[Reborn fic] Back in Those Days When I Liked You (drabble, Yamamoto-centric, gen)
note: the song for this entry actually has a lot to do with it.
Back in Those Days When I Liked You
For some reason, I've been trying to think back to the first time I saw you. I remember having heard of you, because you were popular with the girls. And there were teachers who hated your guts because you were always trying to look cool.
When we finally met, you were different from what I expected. I was relieved. You weren't as cool as I thought at all. I mean, sure you were, but not too cool. I mean, you were just a kid around my age who smoked a lot and acted tough.
(You weren't that tough, obviously. The more scared you were, the meaner you wanted to look.)
I don't know exactly how it happened, but we found ourselves going home together a lot. I had baseball practice so I came home a bit later than most of the kids in school, and you had... well, who knows. And we were walking home the same way, even taking the same train.
Where did you live? Who was taking care of you? What did you think about the mafia game? How did you keep getting such good grades? I remember asking you these things. I remember you saying "Shut up, I don't know you" and "Stop talking to me" until I said All right, I wouldn't ask any more questions. Then we sat or stood or walked quietly together until it was time for me to say See you tomorrow.
Sometimes you raised your hand and sometimes you even looked over your shoulder, but that's what I remember most clearly - us not talking, most of the time.
I didn't really care. I was thinking of you or of things about you and you were thinking of something else - that was just the way it went.
I remember when we started talking. You asked "Do you think the Tenth will like this?" when we were passing by a guy selling handmade jewelry on the street. I think I said something like I didn't know anything about jewelry and it was weird you were still calling Tsuna "the Tenth" even when no one else we knew was around. You shot me a look and brushed past me as you walked away without buying anything.
Okay, maybe that wasn't when we started talking.
I'm no good at this. My body remembers more than my brain does. For example, I remember this time we got caught in the rain. It was cold and the sky was dark and I was a little worn out from training. So when we were in the shade, I sat and closed my eyes while you stood and lit a cigarette.
We were quiet for a long time and you started humming something. I don't remember the melody now. I think I asked you what it was and I don't think you told me. I think I said you could carry a tune well, and you just looked at me and looked away again.
You weren't that frustrating, then. I mean, I knew you went out of your way to be a prick to everyone except Tsuna, but that was still okay. You really cared about Tsuna. I thought that was great and maybe a bit enviable, because I didn't think I could really, truly care about someone else like that.
I guess it built up a little everyday. The not getting through to you, that is.
It surprised me, too, what I said that time. I guess I remember because it's important:
If you open your heart only to Tsuna, all you're doing is putting pressure on him.
I didn't have to say that. Not at the time, I mean. But it was something I'd always wanted to say.
The more I thought about how fixated you were on Tsuna, the more frustrating you became. I didn't have to let you know it. In fact, I didn't have to let it get to me. All the same, it kind of did.
You needed somebody to get in your face. I thought at first that I had no choice but to be that person, but the more I thought about it, the less I liked the thought of anyone else being that person.
"Hey," you asked me once, "do you really think this is all still a game?"
It was a funny thing to ask when we'd both just come within an inch of dying. I laughed and said Of course not.
I said that thinking of the mafia thing as a game helped me do my best and win. I think I also said something about losses. The pain was real enough, I said. But if I kept thinking of it as a game, the losses mattered less.
I didn't know why I had to tell you something like that. It was a while before I could figure it out.
When I try to think back to how we were, I get nostalgic. Those were carefree, happy days, when we were content to just be beside each other, not talking, not minding each other much. I thought you were an okay guy, a fun and interesting playmate, and that was it.
But you'd become the most important thing about all of this. I couldn't stand quietly by you anymore. It stopped being a game when I realized I could no longer afford to lose you. Or leave you to self-destruct.
I don't just like you now.
And there's no going back to those days.
Back in Those Days When I Liked You
For some reason, I've been trying to think back to the first time I saw you. I remember having heard of you, because you were popular with the girls. And there were teachers who hated your guts because you were always trying to look cool.
When we finally met, you were different from what I expected. I was relieved. You weren't as cool as I thought at all. I mean, sure you were, but not too cool. I mean, you were just a kid around my age who smoked a lot and acted tough.
(You weren't that tough, obviously. The more scared you were, the meaner you wanted to look.)
I don't know exactly how it happened, but we found ourselves going home together a lot. I had baseball practice so I came home a bit later than most of the kids in school, and you had... well, who knows. And we were walking home the same way, even taking the same train.
Where did you live? Who was taking care of you? What did you think about the mafia game? How did you keep getting such good grades? I remember asking you these things. I remember you saying "Shut up, I don't know you" and "Stop talking to me" until I said All right, I wouldn't ask any more questions. Then we sat or stood or walked quietly together until it was time for me to say See you tomorrow.
Sometimes you raised your hand and sometimes you even looked over your shoulder, but that's what I remember most clearly - us not talking, most of the time.
I didn't really care. I was thinking of you or of things about you and you were thinking of something else - that was just the way it went.
I remember when we started talking. You asked "Do you think the Tenth will like this?" when we were passing by a guy selling handmade jewelry on the street. I think I said something like I didn't know anything about jewelry and it was weird you were still calling Tsuna "the Tenth" even when no one else we knew was around. You shot me a look and brushed past me as you walked away without buying anything.
Okay, maybe that wasn't when we started talking.
I'm no good at this. My body remembers more than my brain does. For example, I remember this time we got caught in the rain. It was cold and the sky was dark and I was a little worn out from training. So when we were in the shade, I sat and closed my eyes while you stood and lit a cigarette.
We were quiet for a long time and you started humming something. I don't remember the melody now. I think I asked you what it was and I don't think you told me. I think I said you could carry a tune well, and you just looked at me and looked away again.
You weren't that frustrating, then. I mean, I knew you went out of your way to be a prick to everyone except Tsuna, but that was still okay. You really cared about Tsuna. I thought that was great and maybe a bit enviable, because I didn't think I could really, truly care about someone else like that.
I guess it built up a little everyday. The not getting through to you, that is.
It surprised me, too, what I said that time. I guess I remember because it's important:
If you open your heart only to Tsuna, all you're doing is putting pressure on him.
I didn't have to say that. Not at the time, I mean. But it was something I'd always wanted to say.
The more I thought about how fixated you were on Tsuna, the more frustrating you became. I didn't have to let you know it. In fact, I didn't have to let it get to me. All the same, it kind of did.
You needed somebody to get in your face. I thought at first that I had no choice but to be that person, but the more I thought about it, the less I liked the thought of anyone else being that person.
"Hey," you asked me once, "do you really think this is all still a game?"
It was a funny thing to ask when we'd both just come within an inch of dying. I laughed and said Of course not.
I said that thinking of the mafia thing as a game helped me do my best and win. I think I also said something about losses. The pain was real enough, I said. But if I kept thinking of it as a game, the losses mattered less.
I didn't know why I had to tell you something like that. It was a while before I could figure it out.
When I try to think back to how we were, I get nostalgic. Those were carefree, happy days, when we were content to just be beside each other, not talking, not minding each other much. I thought you were an okay guy, a fun and interesting playmate, and that was it.
But you'd become the most important thing about all of this. I couldn't stand quietly by you anymore. It stopped being a game when I realized I could no longer afford to lose you. Or leave you to self-destruct.
I don't just like you now.
And there's no going back to those days.