4: In the Tub
Title: A Monster in the Bathtub (explicit?)
Author: roxiezeke
Prompt: 4: In the Tub
Wordcount: 1611
***
The bath was half full. It was a little red because the gash in his side had opened up a tiny bit because one of the stitches popped. It didn't really matter though. Yamamoto lay in the bathtub, fully clothed, watching the faucet-face drip. When he was little he laughed and said it was snotting. He closed his amber eyes and knocked his head against the wall behind him.
Drip, drip, drip, drip.
Yamamoto opened one eye and watched the faucet-man. He was going to stain his shirt because he was bleeding. But in reality that didn't really matter. He could always buy a new one. Do something living people did on a daily basis. He could eat, drink, feel hot or cold, bathe, and change. He could do everything a dead person couldn't.
Did you know their names?
The lights flickered and Yamamoto made a face at the light. He then shook his head and looked back at the faucet-man. He blinked, slow and long. He could hear the phone ringing on the other side of the door. Loud and annoying. Maybe it was Tsuna or his dad. Or someone he knew but didn't know. He sniffed. He hadn't been locked up in his apartment for long. Not long at all.
They can't breath anymore. Or bleed.
Yamamoto looked over at the faucet-man with a "well duh" kind of look. He rubbed his stomach and leaned forward, trying to turn off the drip because it was really getting to him. The doorbell rang and Yamamoto didn't pay any attention to it.
The door bell is ringing.
Yamamoto mumbled something and leaned back, lounging in the half-full bathtub. He closed his eyes quickly and saw ghosts coming at him. He opened his eyes again and looked at the faucet-man, "I know," He said calmly, rubbing his stomach again and he felt another stitch pop.
He heard the door open. But again he didn't pay any attention. The fridge door was open, he knew, but there wasn't any food in it. The oven was on but nothing was cooking. There was a fan and his AC going full blast even if no one was there to enjoy it. The radio was crackling and his cell phone, which was on the table, he knew, was flipped open. A stop watch attached to the fridge was going. It read 2 days, 17 hours, 44 minutes, and 34, 35, 36 seconds. Yamamoto closed his eyes again, and this time the ghosts didn't attack.
But there was one thing. The bags under his eyes wouldn't go away because if he slept he knew that the ghosts would come back. There was no way around that fact and he wasn't stupid.
I wonder who it could be.
"The kid, probably. Tsuna maybe. My coach…" Yamamoto mused out loud, laughing a little even if there was nothing funny. He shifted, the red water lapping at his wet jeans and white t-shirt, "Who else could it be?"
Gokudera? Maybe. But you're most likely right.
"Yeah." Yamamoto mumbled, not answering as whoever was in his apartment knocked on the bathroom door. He looked at the light until he had blind spots then he looked back at the faucet-man, "Why would Gokudera even come?" The knocking stopped and Yamamoto still didn't pay attention to the door.
Who knows. He's a strange person.
Yamamoto laughed his same old good-natured laugh, even as whoever was on the other side started to pick the lock on the bathroom. His side was really getting to him and the water was getting to look like saturated water-colour more and more but Yamamoto didn't bother to notice. The door sprung open and Yamamoto was too busy smiling at the faucet-man to look to see who it was.
I was right.
The water blood moved like waves when Yamamoto lurched forward to spy at whoever was at the door. He saw Gokudera standing at the door, taking in the scene. Yamamoto smiled at him even as him wound smarted at him. "Gokudera," He greeted.
"Who were you talking to?" The Italian asked, pushing back the bath curtain, "Any why is every fucking appliance on in here?"
Yamamoto looked genuinely confused.
He's asking why. Just why.
"Because," Yamamoto started looking back at the faucet-man, "I need to live," He answered with a chuckle. He scratched the back of his head and leaned back over, trying to stop the drip.
Yamamoto saw Gokudera gritting his teeth in frustration. He looked at the faucet-man, where Yamamoto was looking and rubbed his forehead. He said something in Italian-
Natural assassin my ass.
and took off his shoes. Yamamoto was torn between watching the faucet-man and watching Gokudera. The silver-haired man took off his jacket and flipped off the lights, "Room for one more?" He asked, his voice betraying a smidgen of worry.
"Sure." Yamamoto said, moving to the side so Gokudera would have space.
I told you he's strange.
"I know, Yamamoto agreed with another chuckle, "He always has been."
