Disclaimers: Don't own KHR or its characters.
Warnings: fluff, swearing. ;)
'The Shifter Simply Weird' my beta-reader, I know I'm sucky at updates, but THANK YOU for dealing with this writer~ ^_^ -cuddles-
On the bus, 7.02 am
"…and then the damn boss just had to pair the prince up with that frog! He says that our fighting styles match or something. Che. Match, my ass! Nobody's skills can match up to the prince's! Especially not that damn frog!"
"Ahaha, maa maa, I guess you could always swap partners with someone, right?"
"Tch. The prince wouldn't be complaining so much if that was the case. But in Varia, if boss says something, it's permanent – unless he changes his mind himself."
"Ah. I see, I see…then what about your old partner?"
"Mammon's coupled with Luss. She's pissed, big time. Ushishi~. Maybe that's one good thing about this new pairing. The prince is very amused by that couple," Bel smiled widely, the corner of his lips stretching almost from one side of his face to the other.
Yamamoto, sitting next to Bel, smiled sheepishly – just laughing, nodding, and going with whatever Bel said. After all, arguing with Bel was probably not the best thing to do – especially when the prince was sitting right beside him, and he knew full well that Bel had no problem at all with slashing people when he had the desire to.
Yamamoto ended up sitting next to Bel because he was the last to come on the bus – delayed by talking to Hibari for too long – and the only empty seat left was beside Bel. Gokudera was sitting with Tsuna, Mukuro with his twin sister Chrome, and Ken with Chikusa. Thus, Yamamoto just smiled and sat himself comfortably next to Bel – who other people, naturally, avoided sitting with. Unlike others, the baseball player had no problem with the prince. He could literally socialize with almost anyone anyways, so sitting next to Bel was no big deal.
"…and that day, the prince was target practicing with his knives, and it hit Froggy right in the back! Ushishishi~. Too bad the damn frog was wearing protection, though…" Bel kept going on, snickering and grinning as he spouted his stories endlessly.
"Hahaha…" Yamamoto laughed, though a little uncertainly. He wasn't sure how someone being stabbed by a knife could be entertaining – but Bel found it funny, so once again, Yamamoto just went with the prince's flow.
Should he even be telling me this? This is mostly info about the Varia, isn't it? Yamamoto wondered as he continued to talk to Bel – listening only sometimes, other times just smiling and nodding for the sake of it.
From time to time, Yamamoto glanced at Gokudera who was sitting on the other side of the bus in the same row with Tsuna. The silvernette was looking out of the window, ears covered with large black skull headphones, cutting himself off from everyone else on the bus – Tsuna peacefully sleeping and drooling next to him.
Looking from Yamamoto's angle, the finger marks on Gokudera's neck could be seen even clearer now with Gokudera's head turned to the side – the marks so obvious to him that Yamamoto wondered why nobody else noticed it.
Or am I just thinking too much about the marks? Yamamoto pondered, before he shook his head. No. They're definitely finger marks. Which meant that someone must've…strangled him?
The thought sent chills down Yamamoto's spine and his heart felt as though it had been snatched to his ankles. It was a sick gut feeling, and Yamamoto didn't like it at all.
It was one thing for Gokudera to fight and get injuries. But it was another story altogether for Gokudera to be potentially killed.
"…so Froggy was like, 'you're a fake prince' – and the prince got mad, so he banged the frog's head on the table, ushishi~. Oh! And that day, Froggy-"
"Bel." Yamamoto suddenly turned towards Bel – who was still going on even though he knew Yamamoto wasn't listening – and looked at him with a serious expression.
Bel cocked his head to one side, intrigued by the rare emotion shown on Yamamoto's face, "Yes?"
"You know how you're in Varia and Gokudera's in Dynamite…" Yamamoto started.
"Eh? You mean Smoking Bomb?" Bel motioned towards the silvernette. Yamamoto nodded. Bel smiled, "Ushishi~, he's my official enemy. He and the prince usually fight each other when Varia and Dynamite battle or when we meet each other whilst wearing our colors."
