when his cell phone vibrated. He picked it up before he frowned when he saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. He picked up the line, "Who is this?"

[Hayato, it's me.]

Gokudera's eyes widened as he recognized the voice, "…Bianchi?"

[Yeah… it's been a while.]

"Yeah," Gokudera agreed. The last time Bianchi called was two months ago.

[You're… fine?]

"Managing," Gokudera mumbled, though he wasn't so sure.

[…how's dad?]

"Same as usual," Gokudera replied tiredly.

[Still drinking?]

"Duh."

[…does he still-]

"Yeah…" Gokudera quickly replied, lifting his hand to touch the wound on his lips. He had lied about it today at school. He wasn't punched by another color gang member – he would never be that careless.

Bianchi fell silent – her presence only confirmed by the sound of her breath. Then, she continued to speak, this time with a much softer voice.

[You know you could always come stay with me…]

Part of Gokudera wanted to – he really did. Even though Bianchi didn't come from the same mother, she was still his sister, and he did miss her. Anything would be better than living in his current position anyways. But the other part of him would hate being a burden to her, especially now that she had found her happiness.

"Nah," Gokudera replied, "I don't wanna see my sister being fucked by her boyfriend every day."

[Oh, shut up.]

Gokudera laughed lightly, "Ha, you know it's true. How's he doing by the way?"

[You mean Romeo?]

"Yeah, him –if you haven't already dumped him for a new guy."

[Hey, of course not. Romeo's fine, he's taking good care of me.]

"Good. Hope he's not spoiling you too much – you don't need any more of that crap."

[Heh, whatever.]

The two continued to have small conversations about this and that before a loud voice shouted in the background from Bianchi's side.

[…ah hell, I have to go now. My boss is yelling at me. I'll call again soon. Take care of yourself, 'kay? Bye!]

"…bye, Bianchi," Gokudera replied, but the line was already disconnected. Sighing, Gokudera flopped himself back onto the bed, slightly envying his sister. Bianchi was lucky to have escaped this hell hole he was trapped in – and from her voice he could tell that she was happy. Gokudera wondered whether he would ever find that happiness for himself.

BANG.

The loud hit on the door jumped Gokudera and he immediately sat upright again. Uri, shaken by the noise, hid itself beneath the bed.

"Oi," Chisato's slurred voice came through the door, "Open the door, brat."

Gokudera hesitated. The bedroom was his place of safety – his only place of peace in this house. He didn't want his father in this room.

BANG. BANG.

"I said open the fucking door!" Chisato yelled, fists banging against the wooden door. Gokudera had no choice. He made sure Uri was well hidden before he reluctantly unlocked the door.

SLAM.

The door was pushed open almost immediately before Chisato staggered his way through. His entire body stank of smoke and beer.

"What do you want?" Gokudera mumbled, not looking at his dad.

"You speak to your father like that, you little shit?" Chisato spat, before he narrowed his eyes at the cell phone in Gokudera's hand. "Who was on the phone just now?"

"My friend," Gokudera answered quickly, not meeting his eyes.

"Heh, as if anyone would want to be friends with a worthless piece of shit like you, Hayato," Chisato chuckled, before his tone became serious once again, "…I heard you call your sister's name."

Gokudera swallowed. "You heard wrong."

"Oh, I don't think so, brat," Chisato moved closer to him, "How often had she been calling you?"

"That was the first time," Gokudera lied.

"Liar," Chisato immediately grabbed Gokudera's collar, "You ruined my life, and now you're gonna fucking lie to me?"

Gokudera looked away, muttering under his breath, "…if it would stop you from destroying her life as well."

Chisato gripped his collar tighter, "What did you say?"

Gokudera remained silent. Chisato was angry, "Answer me!"

SLAM.

Gokudera flinched as he felt his father's fist hit his face right on the same spot he did yesterday, but he didn't let any sounds escape from his lips. He could feel the iron taste of blood on his tongue and he realized that his lips must have split again.

"Tell me where your sister is," Chisato mumbled, his grip still tight on Gokudera's collar.

