[Katekyo Hitman Reborn] mastication
Title: Mastication
Author: masanami
Character(s): Yamamoto/Hibari, Tsuna, Gokudera
Word Count: 6,912
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Before he knew it Yamamoto found his growing feelings for Hibari impossible to resist.
Author's Note: This has to be one of my favorite pieces of fanfiction in a while. This started out as a drabble but forced itself into a one-shot. I redid several scenes until I got them closer to an 8018 feel and it wasn't easy since I wrote this in a tense that I am still experimenting with and testing out. In the end I'm satisfied with the results and hope you enjoy it as well ♥
Yamamoto is sure he is the last person Hibari Kyouya expected to see. He could tell by the way Hibari looked at him with narrowing eyes as he stands in front of his desk in the reception room, an offering held out in front of him.
To be fair, Yamamoto didn’t expect to be here either. Not until Tsuna and Gokudera left on the class trip and he stayed behind because of baseball practice.
“What is that?” Hibari looks at the box wrapped in a dark blue cloth.
“It’s sushi, from my dad’s sushi restaurant.” Yamamoto explains.
The look in Hibari’s eyes tell him he wants to know why he should care.
“I thought we could share.” He laughs and sets down the box on the table and begins to unwrap the cloth. “Tsuna and Gokudera aren’t here this week and its lonely eating by myself.”
“Get out of here.”
Instead, Yamamoto sits down. He removes the cloth and opens the top of the bento. Inside is a vast array of colorful sushi that smells faintly of seaweed and rice. Yamamoto breathes in deeply and smiles, because the scent of sushi always reminds him of his father.
He looks up to see that Hibari has crossed his arms over his chest and is looking away, brow furrowed in annoyance. But he hasn’t drawn out his tonfa yet, so Yamamoto takes it as a good sign. He picks up a pair of chopsticks and holds them out across the table in offering. “Here, try some. It’s really good. Promise.” He smiles.
Hibari turns his head to look at him, and he still has his lips drawn into a taunt line, and the frown of disapproval is still there…but he finally reaches out and snags the chopsticks from Yamamoto’s open palms. He looks down at the bento for a moment as if deciding which rice-filled delicacy is worth his attention.
Tsuyoshi’s famous sushi is hard to resist even for someone as picky as Hibari. Yamamoto smiles as he thinks this and watches Hibari’s eyes scan the layers of tightly wrapped rolls.
It surprises him how fascinating it is to see Hibari like this. The way Hibari holds the chopsticks in his hands, the way he brings the food to his lips, and then chews. It’s the chewing that has caught his attention the most. Because Hibari works his jaw in a forward motion, and his teeth clamp down and faintly chatter with each bite. There’s barely any movement of the jaw, and somehow it makes him seem delicate and more refined than himself, who chews with his mouth open and inbetween laughs. He’s always eating with Tsuna and Gokudera, and their meals take place amongst laughter and talk, and there is rarely a silent moment among them. But Hibari chews like he does not have time to waste on talking, as if he’s used to the solitude of his lunch hour.
For some reason, Yamamoto finds that sad. He’s always known that Hibari is the type that prefers to be left alone, but the idea of him sitting here by himself everyday at lunch, when most would gather and eat with friends, is something that Yamamoto cannot quite accept. It makes him glad that Hibari is letting him stay, even if its just because of the temptation of good sushi.
“Why are you staring at me?” Hibari asks as he looks at him from across the table.
Yamamoto laughs. “No reason.”
“Then stop.”
“Now, now.” He takes out a second pair of chopsticks and takes some food for himself. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Be quiet. I don’t like talking when I eat.” Hibari watches him for a moment before selecting another piece of sushi. He bites into it after dipping it in soy sauce and chews slowly. After a moment he nods an agreement and reaches for another piece.
Yamamoto just smiles and grabs a salmon roll.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
The next day Yamamoto comes back again, and Hibari is there in the reception room, but this time he isn’t sitting at the desk. He’s standing by the large window looking down on the front yard of Namimori Middle with his arms crossed over his chest and his black jacket swung over his shoulders. He looks up when Yamamoto comes into the room, holding up a bento box in greeting and a wide grin upon his lips.
“I brought lunch again,” he says as he walks up to the desk, places the bento on it, and pulls up an extra chair.