Gokudera puffed out an indignant breath of air and ran his hand through his hair. He stepped into the red bathwater and sat down so his feet were by Yamamoto's waist and Yamamoto's feet were propped up on the tub rim next to Gokudera's head, "You're bleeding," Gokudera said offhandedly, looking at how red the water was getting. He then looked at Yamamoto's attire and sighed again, "Do I even want to know?"
"Know what?" Yamamoto asked, knocking his head against the wall again, he looked at the faucet-man, then back at the switched-off light. He moved his hand up and rubbed his face, getting the blood water on his cheek.
"Never mind," Gokudera mumbled.
So they sat in silence for a while. Yamamoto sometimes would speak, but it was never to Gokudera.
"You killed someone," Gokudera finally brought up, looking Yamamoto in the eyes. Gokudera's green and white t-shirt was shading red and his dark-wash jeans were really heavy with all the added water but he didn't bother getting out of the bath.
The pause was long and the dripping continued.
He spoke to you.
"Yeah," Yamamoto finally answered, "But I'm okay."
Gokudera nodded, "Yeah, I know," Gokudera looked out at the bathroom, then at the knobs beside his head. Gokudera rubbed Yamamoto's calf, watching to see if the baseball freak reacted any.
Yamamoto just smiled.
The bark of laughter was unexpected, coming from Gokudera at least, but Gokudera laughed, sharp and cold and yanked Yamamoto forward by the shirt collar, "You fucking homo, stop living in the past," He ground out, glaring into Yamamoto's eyes. So what you killed someone, "So what you killed someone, get over it!" Gokudera ordered, straddling Yamamoto's waist so he could get in the baseball freaks face even more, so he could be forefront instead of whatever the fuck was talking to him.
Yamamoto blinked up at Gokudera before stripping off his shirt and starting on the fly of his jeans. Gokudera was asking him what he was doing and his answer was simple: "Undressing." Next he started to work on Gokudera's clothing, stripping off the shirt and undoing the fly on Gokudera's pants; it was surprising to Yamamoto when Gokudera didn't swat away his hands.
He doesn't want to deny you.
"Why?" Yamamoto asked, as he held Gokudera close, making the not-so-much-of-a-teenager sit on his lap. He felt Gokudera bite his shoulder and something warmer splatter on his back.
Not sure. He's a strange person, remember?
Yamamoto blinked and started to laugh, even as he was fingering Gokudera's cock with fairly numb fingers. He nibbled on Gokudera's neck for a little while, before answering, "Yeah, I remember."
Then Gokudera slammed Yamamoto's head against the wall, the junction between index finger and thumb shoved between Yamamoto's teeth. Gokudera was seething and Yamamoto was positively confused. He tried to speak around the flesh in his mouth but Gokudera wouldn't let him, "Wake up!" Gokudera yelled, "Open your eyes! You've been cooped up in this fucking place for days! Do you know how many times we phoned and how many times you picked up but didn't say anything?" Gokudera shoved a knee painfully against Yamamoto's crotch, "Do you know how worried Tenth is?"
Yamamoto looked into Gokudera's glassy jade eyes then shrugged, he tried to lick his lips but wound up just licking Gokudera's hand.
"You can't stop living just because you stopped someone else from living," Gokudera said, putting his forehead against Yamamoto's forehead, "Alright?"
There was a moment of silence, even Yamamoto's hand stopped. Then it started back up and Gokudera let out a pained sigh and let his own hand start stroking Yamamoto's dick. Then Yamamoto said, "Yeah. To you, not the faucet-face." He rubbed his cheek against Gokudera's, getting the blood water he'd put there on Gokudera's cheek, "Yeah."
Gokudera made a sound at the back of his throat, a hissing growl type thing and he bowed his head. He sat like that, looking at the gash in Yamamoto's side before muttering, grudgingly, "The first is the hardest," He hated saying something so cliché, so corny, but it had to be said. It just had to be said. Yamamoto just nodded and put his chin on Gokudera's shoulder and closed his eyes, removing the faucet-face from view.
"Okay."
They didn't bother getting out of the bathtub. Gokudera stayed on Yamamoto's lap and Yamamoto kept his chin on Gokudera's shoulder and they both were jerking each other off just because, and it had to be the most relaxing thing Gokudera had done in 2 days, 18 hours, 16 minutes, and 34, 35, 36 seconds.