"I don't fucking know," Gokudera honestly replied.

Chisato clenched his fists, "Fucking liar!"

SLAM.

Another punch. Another wound.

Gokudera was getting used to it.

Getting up off the floor and wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, Gokudera spoke, "I wouldn't tell you even if I knew. I won't let you drag her back into this shitty life."

THUMP.

"Ugh-" Gokudera couldn't stop the noise coming from his mouth when Chisato kicked him hard, right in the middle of his torso. But that didn't stop him from glaring up at his father with those emerald eyes. He hated his dad for hitting him, hated his dad for making his life a living hell, and he hated his dad for blaming him for everything that went wrong in both of their lives. But most of all, Gokudera hated how he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't even fight back.

"Arrogant bastard," Chisato spat, pointing the empty bottle at Gokudera, before he continued, "Next time you fucking complain, you'll get more than this. Worthless piece of shit."

CRASH.

The bottle was aimed directly at Gokudera , but due to Chisato's drunken state, he missed and the bottle hit the floor instead. However, the glass shards still bounced off the floor and cut Gokudera's flesh. Chisato saw, but he just turned away and walked off, slamming the door behind him.

Gokudera held on to his body, his hands cupping where it hurt the most. His lips were bleeding, his arm was bleeding and his stomach was throbbing painfully from where his father had kicked him. "Shit…" Gokudera mumbled, feeling the pain on his body, before all of a sudden he burst out, "Fuck you! Bloody asshole! It's not my fault you're a fucking loser! You're the one who ruined my fucking life! Damn it! Fuck!"

Gokudera violently threw a broken piece of glass at the door in anger before he exhaled harshly, abruptly standing up though one hand was still clutching on to his stomach. Quickly, Gokudera stuffed some clothes into a back pack before he opened the window and threw the bag outside. Looking at the bag land safely on the ground, Gokudera started climbing out of the window as well, struggling slightly with his body hurting.

"Meow~," Uri slowly crawled out from under the bed and looked up at Gokudera in confusion.

Gokudera looked at his cat, "I won't be here for a few days, 'kay? I'll leave the window open for you. Find your own food for now." He knew Uri wouldn't be able to understand half of what he said, but he still wanted to at least tell his cat before he left. Then, Gokudera slid out of his room through the window and balanced himself on the roof of the ground floor's window. As soon as he was steady, Gokudera swiftly jumped off onto the ground, landing softly. Bianchi was the one who taught him how to escape this way, and from experience, he had learnt how to do it without hurting himself.

Gokudera hurriedly picked up his back pack and then, he was off, though he didn't really know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to escape somewhere for a few days – be anywhere but here.

"Ushishi… what's this? Smoking Bomb's beaten up~."

Gokudera was just walking along the streets, trying to contact Lancia, when all of a sudden, Belphegor of Varia popped up from behind him, that Cheshire cat smile bright on his face – or rather, on half of his face, since the other half was hidden beneath his blonde bangs.

Great. The day just keeps getting better. Gokudera thought, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not in the mood, Bel – neither of our gangs are here. Just leave," Gokudera spoke tiredly.

"Ehh? But the prince wants to play~," Bel complained childishly, though the smile on his face was anything but innocent.

Gokudera ignored the blonde, continuing to walk. But Bel wasn't giving up easily, the self-renowned 'prince' cheerfully skipping after him. "Ne, ne, the prince wonders who managed to beat you up so badly… and here I thought I was the only one, ushishi~."

"None of your fucking business," Gokudera muttered, still continuously walking, wishing Bel would just leave him alone for once.

Bel jumped in front of the silvernette, blocking his path, his face split in a smile, "Aw~, you're no fun today, Dynamite. Come on~. The prince can't fight with you if you're not going to fight back~."

"Deal with it," Gokudera spoke coldly, sidestepping and starting to walk again. But this time, Bel caught his arm.

"Hey…" Bel smiled freakishly, leaning his head closer to Gokudera so that his lips were right against the silvernette's ears, brushing slightly on his skin, "…the prince will get his fun."