"I see…" Yamamoto murmured thoughtfully, "…can you tell me how far these battles go?"
Bel's smile widened, "As far as it gets. Ushishishi~."
That doesn't sound very good. Yamamoto thought, frowning, before he continued to ask Bel, "And do you always fight with weapons?"
"Hmm~, well, the prince always uses knives and wires – but not everyone is as talented, of course, ushishi~" Bel snickered, before he continued, "Most of the time, we use weapons, but we do punch and kick. Anything to bring down the opponent really~."
Yamamoto nodded. So it could be that someone from another gang strangled him…
But do they really go that far? They would really try to kill the other person?
"Why are you asking the prince this anyways? You wanna join a gang?" Bel wanted to know, smiling widely.
"Me? Ahaha, no, that's not it," Yamamoto shook his head, laughing, "I'm just curious, that's all."
"Ushishi~, really? That's a shame. The prince wouldn't mind having you in Varia," Bel said, grinning for ear to ear, "We've seen you move when you play baseball. Squalo said that if you get some training with him you'd be really good~. And you're one of the better peasants, so the prince is fine with that~."
"Hahaha, thanks, Bel, but no," Yamamoto shook his head, smiling politely, "I'd rather just play baseball."
"Ushishishi~, too bad~," Bel snickered, before he moved on to another subject and started talking about a certain 'froggy' once again.
During this time Yamamoto thought back to the finger marks on Gokudera's neck – still unable to let go of the topic. Something just didn't sit right with the 'it's just another injury from gang warfare' explanation. The look in Gokudera's eyes, the tiredness…Yamamoto could sense that there was something more to it – something deeper than the silvernette was willing to admit.
If it's not about the color gangs, then who could have done that to Gokudera…? Someone that he wouldn't want us to know of as well…
Yamamoto sat there thinking, but he just didn't know enough about Gokudera to figure out the answer; the realization only increasing his interest in the silvernette.
On the bus, 7.32 am
'Nobody wants a life-ruining retard like you around.'
'You really are low down aren't you, Hayato?'
'…you're nothing. And it's your own damn fault.'
'That's what you get for ruining my life, asshole.'
The words kept repeating themselves over and over in Gokudera's head as if they were haunting him – the memory of his father clinging to him, not letting him forget for a moment what sort of hell he would have to face after his return from the expedition. Even with the music on at full volume through his headphones, it couldn't mute away the ringing voice of his father.
Gokudera's head was heavy from tension and lack of sleep, his muscles tight and worn out at the same time. His skull was throbbing, begging for some rest…and yet every time he was about to doze off, his father's voice would come smacking right at him, shocking him out of his dreams only to wake him up into a nightmare.
Damn. I really need a cigarette. Gokudera thought, rolling in his lips – missing the feeling of having a tobacco stick in between. He yearned for the relaxation from the smoke, the ability of it to calm him down.
Lifting his forehead from the window and quickly snapping his head side to side to hear the satisfying 'crack', Gokudera noticed someone at the corner of his eyes, and he couldn't help himself but glance at the person.
That guy who managed to make him put out a cigarette, the one who took care of him as a stranger and as a friend, the one who called him 'pretty', the one who had a smile that seemed to light up the entire world…Yamamoto Takeshi.
Yamamoto was smiling and chuckling beside Bel as the prince blabbered on about random nonsense, and even though Gokudera could tell Yamamoto was only half-listening to what Bel was saying, not once did that genuine smile disappear from the baseball player's face. He was just the type of guy who was unnecessarily 'nice' to everyone, doing favors, laughing at the lamest jokes, helping out with everything he could…not once did Gokudera witness Yamamoto hurting another person's feelings, both intentionally and unintentionally.
He was so different from everyone else Gokudera had ever known – with the tiny exception of Tsuna. But then again, Gokudera knew Tsuna from since childhood, and he was used to Tsuna's ways and how the boy acted. But Yamamoto… on Gokudera's canvas of black, blood red, dirty green, and purple, Yamamoto would be like a patch of bright, clean empty space – untouched by the paint, contrasting with everything surrounding it.