“I’m not hungry.” Hibari looks back out the window.
“Oh c’mon, I brought some more of the calamari rolls. I noticed you seemed to like those the other day.” In fact, he’d eaten almost all of the calamari rolls his father had prepared. “I brought some different types to try too.” He began to unload the top and the smell of fresh sushi wavered through the air.
Hibari continued to look out the window for a moment longer before slowly closing his eyes. He seemed to weigh something in his mind before finally opening his eyes and moving to sit down in his chair. “Give me the chopsticks.” He held out an open palm toward Yamamoto.
Smiling in satisfaction, Yamamoto compiles by placing the eating utensils into the outstretched palm. Yamamoto watches as Hibari looks down at the food before selecting one of the calamari rolls and taking it between the chopsticks. He smiles because he’s found something that Hibari likes other than fighting and he feels a sense of pride in that accomplishment.
He reaches for his own share of the food and they eat in silence. The only noise that fills the room is the sound of their chewing and the euphony of their movements. Yamamoto leans back in his chair as he eats, surprised at how easily they sit without talking in this comfortable quiet. He is so use to the argumentative Gokudera or worried Tsuna that it is almost unusual to share the same space with someone without filling the distance with laugher or some other noise. There’s a calm to it, a peacefulness that Yamamoto never expected. And as he looks over at Hibari and watches him, he thinks he understands him a little bit better. Even though his tongue itches with questions he’d like to ask, a yearning to understand him even more, he keeps silent because this is the way that Hibari likes it.
Instead he watches.
Hibari’s eyes are partially closed as he eats, almost as if he is trying to savor the taste that fills his mouth with each bite. When he chews he does it with the same concentration in which he fights-even the way he holds the chopsticks poised in his hands screams of his strength, his focus, his resolve.
Yamamoto finds himself mesmerized by the sight because it reminds him of the Shigure Soen Ryu; the flawless and invincible swordsmanship that must be mastered with every fiber of the wielder’s being. He imagines this is just how Hibari is-that he is flawless and invincible because he refuses anything less than perfection to achieve his goals. Others may consider it a short-sighted and temperamental trait, but Yamamoto can see it as something entirely else. In a lot of ways, he felt like he could relate.
“Is there something on my face?”
Yamamoto looks up, lips parted and half-chewed food still in his mouth. “Huh?”
“You’re staring at me.” Hibari points out, a single slender eyebrow arching.
Chewing and then swallowing, Yamamoto laughs. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking that this is the first time we’ve ever eaten together like this.”
“I don’t like others crowding me.” He set down the chopsticks on the table, signaling that he is done-both with eating and explaining.
“But its nice, isn’t it? I mean, not eating alone everyday?”
“The company of others is not something I require, Yamamoto Takeshi.” Hibari looks at the clock hanging over the entranceway to the reception room and then smirks as he turns his gaze back to Yamamoto. “Lunch is almost over. If you aren’t back to class in time I’m going to have to bite you to death.”
Yamamoto laughs and nods his head. “Now, now. I’ll get going.” He cleans up the bento as Hibari leans back in his chair and looks away.
“Cream cheese.”
Yamamoto looks over at Hibari as the last of the lunch is put away. “Huh?”
“Next time, put cream cheese in the calamari rolls.”
His lips curl into a smile that lights his face and he nods. “Sure!”
For a brief moment he wonders if its strange that he’s so happy just because there will be a next time.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
It happens the next day and then the day after that.
Yamamoto brings sushi, onigiri, and even soba noodles. Everyday at the same time he shows up at the reception room at the beginning of lunch and Hibari is waiting for him there-sometimes he is sitting at the desk, or the window, or the couch-but he is always there. One day he even has green tea waiting for them, warm to the touch and freshly made right before the bell rings for lunch. And for this one week, they make a routine of their silent lunches. Yamamoto found himself anticipating each lunch hour and the meal they would spend together-and it was fun to try and figure out the different dishes that Hibari liked. He had even gotten to the point where he could tell the way Hibari favored one type of food over the other by the way he chewed-fast to get rid of it or slow to savor it.
It was almost like a game.
He even started to wake up early and make the meals with his father, and never once did his father question why he was making so much food for lunch or ask him why he wanted to know about different recipes that would go well with Hibari’s favorite brand of green tea. Tsuyoshi just smiles and squeezes his son’s shoulder before he leaves each morning, as if he knows something that Yamamoto doesn’t quite grasp.