Gokudera frowned, annoyed, "I already told you I'm not-"

SLAM.

Before Gokudera could even finish his sentence, Belphegor quickly slammed the silvernette's head against the wall – not hard enough to break his skull, but strongly enough to knock him unconscious.

"Ushishi~. Now boss would definitely like it if the prince brought Smoking Bomb back… but the prince is too lazy for that… hm~…How about this then? The prince will just have his fun and leave~. What do you think, Smoking Bomb? Too bad my knives are still being sharpened, ne? Ushishishi…"

6.37 pm

"Are you sure you don't need an umbrella?"

"Ah, it's fine, ma'am, I'll ride home in no time. Thank you for ordering our sushi," Yamamoto smiled brightly at his customer before he bowed to her and left, tucking the money he received into his pocket. This was his last delivery he had to finish for his dad, and now he could finally go home.

It was raining, and as Yamamoto made his way back to where he had parked his dad's motorcycle, he allowed the rain to shower his raincoat. Different from most people, Yamamoto liked rain – the sound of cool water splashing on the different materials in tiny little droplets. It was both calming and relaxing at the same time.

But during the walk, Yamamoto stopped when he noticed someone lying face down in the alley, soaking in the rain. Curious and concerned, Yamamoto approached the person, wondering what was wrong. As he walked closer he could slowly make out the features – it was a male, a teenager, judging from his body, and-

…!

Yamamoto's eyes widened in shock.

The guy had silver hair.

And there weren't many people who had silver hair in Namimori.

"Gokudera…?" Yamamoto immediately rushed towards the body and flipped him over, and he was right, the guy was definitely Gokudera Hayato – though in a state that nobody would have expected.

Gokudera's lips looked even worse than at school today and his face was darkly bruised, his limbs were cut everywhere with something which looked very much like wire marks and glass cuts and he was bleeding all over – so much that it was frightening – his blood mixing with the rain. His body was blanched even paler than before and his skin was cold, those lips almost rid of any color. Yamamoto felt like he was looking at a corpse, the only difference being that Gokudera was breathing.

"Gokudera!" Yamamoto shook the petite body, and slowly, those green eyes opened, weakly looking up at him.

…Yamamoto?

…why is it that every time I faint, I wake up to see his face?

"Gokudera… I'm going to take you to the hospital, okay?" Yamamoto told him.

Hospital…?

Then… how is he going to pay?

Ah… they would probably call my-

Wait. No. NO.

Gokudera gripped on to Yamamoto's arm tightly, his eyes alarmed, before he mumbled weakly, "Don't… hospital…"

Yamamoto was confused, "Eh? But you-"

"No…" Gokudera murmured again, his grip on Yamamoto loosening as he felt his vision darken.

"…okay. Okay, no hospital. Just try to stay awake, alright?" Yamamoto whispered into his ear.

Gokudera didn't know how to respond anymore, he just kept listening to Yamamoto's panicked breathing, feeling something plastic being wrapped around him. Then, Gokudera felt his body being lifted from the pool of cold water in the ground, and all of a sudden he was surrounded by warmth. Leaning towards that warmth, he realized that it was Yamamoto's body when he heard the baseball player's heartbeat. But Gokudera could care less about the intimacy – right now, he was freezing, and he needed that warmth.

"Don't worry, Gokudera, you'll be okay," Yamamoto's soft voice was the last thing Gokudera heard before he lost consciousness once again.

Gokudera woke up in the middle of the night with a tremendous headache, feeling his entire body strained and uncomfortably heated, but as he kicked the blanket off himself he found that the air conditioning was also too cold. Curling himself into a ball and feeling his limbs, Gokudera found that they were covered in bandages. Then, everything came back to him.

Dad was being an asshole. Left the house. Met the psycho Bel. Then…

Ah. That's right. Yamamoto.

Gokudera looked around and finally realized that he was not in his room, he was wearing an unfamiliar set of clothing, and this was not his bed, but it was Yamamoto's. Nobody else would be so obsessed to have as many baseball related objects. The only question was – if he's sleeping on Yamamoto's bed, then where was Yamamoto?