Gokudera had known this from since the beginning. Yamamoto was different from him – they lived in different worlds, and that was why Gokudera was shaken by the baseball player's entrance into his dark, violence-filled life.
But now, Gokudera had also learnt something else: Yamamoto's optimism was not exclusive. The guy spread his smile and laughter towards everyone – creating that bright, clean patch on everyone's canvas…and Gokudera wasn't sure how he felt about that.
It felt…strange, he supposed, to realize that something which he thought was 'his', actually belonged to 'everyone'. Not that he ever thought that Yamamoto was his own, but somehow, he always had that feeling that Yamamoto's attention and care was more focused on him than anyone else. Now understanding that this was not the case made Gokudera feel sort of…blank. Empty.
He had thought that he was different to Yamamoto – 'special', even. It was weird, because before, that thought didn't hold any importance to him. He didn't care what Yamamoto thought of him. He was annoyed, even, that the baseball player kept giving him excess attention. But now that he realized Yamamoto treated everybody that very same way…it was a bit of a shock. A wake up call.
Hibari Kyouya was the real deal – the one that was truly special to Yamamoto.
Not him.
I'm not as important as I thought I was…Gokudera wasn't saddened by the new understanding; instead, he felt hollow. Words from his father came back to him once again…
'…you're nothing. And it's your own damn fault.'
Gokudera wasn't sure whether his father was right. He knew those words were just spoken to bring him down, but…what if he was right?
The silvernette shook his head to rid himself of the thought. This situation should not be having any effect on him – he had lived alone all his life without getting special attention from anybody, and he could still live with it. Yes, of course he could. He's the Smoking Bomb, Gokudera freaking Hayato of Dynamite. He didn't care about what other people did and what they thought of him, no way. No. Fucking. Way.
…and yet, when the image of Yamamoto hugging Hibari came to his mind – with a smile much brighter than he ever saw, those eyes sparkling much more than usual…
Gokudera couldn't help but frown.
Okinawa, 1.03 pm
"Seriously, why am I grouped with you guys and not Tsuna?"
"Ahaha, it's already decided by Reborn-sensei, so we don't really have a choice, ne?"
"Tch. And now we have to go on a stupid treasure hunt in the middle of the fucking burning sunlight."
"Maa maa, if we complete it soon then we'll be out of the sun."
"Still sucks. What is the point of this shit anyways?"
"Kufufu…well, if Smoking Bomb would just stop complaining, then we could finally get this 'shit' over with. Wouldn't you agree, Chikusa?"
"Yes."
"Che," Gokudera rolled his eyes, kicking the sand as he walked, completely unhappy about the situation he was in.
After sorting out bedrooms, getting changed and having lunch, the sophomore students of Nami High were put into different groups to play treasure hunt on the beach – some groups mixed, and some groups with only boys or girls – the activity aiming to develop teamwork, friendship and strategy skills.
Gokudera was grouped with Yamamoto, Mukuro and Chikusa, and along the way, the silvernette complained non-stop about this and that: the weather, the pointlessness of the activity, the group members…pretty much everything 'wrong' that he could possibly find with the position he was in.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid…" the silvernette mumbled as he carried on kicking the sand to vent out his dissatisfactions.
Yamamoto observed Gokudera from the back. Ever since they got off the bus, the silvernette seemed to be constantly pissed off by something, especially when Yamamoto was around. Those emerald eyes wouldn't even look in his direction, let alone meet his own dark brown orbs – and Yamamoto kept on wondering what he could possibly had done.
Or maybe I'm just over thinking… Yamamoto thought, before he shook his head.
Ahaha. Nah…that doesn't really sound like what I would do.
He glanced at Gokudera once again. Maybe…I should try…just to make sure…
Catching up with Gokudera and resting his palms lightly on his small shoulders, Yamamoto spoke, "Ne, Gokudera-"
"Don't touch me, baseball idiot," Gokudera spat, almost immediately wrenching himself away from Yamamoto's hands, his eyebrows tied together in a deeper frown.
