Hi hi~~

Ok. Just gotta say.. 60 reviews for two incredibly short chapters? I'm part extremely flattered and part OMG WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS?! I mean I thought I was pretty twisted writing this shit but YOU, YOU guys I did not see coming.

I only just noticed how high the review count was on this. Legit kind of upset that my more 'normal' (well as normal as my fics can be) get waaay less reviews compared tbh. Of course that makes you guys pretty amazing, weirdly amazing but still amazing.

Anyway,

Enjoy~~

Case 3

He never really understood what he had done to win over the attention of Yamamoto Takeshi. Actually the whole thing felt just like a rather shoddily done soap opera script where despite everything he did, he just couldn't seem to be worth anything to stop the ending. He wasn't worth anything. Why was this happening to him? He was nothing.

Yamamoto was popular and well-liked and Tsuna was, well Tsuna was not. He wasn't bullied anymore, but he didn't exactly have friends either, considering anyone before who had come too close usually met with an unfortunate case of poisoning.

That had been a year ago but the fear was still a fresh and bloody wound.

Anyway, one afternoon when the brunette was alone on clean up duty, much to his surprise he found the baseball player inviting himself to join him with that eerie, hollow smile on his face. Tsuna really didn't like that smile, it was like something painted on, plastic, like a clown. Yet it seemed only he could see it for what it was.

But Yamamoto had offered to help him with the tedious work and what harm would there be in accepting the offer? Gratefully he handed the raven haired boy a broom and they worked in companionable, comfortable silence. It was nice. Definitely an enjoyable afternoon.

It became a pattern. Whenever Tsuna had cleaning duty Yamamoto offered to help and they would just do their own thing before bidding farewell. He should have at least picked up on how strange it was for his classmates to have managed to consistently skip class duties every time they were grouped with Tsuna. He should have picked up that Yamamoto usually had his team practice near every afternoon yet he was always there in the classroom, supposedly free. He should have noticed something. Anything.

But again he was blinded by the fact someone, he didn't even care about popularity, he was just so desperate for someone, to give him that care and attention. Desperate and pathetic and alone. If Tsuna was going to be completely honest, looking back it was around this age he begun craving this 'honeymoon' phase in these interactions. That small, brief time that made him feel cosy and content. Before it started to turn for the worse.

And it always seemed to turn for the worse.

"Tsuna, do you like me?" It was really the first thing Yamamoto had ever said to him other than the obligatory, "Can I help?" question he'd always asked. Not wanting to turn down his one chance at actually getting a decent conversation going yet at the same time too painfully shy to get his mouth moving, the brunette just looked at the other coyly and nodded. He did like Yamamoto. Yamamoto was nice and helped him and while he didn't smile at Tsuna, Tsuna honestly didn't mind because that smile was so fake it hurt. There was something almost flattering about the fact that fakeness -for god knows what reason- wasn't directed at Tsuna.

He really should've clarified what 'like' had actually meant.

After that Yamamoto started… clinging. It wasn't immediate. The change was apparent but not so sudden it was alarming. Maybe that was why he hadn't caught on to it right away, Gokudera had shifted faces so fast it was like he had been two very different people but Yamamoto was subtle, slowly, quietly, repainting his being with colours only a shade darker than it was before. Darker. And darker. And darker.

What was once a maybe common school afternoon ritual evolved into interactions outside of the class. The baseball athlete inviting him to his place for something to eat, to finish that assignment they've both left out till the very last minute, that movie he'd been itching to show Tsuna when he'd mention it a few days ago. It seemed so normal. How could he have known?

He should have known. Since when did anything normal happen to him?

There were touches. Yamamoto was a very hands on person, but somehow it felt different than those casual pats on the back and friendly arm slinging Tsuna had seen him do to the others. Tanned skin always lingered on his own, each time it felt just a little longer, the heat uncomfortable and unnerving. But the brunette brushed it off, he wasn't used to much physical contact other than with his mother after all. He was being paranoid. He had to be. Yamamoto never did anything wrong. This time it was different. It had to be.

His mother always said third time was the charm.

Four months, it took four months of precious warm memories with the taller boy, before the other shoe dropped. Tsuna had just been walking alone in the halls of school as usual when someone called out to him softly.

"Tsuna-kun? Tsuna-kun come here."

He turned, honey brown fixating on Kyoko Sasagawa. Beautiful sweet, sweet girl who would always spare a smile for even him. Sometimes even a wave when no one could even look at him without being reminded of bloodied cats and vomit covered children. But right now there was no sugar smiles or wide waves, there was just a pretty girl beckoning him toward an empty classroom with a wariness that people only get once they found something to be scared of.