"Ugh-" Gokudera groaned when the headache hit him once again, the pain throbbing in his skull.

"Nnh…" a murmur came from beside the bed, and Gokudera found the answer to his previous question. Yamamoto was lying beside the bed on a futon, and hearing Gokudera's voice, the baseball player had woken up; rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat himself upright. Yamamoto turned to look at Gokudera, and once he saw those green eyes wide open, looking back at him, he smiled, "Ah, Gokudera, you're awake."

Gokudera didn't know what to reply, so he just waited as Yamamoto shuffled closer to him before he gently rested the back of his hand on his forehead. "Whoa… that's a high fever. You feel any headaches right now?"

"Nnh," Gokudera mumbled in reply, nodding – appalled to find that even the slight action made his head throb even more.

"I'll go get a cool pack* for you – then after breakfast you can take some aspirin, okay?" Yamamoto said, softly brushing Gokudera's hair back from his face.

"…'kay," Gokudera whispered his agreement, and he watched Yamamoto as he took out a cool pack from the mini-fridge in the room. Yamamoto then gently rolled Gokudera back to lying on his back before he carefully laid the towel-wrapped cool pack on his forehead.

"Are you cold?" Yamamoto asked.

"Yeah…" Gokudera murmured his soft reply, and Yamamoto nodded before he pulled up the blanket and covered it over Gokudera's body. The baseball player then picked up the air conditioning remote and increased the temperature, coming back to kneel next to Gokudera afterwards.

"The cuts on your body aren't that deep, so you don't have to worry about them now. My dad and I already dealt with all of them. You did lose quite a lot of blood though, so you need to get some sleep – and if you wake up, just call me, I'll be right here," Yamamoto said reassuringly.

Gokudera stared at him, at those deep brown eyes before he mumbled, "…why are you so fucking nice to me?" It was a question that he always wanted to ask, ever since the first time he had met him on the streets. Gokudera knew he never showed his appreciation for Yamamoto's help, and he never tried to be friendly with him either. In fact, it was the opposite – he had been mean to the guy, rejecting all of the innocent friendship offered towards him. Hell, he'd even punched Yamamoto in the face. So why would he still treat him so kindly?

Yamamoto just smiled – and it was an expression so warm that it touched Gokudera's heart, though he would never admit it, not even to himself – and murmured, "I want to be friends."

'Heh, as if anyone would want to be friends with a worthless piece of shit like you, Hayato,'

"Tch," Gokudera looked back at the ceiling before he muttered, "…you're an idiot."

"Ahaha," Yamamoto chuckled, taking no offense, before he continued softly, "…maybe I am."

Gokudera exhaled tiredly, looking at Yamamoto's smile once more before he closed his eyes.

I still don't really get him, but maybe…

…maybe he's not as bad as I thought.

Gokudera was lying on the bed again, feeling better than before. After eating breakfast, taking some medicine and having another session of sleep, his headache was finally getting less intense, along with the pain of the injuries on his body – thanks to Yamamoto's help.

Yamamoto had decided to skip school today to look after him, and once again, Gokudera just could not believe how 'nice' this guy was. He couldn't understand why someone who was almost a complete stranger would look after him so caringly for the simple reason of wanting to be 'friends'.

What was the logic in that, anyways? Gokudera was one of the leaders of Dynamite, a color gang well-known for violence – that alone was enough to chase away anybody who preferred to live their lives peacefully. Furthermore, Gokudera had to admit, he wasn't one of the most socially friendly or compatible person either. Gokudera knew himself well. He knew how short-tempered, how much of an egoist and a hypocrite he was. Most of the words that escaped his lips were either insults or threats to shut others off from getting to know him. But with all that exposed, Yamamoto still wanted to be friends with him… it was just something Gokudera couldn't understand.

As Gokudera laid on the bed thinking, staring up at the ceiling as he did so, Yamamoto walked out of the bathroom, holding a large bucket of water and a small towel in his hands. Gokudera turned towards the baseball player, those emerald eyes observing him.