The bell is about to ring for lunch and Yamamoto eyes the wrapped bento box. It’s Friday and the last day before Tsuna and Gokudera return to school from the class trip. He wonders if things will go back to the way they were or if this will be his last quiet meal with Hibari. The thought that this may really be the last day twists a knot in his stomach and makes him tap his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk. He’s surprised at the enjoyment of these last few days; learning to understand Hibari better, trying to master him like the sword style that his father taught him.
He sighs as he pushes those thoughts away when the bell rings and its time for lunch. If only for this one hour he’ll forget about Monday and the change it may bring.
He tucks the bento underneath his arm and heads toward the reception room with a jump in his step as he takes the stairs two at a time. The door is unlocked and waiting for him just as it has been for the last four days, and Yamamoto does not hesitate when he opens it. “Hey Hiba-“ He stops when he steps inside and sees Hibari laying stretched out on the sofa, shoes discarded and socked feet curled up on the cushions. From here Yamamoto can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the slight part of his lips as the other boy sleeps.
His eyes blink and his mind goes blank because he’s never seen Hibari so…relaxed. He’s just laying there and his face has lost any trace of frown or scowl, and he looks comfortable, peaceful, almost tranquil.
Yamamoto wonders if he has ever seen Hibari look like that before.
He steps forward while trying to remain as quiet as possible. He doesn’t want to wake the sleeping boy, but he can’t turn away either. Something is drawing him forward, to gaze more closely at the figure in his slumber. The bento box finds it way to the table and Yamamoto stands in front of the sofa and looks down at Hibari. He hasn’t moved yet and the breathing is steady as ever, telling Yamamoto that he hasn’t disturbed his sleep.
“Wow…” he breathes just above a whisper. He never noticed how pretty Hibari looked before. Stripped from the irritation and anger that always seems to be so clear upon his face, Hibari looks like a completely different person. He has an attractiveness that is both delicate, sensual, and strong. Maybe it’s because he knows what Hibari is capable of, that he can be so fierce at a moment’s notice, that heightens an awareness in Yamamoto that makes his heart beat faster when he sees this vulnerable side to him.
Hibari’s bangs are just covering his eyes and Yamamoto can imagine him waking and brushing them away with a swipe of his hand. He moves his hand even though he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. His fingertips move just over the top of Hibari’s head and then-more daring-he actually touches the soft strands. They are so black and so soft in feel against his touch, and he can’t help but want to run his fingers down the side of Hibari’s face and look into those eyes.
Yamamoto wonders why this makes his stomach twist in knots.
He chews against his lip and considers doing more, but then Hibari’s eyes snap open and they narrow dangerous close.
“Why are you crowding me?” Hibari smacks away Yamamoto’s hand and sits up in a blink of movement. His lips draw into a taunt line as he stands and within a split second his tonfa are drawn and he’s swinging them upward, aiming directly for Yamamoto’s head without a trace of hesitation.
Yamamoto barely gets a chance to duck out of the way and he can feel the slight brush of steel against his hair. “Now now, Hibari, I didn’t mean to make you upset but that’s no reason to hit me.”
“Why were you touching me?” Hibari asks through a growl. He isn’t trying to hit him again, but he hasn’t put down his tonfa either.
“I-I, umm…”
I wanted to touch you.
But he knows he can’t say that because then Hibari really will bite him to death. So instead he laughs and brushes off the question. “I was just trying to wake you up.”
Hibari’s eyes narrow and he looks at him with jaw firmly set, and Yamamoto briefly wonders if he will be chewed quickly or slowly whenever he’s bitten to death.
But instead of doing that, Hibari puts away the tonfa and turns his back on him. “Go crowd with the other herbivores. I don’t want you here.”
“But Hibari-“
“Don’t come back.”
Yamamoto sighs because there is a finality in Hibari’s voice that tells him there is no room for argument.
Their quiet lunches are over.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
He couldn’t concentrate.
“Yamamoto! Your swing is too late.”
He sighs and nods as he hears his coach’s voice from the sidelines. His grip on the wooden bat tightens as he clenches his fingers and forces himself to concentrate. Ahead of him the pitcher winds back his arm and stretches out his body, and in a flash the white-stitched baseball is hurdled right toward him.