Author: roxiezeke
Prompt: 4: In the Tub
Wordcount: 1611
***
The bath was half full. It was a little red because the gash in his side had opened up a tiny bit because one of the stitches popped. It didn't really matter though. Yamamoto lay in the bathtub, fully clothed, watching the faucet-face drip. When he was little he laughed and said it was snotting. He closed his amber eyes and knocked his head against the wall behind him.
Drip, drip, drip, drip.
Yamamoto opened one eye and watched the faucet-man. He was going to stain his shirt because he was bleeding. But in reality that didn't really matter. He could always buy a new one. Do something living people did on a daily basis. He could eat, drink, feel hot or cold, bathe, and change. He could do everything a dead person couldn't.
Did you know their names?
The lights flickered and Yamamoto made a face at the light. He then shook his head and looked back at the faucet-man. He blinked, slow and long. He could hear the phone ringing on the other side of the door. Loud and annoying. Maybe it was Tsuna or his dad. Or someone he knew but didn't know. He sniffed. He hadn't been locked up in his apartment for long. Not long at all.
They can't breath anymore. Or bleed.
Yamamoto looked over at the faucet-man with a "well duh" kind of look. He rubbed his stomach and leaned forward, trying to turn off the drip because it was really getting to him. The doorbell rang and Yamamoto didn't pay any attention to it.
The door bell is ringing.
Yamamoto mumbled something and leaned back, lounging in the half-full bathtub. He closed his eyes quickly and saw ghosts coming at him. He opened his eyes again and looked at the faucet-man, "I know," He said calmly, rubbing his stomach again and he felt another stitch pop.
He heard the door open. But again he didn't pay any attention. The fridge door was open, he knew, but there wasn't any food in it. The oven was on but nothing was cooking. There was a fan and his AC going full blast even if no one was there to enjoy it. The radio was crackling and his cell phone, which was on the table, he knew, was flipped open. A stop watch attached to the fridge was going. It read 2 days, 17 hours, 44 minutes, and 34, 35, 36 seconds. Yamamoto closed his eyes again, and this time the ghosts didn't attack.
But there was one thing. The bags under his eyes wouldn't go away because if he slept he knew that the ghosts would come back. There was no way around that fact and he wasn't stupid.
I wonder who it could be.
"The kid, probably. Tsuna maybe. My coach…" Yamamoto mused out loud, laughing a little even if there was nothing funny. He shifted, the red water lapping at his wet jeans and white t-shirt, "Who else could it be?"
Gokudera? Maybe. But you're most likely right.
"Yeah." Yamamoto mumbled, not answering as whoever was in his apartment knocked on the bathroom door. He looked at the light until he had blind spots then he looked back at the faucet-man, "Why would Gokudera even come?" The knocking stopped and Yamamoto still didn't pay attention to the door.
Who knows. He's a strange person.
Yamamoto laughed his same old good-natured laugh, even as whoever was on the other side started to pick the lock on the bathroom. His side was really getting to him and the water was getting to look like saturated water-colour more and more but Yamamoto didn't bother to notice. The door sprung open and Yamamoto was too busy smiling at the faucet-man to look to see who it was.
I was right.
The water blood moved like waves when Yamamoto lurched forward to spy at whoever was at the door. He saw Gokudera standing at the door, taking in the scene. Yamamoto smiled at him even as him wound smarted at him. "Gokudera," He greeted.
"Who were you talking to?" The Italian asked, pushing back the bath curtain, "Any why is every fucking appliance on in here?"
Yamamoto looked genuinely confused.
He's asking why. Just why.
"Because," Yamamoto started looking back at the faucet-man, "I need to live," He answered with a chuckle. He scratched the back of his head and leaned back over, trying to stop the drip.
Yamamoto saw Gokudera gritting his teeth in frustration. He looked at the faucet-man, where Yamamoto was looking and rubbed his forehead. He said something in Italian-
Natural assassin my ass.
and took off his shoes. Yamamoto was torn between watching the faucet-man and watching Gokudera. The silver-haired man took off his jacket and flipped off the lights, "Room for one more?" He asked, his voice betraying a smidgen of worry.
"Sure." Yamamoto said, moving to the side so Gokudera would have space.
I told you he's strange.
"I know, Yamamoto agreed with another chuckle, "He always has been."