"Ah, you're awake again," Yamamoto commented, a smile bright on his face - a smile that Gokudera was slowly becoming accustomed to. The baseball player then saw Gokudera looking at the bucket curiously, so he explained, "You still have a fever. My dad says your body needs to cool down a bit, and you can't take a bath…"

Gokudera nodded, though he didn't really understand what Yamamoto was implying. So what is going to do with that bucket of water again?

…!

Yamamoto's hands pulling up his shirt immediately shock him out of his thoughts.

"Wait," Gokudera meant for the word to be louder, but his weakness allowed only a small croak to escape his lips, "What… are you doing?"

Yamamoto looked at Gokudera's alarmed eyes and posture before he laughed slightly, "Ahaha, don't worry, Gokudera. I'm just going to wipe you with some water to cool off your fever."

Gokudera blinked at him, taking in the information, before he slowly understood what Yamamoto was trying to do as he looked at the bucket of water once again.

Oh. I see.

"Fine," Gokudera mumbled weakly before he allowed Yamamoto to pull the shirt off from his body. But as Yamamoto started tugging on the loose trousers around his waist, Gokudera stiffened.

Yamamoto noticed the tensing body. Smiling, he comforted him, "It's okay, Gokudera. I changed your clothes once already when you got here."

Oh. Right. That was how I ended up wearing these clothes in the first place. Gokudera realized, but he found that the fact wasn't as reassuring as he thought it would be.

Yamamoto, silently enjoying the look on Gokudera's face, continued to take off those trousers before finally, Gokudera was left almost stark naked on the bed, the only exception being the short boxers he was wearing.

Yamamoto looked at Gokudera and once again took in just how pale and smooth his skin was – it was a pity to see all the scars, bruises and bandages taint the complexion. Yamamoto also noticed how slim that body actually was – that small waist and thin limbs. It was hard to believe how such a petite body could be so fiercely strong in fights.

Gokudera could feel Yamamoto's eyes on his body, and he felt slightly self-conscious. It had been a long time ever since he was consciously so physically exposed to someone – and the fact that he didn't know that 'someone' for long didn't help. Not to mention, that 'someone' being Yamamoto Takeshi who had called him 'pretty'…

Gokudera was appalled to find his face flushing – heating up for a reason other than the fever. He didn't need a mirror to figure how red his cheeks were blushing.

Shit… why am I even getting embarrassed by this?

I'm a guy. This idiot's a guy. Hell, we're both guys. It's not like I've never changed in front of other people before. I've changed in front of Spanner and Skull and even M.M. at Lancia's.

Right. There's no fucking reason why I should be-

"Nnh-" Gokudera shook slightly when the damp towel contacted with his skin – the temperature and the sudden touch of the water shocking him.

"Ah, sorry, did I surprise you?" Yamamoto murmured a soft apology.

"…whatever. Just do it quickly," Gokudera muttered, his face blushing even more.

"Hai, hai," Yamamoto smiled, fully aware of the blush on Gokudera's cheeks.

On the other hand, Gokudera felt like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him up right then and there. The embarrassment was just eating him up.

Fuck… there's a difference between just changing clothes in front of other people and lying here almost butt naked on his bed and letting him wipe my entire body.

Shit…

Gokudera bit his lips and closed his eyes as Yamamoto continued to wipe his body, from his shoulders to his arms to his chest then his stomach and down his legs, up his thighs and-

"Don't," Gokudera breathed faintly, weakly grabbing Yamamoto's hand which was about to move down to the insides of his thighs. That area was too… sensitive, too personal for Gokudera.

Yamamoto just smiled, easily lifting his hands from Gokudera's flesh, fully entertained by how much Gokudera was blushing and how that body reacted. "Okay, turn over then."

Gokudera did as he was told and rolled over onto his front, glad that he could finally hide his face from the baseball player. The process of wiping the back wasn't as embarrassing, and Gokudera eventually relaxed, allowing Yamamoto to gently wipe his skin.

During the session, Gokudera spoke up, "…a girl would be fucking lucky to date you, you know."

Yamamoto raised his eyebrows, "Eh? Why?"