And Yamamoto remembers the white-knuckled grip of Hibari’s fingers around the hilt of his tonfa-he swings and the ball goes sailing pass him.
He straightens up and taps the bottom of the bat against the ground, his lips frowning. “Sorry coach, I guess I’m just having an off day.” He calls out as he adjusts his cap and wipes sweat from his brow. He wets his lips with his tongue, the taste of salt is bitter on his taste buds. The flashes of Hibari’s image in his head make concentration impossible and even baseball, his most beloved sport, is blemished.
His coach comes up and claps him on the back. “It’s okay Yamamoto, everyone has off days. Go ahead and call it quits for today.”
Yamamoto smiles, but the smile does not quite reach his eyes. “Sure, I bet I’ll be good as new tomorrow.” He laughs and brushes off his horrible day of practice with a smile that is enough to convince his coach and fellow team mates that it means nothing.
But it means everything.
Baseball is something he loves. The only thing more important to him than baseball is his friends, but his friends aren’t in trouble and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be able to concentrate during practice. It’s hard to admit, but its obvious that yesterday’s argument with Hibari won’t leave his mind. He still remembers how peaceful Hibari looked when sleeping, and how angry he became when he found him hovering over him, fingertips pressed just above his jaw line.
Yamamoto swings his equipment bag over one shoulder and walks across the campus. It’s Saturday and the school’s grounds are empty except for the last of the baseball team members.
He looks up as he walks by the front of the main building, and almost instantly his eyes focus on the large windows of the reception room. It’s the weekend and surely even Hibari has better things to do then hang out at school-but he still looks anyway and when he sees the flutter of curtains his heart begins to race…but then he realizes the window has only been left open and the breeze is the only thing disrupting the empty room.
“Damn Takeshi,” he chides himself. “Get a grip.”
He takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, and then replaces it. At this point its only too obvious why he can’t stop thinking about Hibari and why even his famous home run hitting swing is messed up. He never would have thought it possible, but now he knows for sure-there’s no doubting the fact that he likes Hibari Kyouya.
But now what was he going to do about it?
Yamamoto sighs, wondering just that.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Tsuna and Gokudera are back next week. They all sit together at lunch again, but for Yamamoto it doesn’t feel quite the same. The cafeteria is crowded and bustling, and he’s looking down at the untouched bento as he absently listens to the conversation beside him. Normally they would eat on the roof but its raining today and they have been forced inside. Normally he finds the sound of rain soothing, but today he cannot find the calm in it.
The bento is just too big for only him, but somehow he can’t make himself share the contents inside.
“Yamamoto-are you okay?”
He blinks as he hears Tsuna’s voice and looks up to smile at his friend. “Ahaha, yeah I’m fine!”
“Tch, just ignore that baseball idiot, Tenth.” Gokudera says as he leans over the table.
Tsuna’s disapproving look silences Gokudera from continuing onto another insult. He looks back at Yamamoto and his concern is genuine. “Are you sure? You’ve been really quiet and you haven’t even eaten.”
Yamamoto leans back and rubs his hair with both of his hands. “I guess I’m just not very hungry.” Tsuna doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push it any further either. “Maybe I’ll stop by the nurse’s office. I might be getting sick.” He laughs it off and pushes back his chair as he stands. He just wants to get out of here and this suffocating place. He can’t breathe here, he can’t do anything but think about wanting to be with Hibari and their comfortable silence.
Tsuna starts to get up. “I’ll go with you.”
“Nah, that’s okay Tsuna.”
“But if you’re not feeling well-“
Gokudera tries to get Tsuna’s attention. “If the baseball idiot says he’s fine then you don’t need to worry about him, Tenth.”
“Gokudera is right, Tsuna. I’ll be fine.” He smiles as Tsuna sits back down. “I’ll see you guys back in class.”
“Be careful Yamamoto.” Tsuna’s words are more of a warning then a request. He knows something is wrong and Yamamoto is grateful for that he does not take it further.
He pushes in his chair and hurries out of the cafeteria before anything else can stop him. Lunch has only just begun and everyone is sequestered inside so the hallways are clear as he walks.