Yamamoto raised his hands and backed off, smiling sheepishly.
Yup. I definitely did something. The baseball player decided, remembering how before the trip he had wrapped his arm around Gokudera's shoulders and the silvernette didn't seem to mind.
"Kufufu…I do wonder what put you in such a bad mood, Smoking Bomb," Mukuro smirked, as though he already knew the answer to his question.
"Tch. This entire fucking thing is ridiculous," Gokudera muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Mukuro raised an eyebrow, "Oya? Is that the only reason?"
The smirk on Mukuro's face only annoyed Gokudera further, "Yes. Now shut up and keep walking."
Mukuro leaned his head to one side, "Hmm~, fine, I'll let it go. Though I do doubt this activity is the only cause." The mismatched-eyed rebel then turned towards Yamamoto, "Would you know something about the other causes, ace?"
"Why the hell would he know?" Gokudera cut in before Yamamoto could answer.
"Just wondering~," Mukuro smiled mysteriously before he sped up so that he walked in front of the group, Chikusa trailing closely behind.
Yamamoto looked at the dark blue hair from the back, wondering how Mukuro was able to tell. Man, he sure is sharp when he wants to be…
"Ah. Mukuro-sama, I think that's another clue," Chikusa spoke stoically as he pointed towards a tree some distance away, with a red card pinned to the trunk.
"Oh, that's right! Awesome, Chikusa!" Yamamoto smiled brightly, patting Chikusa firmly on the back. The megane just nodded, accepting the compliment.
"Kufufu~, you've always had sharp eyes. Alright then, Chikusa and I will go to read the clue, you two stay here," Mukuro spoke before he instantly walked off with Chikusa, allowing no room for argument.
"Tch. He does whatever the fuck he wants. Weirdo." Gokudera muttered, standing there watching the two ex-Kokuyo students walking away.
"Ahaha~, yup, that's Mukuro. He's always been like that really," Yamamoto smiled lightly, looking in the same direction.
Gokudera's eyes moved to glance at Yamamoto, at that smile, before he turned away, his frown deepening.
And you've probably always been overly nice to everyone…no wonder you're so popular.
Che. That attitude will definitely lead people into the wrong direction – making them feel all special and shit for just a moment…
Fucking baseball idiot, who the hell do you think-
"Maa, maa, Gokudera, it's unhealthy to frown so much," Yamamoto suddenly appeared in front of Gokudera, kneading the area between his eyebrows with his thumb.
Gokudera quickly swatted his hand away, "None of you business, idiot. Go away."
Yamamoto sighed softly, "Hey. If I did something wrong, can you tell me what it is?"
Gokudera looked up at him, frowning, "What?"
"You're pissed at me and I don't know why," Yamamoto stated, looking into those emerald eyes as though searching for an explanation.
Gokudera, unable to keep holding that intense eye contact, looked away, "I'm not-"
"Yes you are. You won't even look at me," Yamamoto spoke calmly, in contrast to Gokudera, who was tense with pressure.
"Che. Whatever, baseball moron," Gokudera muttered, before he started walking off, escaping from Yamamoto.
Unfortunately for him, the baseball player wasn't one that gave up that easily. Soon after, Yamamoto caught up with him, and Gokudera sped up, walking faster – but even so, Yamamoto was still right behind him. "Gokudera, tell me what I did," he was persistent.
"You didn't do anything. Stop following me," Gokudera muttered, accelerating his steps.
"Then why are you pissed at me?" Yamamoto wanted to know, now feeling that the issue was more serious than he thought. Gokudera just kept on walking, so he tried again, "Don't walk away like this, Gokudera."
"Don't fucking tell me what to do or not do, moron," Gokudera was getting increasingly annoyed. Why wouldn't he just fucking leave me alone? Go fuck his boyfriend or some shit.
Yamamoto was becoming frustrated too, "I don't like leaving things unsettled."