"Tch. Come on," Gokudera mumbled, "You're too fucking nice. You hardly know me and you treat me this well. I can't even imagine how well you'll treat your girlfriend."

"Ahaha, I never thought about that," Yamamoto smiled.

"Shit. Seriously?" Gokudera asked in disbelief, lifting his head so that his chin is resting on the pillow, "You never thought about dating? What do you think about then? Baseball?"

Yamamoto laughed, "Hahaha… yeah, pretty much."

"Huh. You're a baseball idiot, alright," Gokudera mumbled, before he continued, "But really. You never liked anyone at all?"

Yamamoto fell silent with that, an image of a certain someone immediately surfacing in his mind. The towel on Gokudera's body stopped moving for a second.

Gokudera noticed the change right away, and he turned his head to look at Yamamoto's face before he smirked, "Hm? So you do like someone, eh?"

A slight blush formed on Yamamoto's face and he scratched his head shyly, and Gokudera was surprised to find that the baseball idiot looked rather cute like that. He kept pressing on, the smirk widening, "Come on, tell me. Is she cute?"

"…very," Yamamoto smiled at him, his dark brown eyes sparkling, and Gokudera felt something twinge deep inside.

"…huh, is that so," Gokudera mumbled, turning around to face the wall once again, unable to look at Yamamoto in the eyes any longer.

He looked so fucking happy just now. Even happier than normal, and that's ridiculous.

…damn, that girl really is lucky, huh.

"Ah-choo!" Hibari Kyouya sneezed sharply, causing Hibird, who had been resting on his head, to jump slightly.

Kusakabe, who had just entered the room, raised his eyebrows, "Kyou-san, are you catching a cold?"

Hibari shook his head silently before he went back to resting on the leather sofa, calmly crossing his arms and legs. "Why are you here?"

"A lot of students are absent without leave today. I brought you the list of names," Kusakabe replied, politely handing the piece of paper to Hibari.

"Hn," Hibari received the paper before he scanned the names.

De Tempesta Belphegor

Gokudera Hayato

Joshima Ken

Kakimoto Chikusa

Rokudo Mukuro

Yamamoto Takeshi

"They're all in the same year group," Hibari observed, "All three ex-Kokuyo students are missing – it is most likely Rokudo Mukuro led the other two. This is not the first time. I will report him to the headmaster. Belphegor and Gokudera are both involved in color gang warfare – their absences are to be expected. Send both of them warnings – though I doubt they would learn."

Hibari handed back the list, and Kusakabe bowed to him before he looked up and asked, "Kyou-san, what about Yamamoto Takeshi?"

Yamamoto Takeshi.

He was well known as the ace of the school's baseball team – but what caught Hibari's interest was his sense of speed, strength and accuracy. Hibari witnessed it during times when Yamamoto played baseball – how sharp each throw, catch and swing of the bat was. Hibari could see that Yamamoto, unlike most people, wasn't weak. He may be clueless on most occasions, but Hibari was certain the guy had a naturally good sense for fighting – he just didn't realize it. Yamamoto's good nature and carefree, optimistic lifestyle had clouded his potential from himself.

Then, Hibari thought about the dark chocolate brown eyes that looked at him in such a way that was beyond a senpai-kouhai relationship, and that proximity… those lips almost, almost stealing in on his own. The prefect felt a waver in his chest as his cheeks glowered with the slightest shade of pink.

No. Stop it. I can't allow myself to weaken in that way again.

But the more he tried, the more Hibari can't seem to erase that warm smile from his memory.

"…I will warn him personally."

"Are you sure you're okay? Your fever's gone, but I'm not sure -"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Gokudera-"

"Idiot. Stop worrying so much already," Gokudera sighed, rolling his eyes at Yamamoto who was still being overly concerned about his state.

After having lunch and sleeping some more, Gokudera's fever finally disappeared, and Gokudera felt as if he had never been sick – the headache and muscle strains completely gone. The only annoying pains left in his body were the bruises and cuts he received for his father and Bel – who he assumed must have cut him with wires.