He doesn’t know why he decides to go upstairs but he isn’t surprised when he stops in front of the reception room instead of the nurse’s office. What if Hibari is waiting for him? Didn’t he always spend his lunchtime here? But when he pulls back the door the room is dark. It’s lunchtime and Hibari should have been here, but he’s not.
Don’t come back.
He couldn’t have been serious…
Yamamoto sighs as he looks across the curtain drawn room. Outside he can hear the peal of rain against the window pane.
It feels terribly lonely in this room.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
School is over, practice is cancelled because of the weather, and still Yamamoto is there. He didn’t know what he hoped for when he said goodbye to Tsuna and Gokudera with the lame excuse of returning inside for a book. Even as he walked the corridors he couldn’t help but hope to be stopped by a certain prefect for wandering campus grounds after hours.
It is deadly silent except for the pounding rain against the windows and the bursts of lightning that shake the sky with a flash of light.
Yamamoto frowns as he steps before the class room door and slides it open. He feels his heart racing as he looks up across the room to where his seat is in the far corner and sees Hibari half sitting against the top of his desk. Hibari’s arms are folded across his chest and his eyes are gazing out the rain smeared window. Yamamoto knows exactly what he’s staring at because he’s looked out that window himself time and time again; it’s the baseball field, just the corner of it, that’s visible from his seat with its lush green grass and well manicured lawn. There have been so many days where he sat in that very seat and let his mind wander to that field as he remembered the feel of the baseball in his hands, the bat in his grip, and the strength of the earth pushing back against his feet.
But now Hibari’s there and Yamamoto wonders what he sees.
“Yo Hibari.” He steps into the room, adjusting the strap of his bag that’s flung across his shoulder and willing the rapid beat of his heart to still. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.” But he had hoped.
Hibari looks up and if he’s surprised to see him here it doesn’t show on his face. “I’ve been thinking…” He leans back a little bit more and Yamamoto can hear the shift of the desk as he adjusts his weight. “I don’t understand you.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Yamamoto moves forward, until he’s close enough to see Hibari more clearly. The other boy’s expression is blank, unreadable, without even a scowl to signal a clue.
“I don’t understand your actions or why you insist on crowding around others or hiding the killing intent I can feel inside of you.” Hibari’s eyes look back out the window as another flash of lightning ignites the sky. “Why did you touch me without permission?”
Yamamoto digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks at Hibari, at those dark eyes that are searching for some sort of answer-some sort of understanding. Yamamoto doesn’t know what to say, but the truth, perhaps, is the best option. “I like you.”
Now the emotionless face is gone as Hibari’s eyes narrow and he stands up straight. “What do you mean Yamamoto Takeshi?” He’s on guard, and Yamamoto knows he needs to choose his words carefully.
So he smiles, because it’s the only thing he knows how to do to ease the tension that’s suffocating the air between them. “I like you, Hibari. I want to spend time with you, I want to get to know you. I even want to touch you, if you’ll let me.”
Those dark eyes are considering him, and their heavy gaze makes Yamamoto feel uncomfortable as he shifts pressure between the heels of his shoes.
“I’m not a woman.”
“I never thought you were.”
“Then why are you treating me like one?” Hibari’s arms drop, and his fingers clench into fists at his side, and Yamamoto can feel the tension in the air rising. Outside the storm is growing more fierce as wind howls against the windows and shake the panes.
It almost sounds like chattering teeth.
“Did I?” He rubs the back of his head and smiles. “I didn’t mean to if I did. I just saw you laying there and you looked so cute, and I couldn’t help myself from wanting to touch you. I told you Hibari, I like you. When you like someone you want to touch them.”
“Is that so?” A single slender eyebrow rises and a smirk pulls at Hibari’s lips as he steps forward and closes the distance between them. He moves so quickly that Yamamoto inhales a sharp intake of air when their bodies mesh against one another, and Hibari’s warmth is against his chest and he can feel the heat of his breath against the open collar of his uniform. “Like this Yamamoto Takeshi? Is this how you want to touch me? Like those boys and girls I find hiding in dark corridors or empty classrooms in my school?”
Yamamoto isn’t sure if Hibari is teasing him or serious, but the tightening in his pants is a reality he cannot deny.
Then he felt the cold steel tip of the tonfa pressed against his stomach.