"That's your problem," Gokudera muttered.
Yamamoto frowned, "I just want to get to know you and-"
"Just shut up already!" Gokudera suddenly turned around and faced Yamamoto, glaring up at him, he continued, "I don't fucking care about what you want. You're not like me. You'll never fucking understand me. Someone like you…" Gokudera looked away, crossing his arms.
There it is again – that broken look. Yamamoto caught it in Gokudera's voice and eyes. The baseball player inhaled softly before he spoke, "Then tell me. Make me understand."
"Why the hell would you care?" Gokudera mumbled.
"I do care. We're friends," Yamamoto replied.
"Oh bullshit," Gokudera spat. "You're friends with everyone. You're just the type that needs to be liked by everyone. You don't fucking care – you just don't want your perfect little world to be spoiled by the fact that you can't befriend everyone."
Yamamoto was silent for a moment, before he murmured, "That might be true…"
Gokudera was surprised at that response, and he looked up at Yamamoto – only to see those dark chocolate eyes still looking straight at him. Once again, the silvernette turned away.
Yamamoto continued, "…but at least I'm not running away."
Gokudera glared at him, "The fuck are you trying to imply?"
Yamamoto was still calm as he spoke, "You keep running away, Gokudera. What are you so afraid of?"
"I'm not-" Gokudera started to walk away but Yamamoto gripped his wrist.
"There. See? You're running away," Yamamoto interrupted before Gokudera could argue.
Gokudera tried to yank his arm away, but Yamamoto's grip was firm.
Shit. Gokudera inwardly cursed. It was moments like these that the silvernette realized how strong Yamamoto really was when he wanted to be.
"Fuck this. Fine then. Speak. What the hell do you want to know?" Gokudera spat.
"Everything. About you. Why are you unhappy?" Yamamoto asked with a softer voice at the end, looking at Gokudera searchingly – his eyes filled with genuine concern.
Gokudera didn't like it. He wasn't used to being looked at with passionate eyes like that – and it annoyed him that something that had such an effect on him was used widely with everyone. Yamamoto had the ability to reach into him – making him want to pour everything out right then and there. Every time he looked into those eyes, he felt a though he was about to crumble. Release. Breakdown. Cry.
To hell was Gokudera going to do that – especially not in front of this baseball idiot.
"…none of your business," Gokudera muttered, hiding his face away from Yamamoto.
Yamamoto sighed. This was going nowhere. For some reason he did not understand, Gokudera was holding himself back – hiding himself, blocking it off with a large thick concrete wall. Yamamoto thought he had managed to crack through a little since he had met him, but it seemed as though ever since they arrived at Okinawa, that wall had just thickened once more.
However, he wasn't going to let that stop him now. Yamamoto was going to crack that wall.
He murmured softly, "…does it have something to do with the finger marks on your neck?"
-!
That definitely struck something – something deep, and extremely painful.
Gokudera's head snapped around to glare at Yamamoto, his face hot. How dare he-
Violently jerking himself away from Yamamoto, Gokudera was prepared to run – but Yamamoto was faster, managing to grab the silvernette's shirt before he could escape. Gokudera turned around to throw a punch at the baseball player, but Yamamoto just dodged the fist and grabbed his arm, locking it behind his back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-!
Gokudera was desperate to get away now, throwing himself forwards – kicking, punching, hitting, scrambling…doing whatever he could do to not face Yamamoto in that moment – forgetting all of his fighting techniques altogether. But Yamamoto was as stubborn as ever, as intent on not letting go as the silvernette was to escape. The baseball player took a few punches to his face, a few kicks to his body, but he still held on.
"Gokudera, calm down," Yamamoto tried to talk to the raging stray cat in his arms. The two of them were stumbling now with how much Gokudera was wriggling.
No use. Gokudera wasn't about to listen to anyone or anything. "Fuck you! Let go! Fucking stupid- ah!"
"Woah-!"