Thus, Gokudera borrowed Yamamoto's phone and called Skull – another member of Dynamite – and told him to pick him up from Yamamoto's sushi restaurant. Yamamoto was not too certain about letting Gokudera leave after going through such a high fever, but Gokudera wouldn't hear it. The silvernette didn't want to be treated like a weak, sick, helpless person anymore – he hated feeling powerless and vulnerable, and he didn't like being dependant on others. So as soon as he felt well enough, Gokudera got up and changed into his own clothes he had brought in his bag, feeling more comfortable in his usual attire, prepared to leave.

Waiting in front of Yamamoto's house, the two of them stood there leaning against the wall, a good distance between them. This was the second time Yamamoto had seen Gokudera in private clothing, and similar to the first occasion, everything about the outfit screamed 'color gang member' - whether it was the numerous metal rings, the metal studded belt that hung around his waist, the screened pattern of skulls and guns on his black t-shirt, or the vivid red scarf he tied around his slim forearm. It rather worried Yamamoto to see Gokudera wear something that seemed to be asking for trouble. If Gokudera was in his usual, healthy state, Yamamoto would be confident that he can deal with little fights – but having seen the injuries on that thin body and how sick he was just a few hours before, Yamamoto couldn't help but be overly concerned. After all, Yamamoto already considered Gokudera as his friend.

Staring into the darkening afternoon streets of Namimori, Yamamoto could imagine a hundred ways Gokudera could be attacked, before he mentally beat himself up for thinking negatively.

A strong scent interrupted Yamamoto's paranoia, and as he turned towards the source of the smell, Yamamoto found that Gokudera was smoking, a cigarette caught between his thin lips, held easily with two fingers. Yamamoto stared.

Gokudera, feeling the stare, calmly blew the smoke out from his lips before he turned towards Yamamoto. "Stop staring like I'm committing fucking suicide, baseball idiot."

Yamamoto blinked, before he smiled sheepishly, "Haha, sorry. But in a way, you are sorta killing yourself."

"Huh," Gokudera took in another doze of smoke before he blew it out through his lips once again.

Yamamoto looked at the action, not knowing how he felt about it. He didn't like the idea of Gokudera damaging his lungs, but at the same time, smoking seemed to fit Gokudera almost flawlessly. The cigarette, once held in his hands, completed his rebellious style – and furthermore, Gokudera looked good when he smoked. That posture as he held the tobacco stick in his thin fingers, that calmed and relaxed expression, and those lips which seemed to hold the cigarette perfectly in between.

"I didn't know you smoked," Yamamoto said.

"Tch, no shit," Gokudera eyed him with those green eyes of his, "Considering we've only met for like, what, three fucking days? That's kinda normal."

"You do it often?" Yamamoto wanted to know.

"Yeah, every day," Gokudera replied easily, before he noticed the look on Yamamoto's face. "What? Don't look at me like that. Most of the people I know smoke a lot more than I do."

"It's still unhealthy," Yamamoto said, his face, for once, without a smile present.

"Are we really gonna discuss this?" Gokudera looked up at Yamamoto with a bored expression.

Yamamoto frowned – a new emotion being presented to Gokudera, "At least you shouldn't smoke when your body's still trying to recover."

"If you've forgotten, I'm in a bloody color gang. I fight almost daily, my body's recovering all the time. It's the same thing," Gokudera mumbled.

"No it's not," Yamamoto argued, "You just got really sick. You still look pale."

"I'm fine, alright? I'm not gonna collapse to the floor if I keep on smoking," Gokudera rolled his eyes.

Yamamoto wasn't going to give up, "But you shouldn't-"

"Tch. Look," Gokudera took the cigarette out from his lips, "It's my body, okay? I can fuck it up however I want. It's not like I'm gonna die right here and now."

Yamamoto frowned deeper, "But you're damaging your lungs and-"

"Ugh. Okay. Stop." Gokudera said, before he sighed, annoyed. "If I throw this away, will you shut up about it?"