“I don’t like it when people crowd me.” Hibari says, the cadence of his words against his flesh like a tingle down Yamamoto’s spine. “I like it even less when useless people aggravate me. Stay away from me, Yamamoto Takeshi, unless you want to be bitten to death.”
Yamamoto knows the threat is real. Hibari has never been the type to talk idly and he knows that this time is no exception. When this moment passes, there will not be another chance, because Hibari is already pushing him away before anything has begun.
The heavy and dull ache is more than Yamamoto expects, and his eyes lose their light, his lips frowning. “Hibari…” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. Hibari’s eyes look at him questioningly and he prepares to push him aside, but before he can move away, Yamamoto leans into the tonfa and presses their lips together.
It surprises Yamamoto how soft Hibari’s lips are, how easily they widen as his tongue licks the clamped space between them. Hibari’s mouth is warm and tastes of green tea. He can feel Hibari’s teeth clatter against his own when the other boy gives into the press of their lips; Hibari’s kiss both instinctive and clumsy. The light chew he feels on his bottom lip is so different from the way he watched him chew during those lunch hours; this act of mastication is pulsating with need.
The heat of their panting breathes is intoxicating and Yamamoto slips his arms around Hibari’s slender waist-but then Hibari’s tonfa slams into his side hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs and make him double-over in burning pain. When Yamamoto looks up from the ground, Hibari is standing over him with his weapon at his side and his lips drawn in a taunt line, a faint shimmer of their kiss still coating the delicate skin.
Hibari opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Instead teeth are clenched together, and Yamamoto can see the straight line of his jaw and the way the enamels must be rubbing against each other in a grating fashion. The air has come back into his lungs, but they still burn and the pit of his stomach aches, but even more so his heart is racing so fast that it feels as if it could penetrate his chest.
He can tell just by one look that Hibari is on the verge of leaving.
“Don’t go.” Yamamoto says as he pushes himself back to his feet. The confusion is painfully clear on Hibari’s face, as if he doesn’t understand his own actions and reactions. The other boy looks away, flushed and flustered even though he tries-is angry.
Yamamoto reaches up a hand to place along the side of that turned away face and smiles. “I like you.” It is his explanation, his answer for all that is between them, the only way he knows how to explain to Hibari just how he feels. He doesn’t have the knowledge and words like Gokudera or the cute innocence of Tsuna-the only thing he has is his honesty. It is the only thing he knows that he can give Hibari.
He brushes fingertips along the side of Hibari’s face and into the surprisingly soft black hair. For a moment it feels as if Hibari leans the weight of his face into his palm and a slight softness builds in the depth of those dark eyes. But the moment is brief, and almost as swiftly as it occurs, it ends when Hibari smacks his arm away. A shadow descends over what little tender emotion is there, and all that remains is the grit of teeth.
Hibari turns his head away, his gaze locked on the doorway, on the exit, on a way out of this situation. He opens his mouth, the desire to speak palpable in the air around them, but it seems as if he isn’t quite sure how to form the words he wishes to say, so instead he chooses to close his mouth and walk away.
The door slams close.
Yamamoto runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Oh man…” he mumbles. “Did I push too far?”
It’s painfully obvious that he did.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
The next day the rain is coming down harder.
The water thumps like pebbles against Yamamoto’s umbrella as he walks along the sidewalks toward Namimori Middle, the sky churning a gray and black that cloaks the day in mild darkness. All throughout the night the rain had come in a downpour that shook the skies and rattled the windows of his house. Yamamoto spent hours sitting up in bed, looking out his window and watching the sparks of lightning that would momentarily ignite the sky with a light that let him see for miles. But the shine was brief, fleeting, and soon everything was once again bathed in darkness.
The night left him feeling both empty and alone.
Morning brought no solace to the thoughts that drifted through his mind even during slumber. Everywhere, Hibari is filling every corner of his mind. Like a cloud that descends over the sun, Yamamoto’s thoughts were consumed by the dark haired boy and every mistake he made along the way. He remembers so vividly the warmth of Hibari’s skin against his hands, the taste of his mouth pressed against his lips, the slight pant of breathes that filled the silence where words became useless.
Yamamoto wonders if its stupid of him to hope that there is still a chance.
But he also knows that Hibari is a person that will not be bound or caged by anyone, including himself. Perhaps, he wonders, some semblance of a relationship is beyond their grasp.