As Gokudera stepped backwards, he tripped on a large sandcastle, causing both he and Yamamoto to tumble over towards the ground.
It was silent, then – Gokudera lying sideways on the sand with Yamamoto's body on top of his own, their eyes finally locking.
And the two of them just laid there, staring at one another as though caught in a trance. Both of their minds blank as they looked at each other.
Connected.
Gokudera was the first to break eye contact, muttering quietly – calmer now, "Oi. Get off."
Yamamoto was snapped back to reality by the silvernette's voice – and he quickly got up and crouched beside Gokudera. "Ah- sorry. Are you okay?"
"Mm," Gokudera mumbled, sitting up and brushing off the sand from his arms and face.
Yamamoto rolled in his lips. "Gokudera…"
"Enough," Gokudera cut him off, looking away. "…I don't want to talk to you."
Yamamoto looked down, crestfallen.
The wall had just formed yet another layer.
Gokudera started to stand up then, before all of a sudden, he toppled back down. "Agh- shit…"
Yamamoto glanced up at the silvernette who was clutching his ankle. From experience as a sportsman, Yamamoto immediately recognized the awkward twist of the joint. He murmured, "I think you've twisted your ankle."
Gokudera didn't turn to look at him, hissing. "Shut up. I know I've twisted it. I'm not fucking retarded." The silvernette then tried to stand up once more, but stopped and sat down once again, cringing. "Fuck-!"
Yamamoto sighed, before he edged himself closer and lifted the injured ankle.
"The fuck are you doing? Go away, idiot," Gokudera tried to swat at Yamamoto's hand, but had to flinch when Yamamoto carefully moved his foot left and right, causing pain to throb harshly in his ankle.
"…stop that," Gokudera mumbled, gripping Yamamoto's arm.
Yamamoto looked up at him, "It looks pretty bad. Does it hurt a lot?"
"Duh. What do you think?" Gokudera muttered, before he hissed and tightened his grip on Yamamoto's arm when the baseball player moved his foot around once more. "Shit. Stop it already."
Yamamoto gently rested his palm on top of Gokudera's hand, causing those emerald eyes to widen, his heart skipping a beat.
"I'll take you to the nurse," Yamamoto said.
"Wha-? It's fine. I can go by myself," Gokudera quickly spoke – feeling his face warming for some unknown reason.
Yamamoto shook his head, "You can't even stand up by yourself. Stop being so stubborn."
"…che," Gokudera rolled in his lips, knowing he couldn't argue with that.
The baseball player then turned his back towards him. Gokudera stared at Yamamoto, confused, "…what?"
"Get on me," Yamamoto said.
"What…? No," Gokudera immediately replied, "No fucking way."
Yamamoto sighed, turning around to grab both of Gokudera's hands and forced him to wrap his arms around his wide shoulders.
"Wait. Wait!" Gokudera panicked, "You don't need to carry me. There are other ways…"
"I'm responsible for this," Yamamoto spoke, a serious tone underlying his voice. "Just let me take care of you."
Just let me take care of you.
"But it's… embarrassing," Gokudera muttered, his face glowing hot. Just the image of him – the Smoking Bomb of Dynamite – being carried on this idiot's back was more than he could handle.
Yamamoto almost wanted to chuckle at the silvernette's concern. "There's nobody around, it's fine."
The baseball player started tugging on his arms once more, and Gokudera kept on resisting. "Wait! I just… I can't…"
Yamamoto really did let out a chuckle this time, "Haha, it's fine, Gokudera. Really." He turned to give the silvernette a reassuring smile. "Now get on before Mukuro and Chikusa return, ne? I'm sure you don't want them witnessing this."
True. Gokudera thought – before he eventually, reluctantly, wrapped his arms securely around Yamamoto's neck. Yamamoto then grabbed hold of both Gokudera's slim legs and pulled them around his waist before he stood up, lifting Gokudera with him as he started to walk.