Tsuna's found his, twice over in fact, and yet he still wants to trust, wants to hope, wants to accept. He's weak but at the same time strong, in the worst kinds of ways.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, his words are soft and quiet because the girl looks on the verge of a panic attack. She shuts the door behind him and Tsuna can't help but stiffen when he notices there's others in the classroom. They're vaguely familiar, some are definitely from his class but that's where the recollection ends.

"We want you to stay away from Yamamoto." Someone says and it clicks for the brunette that most of these people are from the baseball club or at least part of the star athlete's posse. Then the words register and Tsuna could only shake his head confused and admittedly a little angry. He had a friend. He had normality. Why are they trying to take that away?

"Yamamoto's been different." Kyoko tried to explain.

"Different?" He asked and soon everyone was trying to add in things they've noticed about the baseballer.

"He's always skipping practice now."

"He barely hangs out with anyone but you." A girl accused.

"And when Yamamoto-san does he's not his usual cheery self." Someone else said nervously.

"He's rougher. Kind of scary sometimes."

"Plus he's always talking about you."

"Tsuna likes this. Tsuna hates mushrooms. Tsuna said this. Tsuna has the cutest stuffed lion that he hides in his closet. Tsuna's got the most interesting books."

The brunette can feel himself sweating ice at the last remarks. "Wait," he croaks, interrupting another fan girl's rant. "Yamamoto's never been to my house."

It's true. He's been so, so careful. They've only hung out at Yamamoto's place or around town. Tsuna was actually going to finally let the taller boy come over next week. He actually thought it would be okay. Actually thought this was different. That he could trust

There's a silence that settles of the children. It's so cold it dries the words in their throats and yet is so suffocatingly hot that sweat runs from their bodies as if to escape the implications of what has been revealed. Tsuna wants to scream and cry until his lungs just give out and collapse in a bloody mess. Because it's happening again.

Why is it happening again?

Once is an anomaly, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.

He does not want this to be a pattern. He does not want this again. This is madness and insanity and illness. This is obsession and fear and death. This is the smell of rotting flesh and the sound of fireworks.

This needs to stop.

Yamamoto surprisingly takes the rejection with a smile when Tsuna meekly stumbles through his explanation to why they shouldn't hang out anymore. The baseballer smiles and laughs and nods understandingly, it's hollow plastic in Tsuna's eyes of course but the point is he just leaves. He's surprised. Even normal people should have been upset about that, Tsuna is pretty sure he would have cried if the roles were reversed. He kind of wants to cry anyway.

They part ways and it's like the whole school heaves a relieved sigh that they've been holding in the whole time. Tsuna's back to being the shadow in the corner no one wants to notice and Yamamoto's back in the spotlight, smiling that painted on smile that charms them all. No one notices that with every passing minute under the harsh heat of the lights, the paint is slowly coming off. It's coming off and there's nothing to stop it now.

The stage has been set and the actors are in place. The drama is nearing the end. It's time to take the costumes and the make up and reveal the bloody monsters inside.

Monday morning the week after Namimori was greeted to six dead bodies. Broken bones, ugly blotches of bruised skin and a face unrecognisable from the pulpy mess it made. Their heads were caved in from a blunt object. They were from the baseball team according to their uniforms. They struggled and suffered according to the security camera. They were sacrifices according to Yamamoto.

Or at least… What was left of him.

The tall tanned body of the teen was crumpled on the ground outside, next to the only building with a rooftop access. His limbs splayed brokenly, twisted like a marionette that had been cruelly abused by a small child. Sawada Tsunayoshi lay there on top of him, miraculously with only an arm broken, a severely twisted ankle and a fractured skull. Yamamoto must've been the buffer between the boy and an untimely death.

Police found a written confession. He hadn't been the most intelligent student and all his delusions were easily found on a simple file on his laptop. They read all about the about god's the teen had worshipped, the ones who had gifted him with his skills in baseball and cursed him with the constant buzz of shallow adorations. About how he needed a sky to swallow him whole and accept him like how the baseball gods did, how he had become greedy soaking in the sky and neglected his duties to perform, failed, and once he saw his wrongs he had to rectify and appease the gods. In blood.

Namimori Middle School had to be shut down for a month to sort everything out and to.. refurnish.

TakeSushi shut down after that, the owner unable to deal with it all having to leave the town.

Tsuna stayed in a coma for two weeks. When he woke up, the brunette didn't talk for twice as long. He still refuses to talk about what had happened that night and morn. No one blamed him. What limited video they had, it was apparent the teen had been a witness to everything, every single swing, squelch and scream.

Yamamoto died instantly, with his clothes and skin stained red with blood that was not his, his dented baseball bat hidden in a locker and the most geniune smile on his lips.

At least someone could still smile after all of this.