“But I still want to try.” The words leave his mouth echoless and pitiful, chasing a deep breath that rattles his lips.
Yamamoto can only remember one other time when he felt so hopeless. He wants to laugh when he remembers, because as desperate as that time had seemed back then he knows everything is different. Now there is a reason for living-and hurting-that will keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.
But it doesn’t make the pain of dealing with this moment easier.
A flash of yellow in front of his eyes snaps him from his reprieve and Yamamoto blinks as Hibird comes into focus in front of him. Hibird flies around his head, splaying water droplets into his face with each flap of tiny wings.
He lets a small smile fall onto his lips and lighten his eyes as much as it hurts at first. Hibird reminds Yamamoto that there are delicate things that Hibari likes-aside from fighting, strength, calamari rolls, and pushing him away.
“Hibari! Hibari!” The tiny bird chants.
Yamamoto looks around, half expecting the prefect to be near by. He bites the inside of his lip when he realizes that no one is there but him and the small yellow fluff. He can’t help but be amazed at the crush of disappointment he feels.
“Don’t you know it’s raining, Hibird? Shouldn’t you be inside with Hibari?” Yamamoto smiles and tilts the umbrella forward so they are both sheltered under its width as the bird flies circles around his head.
“Yamamoto Takeshi! Yamamoto Takeshi!” The bird chants in his small song before landing upon his shoulder and shaking feathers that splash water into his hair.
“Haha, you learned my name, huh?” Yamamoto smiles, unable to stop the slight turn of lips and squint of eyes. He thinks it’s a nice thought that maybe Hibari taught him-or that he was at least around enough that Hibird picked up his name on his own.
“Nami~mori,” the bird continues to chirp into his ear.
“Yup, that’s where we’re going.” The school is just within sight and with the downpour of rain there are no people milling about the front of the building in crowds that would be quickly dispersed by a prefect he knows very well. A crack of thunder ignites the sky and Yamamoto wonders whether Hibari is waiting just within the doors of the building to horde off any possibility of congregation-but then he sees the groups of people talking near the entrance as they shake off coats and remove boots, and its very obvious that it isn’t the case.
“Hibari! Hibari!” The small bird alights from his shoulder and swirls around under the cover of the umbrella. “Hibari! Hibari!” The chant continues until Hibird, almost as if tired of explaining, drifts out from the shade and into the pouring rain. He circles higher and higher, the drastic call almost a shriek, before it takes off into the sky toward the rooftops of Namimori Middle.
“What was that about?” Yamamoto says as he tilts back his umbrella and stares up toward the fence lined way where Hibird disappeared.
Yamamoto looks up and thinks about all the meals he has shared together with his friends in that place and all the times he had snuck in to gaze at the beautiful sunset after practice. He knows he isn’t the only one who has fond memories or finds refuge inside those walls with the open sky.
Hibari! Hibari!
It hits him like a foul ball out of left field and Yamamoto only takes a second to think about it before he jogs through the front doors of Namimori Middle and runs down the locker-lined hallways he knows so well.
When he pushes open the door leading to the rooftop he sees Hibird first, wings flapping madly against the rain, as he dances above a set of slender fingertips that reach out to allow the bird a resting perch.
Hibari is sprawled out on the pavement, one hand clasped behind his head and eyes closed. He’s soaking wet; black hair heavy and matted against his face, white shirt stained through so that his pale skin is just a perceptible film under the fabric.
The slight change in easing breathes tells Yamamoto that Hibari knows he’s not alone even if he doesn’t turn toward him, but Hibird is the one to break the silence with an announcement.
“Yamamoto Takeshi! Yamamoto Takeshi!” The bird alights from Hibari’s fingertips and flutters through the air to him and the shelter of his umbrella, while Hibari’s hand falls down upon his chest.
The sound of rain pelting against the concrete rooftop fills the growing silence, until Yamamoto steps forward and Hibari speaks.
“Yamamoto Takeshi.” His eyes open but they look up into the pouring sky and briefly Yamamoto wonders if the rain makes Hibari think of him. “Leave.”
“It’s raining.” He adjusts the umbrella that shelters him from the downpour. The air between them is heavy with the scent of fresh waterfall.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Hibari continues without notice to the obviousness that Yamamoto is pointing out.