Yamamoto didn't get the chance to reply to that when Gokudera dropped the cigarette to the floor before he squashed the flame out with his foot. Those emerald eyes looked back up at him, "There. Happy now? Fucking baseball idiot."

Yamamoto paused, before a smile re-emerged on his face and he leaned back against the wall once again, "Heh, for now I am."

Is this idiot planning on trying to make me quit smoking altogether? Gokudera thought incredulously. Why does it even matter to him anyways? What's it to him? I smoke, I die. I'm not poisoning his lungs as well.

…well, maybe a little if I smoke near him. But really, it's not his fucking problem.

At that point, a black motorbike sped into the street before it screeched to halt as it braked abruptly in front of Yamamoto's house, skidding slightly to the side. The owner was wearing a black leather rider outfit with dark purple lines, complete with matching gloves and a white and purple helmet. His body was entirely covered so it was hard to figure out what his skin color was. But even before seeing his face, Yamamoto knew the guy was here to pick up Gokudera – that red scarf tied loosely around his wrists identifying him as a member of Dynamite.

Then, the guy took off his helmet, shaking his head slightly once the helmet was off.

Whoa. And here I thought Gokudera looked like a gang member .Yamamoto thought, staring at him.

The rider, whose name Yamamoto assumed was 'Skull', had spiky, messy dark purple hair that stuck all over the place, framing his rather pale face. His eyes were heavily lined with black eyeliner, and right beneath his left eye was a small tattoo in the shape of a teardrop. His lips were also covered in dark lipstick, and his bottom lip was pierced with a lip ring that was connected to his earring by a thin metal chain. Apart from that, his face had white bandages stuck on different places, here and there.

"Heh, you look even worse than I expected, senpai" Skull commented as soon as he saw Gokudera.

Wha- Yamamoto was shocked. Senpai? He's younger than Gokudera? So he's younger than me?

"Tch. Shut up," Gokudera mumbled, knocking Skull's head lightly with his fist before he mounted the bike.

"Fine, fine," Skull muttered, rolling his eyes, before he turned to look at Yamamoto, "I've never seen you before. Are you a new member?"

"Eh...?" Yamamoto was confused.

"He's not in Dynamite," Gokudera said quickly.

"Oh," Skull leaned his head to one side, "So what gang is he in then? An ally of Dynamite?"

"He's not in any fucking gang, you moron," Gokudera pushed Skull's head – so hard that it almost hit the bike's handle – before he continued, "Can't you tell?"

"Meh. And I really thought my instinct was right this time," Skull said, still eyeing Yamamoto, before he shrugged. "Oh well. Fuck it."

"Fucking dumbass. Let's go already," Gokudera ordered, harshly jabbing Skull's leg with his foot.

"Okay, okay, I get it senpai, there's no need to kick me," Skull muttered, pulling his helmet back on. Yamamoto noticed then that the dark purple pattern was actually a picture of an octopus.

As Skull restarted the engine, Gokudera head snapped towards Yamamoto as if he had forgotten something, those emerald eyes hesitating.

Yamamoto smiled, "I'll see you at school, ne?"

"Yeah…" Gokudera mumbled, looking down, his face still troubled over a subject unknown to Yamamoto.

Then, just as the motorbike was about to start moving, Gokudera looked up at the last moment before he quietly said, "…thanks."

"Hm?" Yamamoto looked at him.

Gokudera couldn't stand holding eye contact with him, so staring at the ground, he mumbled awkwardly, "For… taking care of me. And stuff."

Yamamoto, hearing that and seeing how hard it was for Gokudera to say it, smiled brightly. "Ahaha, you're welcome, Gokudera."

The motorbike sped off then, faster than any transport Yamamoto had seen in a long time, but not fast enough for him not to notice Gokudera's blushing cheeks as he hid his face on Skull's back – and Yamamoto chuckled lightly, finding Gokudera's embarrassment in such normal matters absolutely adorable.

I really want to get to know him better from now on…

Yamamoto thought with a smile.

A/N: Hehe, hope you enjoyed that! And reviews are absolute love! :D …some Varia coming up next chapter~ ;)

*A cool pack is a variation of an ice pack.