Gokudera puffed out an indignant breath of air and ran his hand through his hair. He stepped into the red bathwater and sat down so his feet were by Yamamoto's waist and Yamamoto's feet were propped up on the tub rim next to Gokudera's head, "You're bleeding," Gokudera said offhandedly, looking at how red the water was getting. He then looked at Yamamoto's attire and sighed again, "Do I even want to know?"
"Know what?" Yamamoto asked, knocking his head against the wall again, he looked at the faucet-man, then back at the switched-off light. He moved his hand up and rubbed his face, getting the blood water on his cheek.
"Never mind," Gokudera mumbled.
So they sat in silence for a while. Yamamoto sometimes would speak, but it was never to Gokudera.
"You killed someone," Gokudera finally brought up, looking Yamamoto in the eyes. Gokudera's green and white t-shirt was shading red and his dark-wash jeans were really heavy with all the added water but he didn't bother getting out of the bath.
The pause was long and the dripping continued.
He spoke to you.
"Yeah," Yamamoto finally answered, "But I'm okay."
Gokudera nodded, "Yeah, I know," Gokudera looked out at the bathroom, then at the knobs beside his head. Gokudera rubbed Yamamoto's calf, watching to see if the baseball freak reacted any.
Yamamoto just smiled.
The bark of laughter was unexpected, coming from Gokudera at least, but Gokudera laughed, sharp and cold and yanked Yamamoto forward by the shirt collar, "You fucking homo, stop living in the past," He ground out, glaring into Yamamoto's eyes. So what you killed someone, "So what you killed someone, get over it!" Gokudera ordered, straddling Yamamoto's waist so he could get in the baseball freaks face even more, so he could be forefront instead of whatever the fuck was talking to him.
Yamamoto blinked up at Gokudera before stripping off his shirt and starting on the fly of his jeans. Gokudera was asking him what he was doing and his answer was simple: "Undressing." Next he started to work on Gokudera's clothing, stripping off the shirt and undoing the fly on Gokudera's pants; it was surprising to Yamamoto when Gokudera didn't swat away his hands.
He doesn't want to deny you.
"Why?" Yamamoto asked, as he held Gokudera close, making the not-so-much-of-a-teenager sit on his lap. He felt Gokudera bite his shoulder and something warmer splatter on his back.
Not sure. He's a strange person, remember?
Yamamoto blinked and started to laugh, even as he was fingering Gokudera's cock with fairly numb fingers. He nibbled on Gokudera's neck for a little while, before answering, "Yeah, I remember."
Then Gokudera slammed Yamamoto's head against the wall, the junction between index finger and thumb shoved between Yamamoto's teeth. Gokudera was seething and Yamamoto was positively confused. He tried to speak around the flesh in his mouth but Gokudera wouldn't let him, "Wake up!" Gokudera yelled, "Open your eyes! You've been cooped up in this fucking place for days! Do you know how many times we phoned and how many times you picked up but didn't say anything?" Gokudera shoved a knee painfully against Yamamoto's crotch, "Do you know how worried Tenth is?"
Yamamoto looked into Gokudera's glassy jade eyes then shrugged, he tried to lick his lips but wound up just licking Gokudera's hand.
"You can't stop living just because you stopped someone else from living," Gokudera said, putting his forehead against Yamamoto's forehead, "Alright?"
There was a moment of silence, even Yamamoto's hand stopped. Then it started back up and Gokudera let out a pained sigh and let his own hand start stroking Yamamoto's dick. Then Yamamoto said, "Yeah. To you, not the faucet-face." He rubbed his cheek against Gokudera's, getting the blood water he'd put there on Gokudera's cheek, "Yeah."
Gokudera made a sound at the back of his throat, a hissing growl type thing and he bowed his head. He sat like that, looking at the gash in Yamamoto's side before muttering, grudgingly, "The first is the hardest," He hated saying something so cliché, so corny, but it had to be said. It just had to be said. Yamamoto just nodded and put his chin on Gokudera's shoulder and closed his eyes, removing the faucet-face from view.
"Okay."
They didn't bother getting out of the bathtub. Gokudera stayed on Yamamoto's lap and Yamamoto kept his chin on Gokudera's shoulder and they both were jerking each other off just because, and it had to be the most relaxing thing Gokudera had done in 2 days, 18 hours, 16 minutes, and 34, 35, 36 seconds.