fic! :)
Title - guns&romance
Author - moi
Rating - PG
Pairing - 8059
Warnings - guns & mafia & kisses! D:
Summary -
Guns & romance.
First he’s looking in the mirror and straightening his tie and then he’s strapped into the passenger’s seat and they’re going by at the speed of sound. The city lights are whizzing past and it’s red blue red blue yellow green and white. The man next to him lifts a hand off the wheel to take the cigarette out of his mouth; the smoke passes through his lips and it’s nothing against the wind.
They smile.
He has always liked games, not only because they are fun but because of the adrenaline rush that he gets. He likes the games that remind him just how to live and that he is really alive. That he can come near and skim right past death, watch it reach out its ugly claws to grab him but he turns away at the last minute and he’s free.
Life is something to be enjoyed.
The silver-haired man knows. That’s why he is smiling that strange sarcastic smile that he’s not quite used to just yet. Not quite used to being smiled at.
The cigarette falls from his partner’s hand and the windows are rolled up, as the tight words are uttered-“hold on.”-and he holds on for dear life. But he can’t help the soft laugh that escapes from his lips, like it’s just dying to explode. He has life on his left side and death on his right.
What a fun game.
“It’s not a game, idiot.” Lazy words that have long stopped being harsh, words he’s long gotten used to hearing, words that don’t mean anything because it’s easier to pretend that everything is a game.
Because there is always a winner and a loser, so why not just make it fun while they’re at it? He will come out on top, he can’t afford lose because the stakes are too high. It is not his regular baseball game where he is at the last inning and the last point and the last pitch and he just has to hit the ball or else-no, if he doesn’t win here, he will never be able to play again.
So he must win.
“Gokudera?” He asks. He receives no answer but a quick snap and loosening of the seat belt and he’s dragged out of the car, and then they’re sprinting. Through thick woods and shrubs and bushes (sharp twigs that scratch at them and rip their clothes apart). He imagines himself on those cold mornings at 5 am racing past Tsuna’s house, to school, and then around and around the baseball field.
“Gokudera?” He asks with more urgency. The man in front of him turns, glares, “-shut up and run-” grabs his hand, they are teenagers again. They are young and invincible, nothing like gunshots and mafia hot on their trail can hurt them.
But they are not really teenagers.
A bullet grazes his cheek, two more follow, he tackles Gokudera to the ground. They roll behind a bush and they run like their lives depend on it. Because-it does.
And they are leaning against a tan adobe wall, breathing in and out and filling their lungs with precious air, with pursuers high above them, screaming and cursing in Italian. Find them find them do not forgive them for what they have done-is it really their fault?
There is the sound of machine guns and rifles and pistols and all sorts of shots firing into the horizon, into the setting sun. He reaches over and clasps a cold, sweaty hand. Green eyes meet brown (they clash, but well he supposes), he feels his chest shake with suppressed laughter. And Gokudera manages a small smile as well.
They kiss with gunshots above their heads, and wouldn’t it be nice if they were really young and invincible and things like raining bullets could do nothing?
After all, life is only so short. Bang bang and you’re dead, baby.
a/n gdalkg actually i'm kind of nervous about posting this because i dont usually write a lot of 8059 and there are already a bunch of superfantasticamazingwonderful 8059 writers out there and mine is just like. mud compared. actually it's probably worse than mud but uh, spare me.
so um, i feel kind of lame because i dont really know what to say here. D8
CC! I LOVE CC!
oh, actually, the fic is inspired by a song i've never heard. XD; my friend quoted it and i liked it so, haha.
"I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)"
-- Heroes, David Bowie
Author - moi
Rating - PG
Pairing - 8059
Warnings - guns & mafia & kisses! D:
Summary -
Guns & romance.
First he’s looking in the mirror and straightening his tie and then he’s strapped into the passenger’s seat and they’re going by at the speed of sound. The city lights are whizzing past and it’s red blue red blue yellow green and white. The man next to him lifts a hand off the wheel to take the cigarette out of his mouth; the smoke passes through his lips and it’s nothing against the wind.
They smile.
He has always liked games, not only because they are fun but because of the adrenaline rush that he gets. He likes the games that remind him just how to live and that he is really alive. That he can come near and skim right past death, watch it reach out its ugly claws to grab him but he turns away at the last minute and he’s free.
Life is something to be enjoyed.
The silver-haired man knows. That’s why he is smiling that strange sarcastic smile that he’s not quite used to just yet. Not quite used to being smiled at.
The cigarette falls from his partner’s hand and the windows are rolled up, as the tight words are uttered-“hold on.”-and he holds on for dear life. But he can’t help the soft laugh that escapes from his lips, like it’s just dying to explode. He has life on his left side and death on his right.
What a fun game.
“It’s not a game, idiot.” Lazy words that have long stopped being harsh, words he’s long gotten used to hearing, words that don’t mean anything because it’s easier to pretend that everything is a game.
Because there is always a winner and a loser, so why not just make it fun while they’re at it? He will come out on top, he can’t afford lose because the stakes are too high. It is not his regular baseball game where he is at the last inning and the last point and the last pitch and he just has to hit the ball or else-no, if he doesn’t win here, he will never be able to play again.
So he must win.
“Gokudera?” He asks. He receives no answer but a quick snap and loosening of the seat belt and he’s dragged out of the car, and then they’re sprinting. Through thick woods and shrubs and bushes (sharp twigs that scratch at them and rip their clothes apart). He imagines himself on those cold mornings at 5 am racing past Tsuna’s house, to school, and then around and around the baseball field.
“Gokudera?” He asks with more urgency. The man in front of him turns, glares, “-shut up and run-” grabs his hand, they are teenagers again. They are young and invincible, nothing like gunshots and mafia hot on their trail can hurt them.
But they are not really teenagers.
A bullet grazes his cheek, two more follow, he tackles Gokudera to the ground. They roll behind a bush and they run like their lives depend on it. Because-it does.
And they are leaning against a tan adobe wall, breathing in and out and filling their lungs with precious air, with pursuers high above them, screaming and cursing in Italian. Find them find them do not forgive them for what they have done-is it really their fault?
There is the sound of machine guns and rifles and pistols and all sorts of shots firing into the horizon, into the setting sun. He reaches over and clasps a cold, sweaty hand. Green eyes meet brown (they clash, but well he supposes), he feels his chest shake with suppressed laughter. And Gokudera manages a small smile as well.
They kiss with gunshots above their heads, and wouldn’t it be nice if they were really young and invincible and things like raining bullets could do nothing?
After all, life is only so short. Bang bang and you’re dead, baby.
a/n gdalkg actually i'm kind of nervous about posting this because i dont usually write a lot of 8059 and there are already a bunch of superfantasticamazingwonderful 8059 writers out there and mine is just like. mud compared. actually it's probably worse than mud but uh, spare me.
so um, i feel kind of lame because i dont really know what to say here. D8
CC! I LOVE CC!
oh, actually, the fic is inspired by a song i've never heard. XD; my friend quoted it and i liked it so, haha.
"I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)"
-- Heroes, David Bowie