Gokudera immediately felt himself blushing furiously. Shit. How much more embarrassing could this get? He hid his face behind Yamamoto's neck – before realizing that that wasn't such a good option either. He was now fully aware of how close their bodies were in this position, body pressed against body, feeling Yamamoto's warmth. It was probably the most intimate Gokudera had been with someone in years.
And damn, it was making him nervous.
Especially with this baseball idiot…
Wait. Gokudera paused. Wait… what?
Why does it matter more if it's him?
Gokudera shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. Though, deep down within, he knew why it mattered more that it was Yamamoto.
…trouble.
"Gokudera…" Yamamoto's soft voice brought Gokudera back to reality.
"Ah- hm? What?" Gokudera leaned his head over Yamamoto's shoulder to look at him.
Yamamoto continued, "I know you don't want to talk about the marks…"
"Don't. Just don't," Gokudera almost immediately replied, his arms unconsciously tightening around Yamamoto.
Yamamoto noticed. "I won't. Don't worry, I won't anymore…but will you at least tell me why you were upset with me?"
Gokudera sighed. There was really no escape now. "Fine," he mumbled, before continuing, "…but first you have to answer my questions. Honestly."
"Sure," Yamamoto nodded.
Gokudera took in a deep breath, "…why are you so fucking persistent on getting to know me?"
Yamamoto's lips curled up into a smile, "Honestly?" Gokudera nodded, so Yamamoto continued, "…at first it was because you were pretty."
Gokudera couldn't help but kick Yamamoto with his hanging leg. "Ow, okay, okay, sorry~," Yamamoto knocked his head lightly against Gokudera's, "But now it's for a different reason."
Gokudera narrowed his eyes, "…which is?"
Yamamoto smiled, "You. I just want to know more about you."
"But…why?" Gokudera didn't understand.
Yamamoto turned to glance at Gokudera's face, "Do I really need a reason for wanting to know you?"
Gokudera rolled in his lips, wondering why he never thought of that fact. Yamamoto was simple. He didn't always have to think through or have a reason for everything – he just acted. "Not…necessarily," Gokudera replied, before he continued, "But then…aren't you just interested in everyone?"
Yamamoto chuckled, "Ahaha~ no, I just like being friendly to everyone. But I want to know you. Like, really know you, Gokudera," he smiled, "You're kinda special to me."
Gokudera's heart flipped.
Those words. Those words that he never thought he would hear from anyone.
"So," Yamamoto ran circles on Gokudera's legs with his thumbs, "…can you tell me why you were pissed now?"
Gokudera shook his head, still trying to take in those words just now. "Nah… doesn't matter – it was stupid."
"Hey, that's unfair. I answered your questions, Gokudera," Yamamoto argued, though he was still smiling.
Gokudera rolled in his lips. There was no way he would be able to tell Yamamoto the true reason he was pissed at him – especially because right now he just found out that it was a stupid reason as well. He rested his chin on Yamamoto's shoulders, "It doesn't matter. I'm not pissed anymore."
Yamamoto smiled, leaning his head on Gokudera's, "Haha, fine, fine. That's good enough for me."
They didn't say much after that, just observing the beach, seeing the waves wash up the shore and back down, Gokudera resting his body on Yamamoto's back – trusting him now – whilst Yamamoto felt Gokudera's breath on his neck, smelling the faint scent of cigarette from that silver hair.
Something about having their bodies connected in this way was… comforting. Natural – feeling good for both of them.
And as Yamamoto felt Gokudera leaning his head on the back of his neck, sighing, he was relieved and glad to realize that he had managed to remove quite an extraordinary amount of layers from that wall around Gokudera's heart.
A/N: Aw, hell. I'm awful, aren't I? I seriously have bad time management skills. School doesn't help either with all of its sports events and competitions… and I'm sitting here typing with my legs as heavy as lead for running over a mile yesterday T^T
But if you're reading this, I thank you so much as a writer for still reading my fics even though I'm so crappy at updating on time. Seriously, thank you~! :D
And I know I don't reply, but it doesn't mean your reviews don't matter. It means a HECK LOAD to me, guys. So, please, review~! :D