Hibari reaches out a hand toward the sky, and the rain droplets fall onto his outstretched fingers and run down the length of his arm. His lips are parted ever so slightly, glistening droplets lingering atop soft pink lips and through dark hair. They glide and coast along the smooth surface and Yamamoto imagines the feel of that skin against his own touch.
If only he were an extension of the rain itself…if only he could feel the softness of that skin tingling against his fingertips.
His breath catches in his lungs, igniting a burning deep beneath the walls of his chest. He decides right in this moment that he has been a fool all along. Never once has he given up, whether it comes to learning baseball or mastering swordsmanship-and he is not about to give up on gaining Hibari Kyouya as part of his life.
If he gives up so easily…then maybe he never did deserve to have someone like Hibari in his life.
Yamamoto’s smile is fond and warm as he steps forward and leans over Hibari, blocking out the rain.
Blinking, Hibari stares up at him.
Yamamoto reaches down and takes that outstretched hand and their fingers slide together, easy and gentle from the slick of water.
“Hey Hibari, let me keeping trying. I want to keep guessing what your favorite foods are and the things you like-the things that make you happy other then fighting and this school. I know I made you mad but I think I can make you happy too, if you give me a chance.” He holds the handle of the umbrella a little firmer as the rain that rushes around them. “I won’t rush you. I just want to get to know you. And when you’re ready to let me, I’d really like to hold you and kiss you.”
“I tried to forget about you, but I realized I can’t-I like you and that’s not something I want to just give up and forget about.” Yamamoto says with a smile filled with all his insecurities, doubt, but mostly with his love and affection. He looks down and watches Hibari, waiting for some sort of signal or response.
When he notices the water sliding down the side of Hibari’s face, he can’t be sure if its tears or the rain.
But the smile is indisputable.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Spring is coming.
Yamamoto can feel the change in the air, in the smell of sakura that blossom and their pink petals that are just waking from enclosed slumber. The morning sun is warm and the rainy days of weeks ago have passed, bathing the world in a replenishing new day.
He adjusts his shoulder bag and smiles when he approaches Namimori Middle. Just as the school comes into sight he can make out Tsuna’s head of spiked brown hair and Gokudera’s tangles of gray.
“Yo Tsuna!” Yamamoto calls out as he waves out his arm in greeting. He jogs to catch up to Tsuna and Gokudera in front of the school, all smiles and grins.
“Good morning, Yamamoto!” Tsuna smiles.
“Tch, you’re too noisy baseball freak.” Gokudera grumbles as he drops his cigarette on the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He jams his hands into the pockets of his pants and mutters underneath his breath.
Yamamoto laughs, ignoring Gokudera’s foul mood. “Morning Gokudera!”
“Whatever,” the other boy mumbles as he leads the way into the school.
Yamamoto smiles and walks with Gokudera and Tsuna as they pass through the gates of Namimori Middle. Here the feel of spring is palpable with the bubbling of conversation, the warmth of the sun, and the bright colors of blossoming flowers. It brings a happiness that settles atop his heart and lights his eyes as he absently listens to the conversation between Tsuna and Gokudera.
His eyes drift around the campus and he catches sight of a lone figure leaning against the wall of the building. Hibari’s arms are crossed over his chest and Yamamoto smiles when Hibari’s gaze flickers upward through the haze of black hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. For a brief moment his lips spread in the smallest of smiles and Yamamoto can see the press of white teeth, a warmth that anyone else would easily miss.
Yamamoto returns the gesture with his own teeth gritted into a grin as he holds up a wrapped bento box.
It’s a bento big enough for two.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Yamamoto/Hibari, Tsuna, Gokudera
Word Count: 6,912
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Before he knew it Yamamoto found his growing feelings for Hibari impossible to resist.
Author's Note: This has to be one of my favorite pieces of fanfiction in a while. This started out as a drabble but forced itself into a one-shot. I redid several scenes until I got them closer to an 8018 feel and it wasn't easy since I wrote this in a tense that I am still experimenting with and testing out. In the end I'm satisfied with the results and hope you enjoy it as well ♥
Yamamoto is sure he is the last person Hibari Kyouya expected to see. He could tell by the way Hibari looked at him with narrowing eyes as he stands in front of his desk in the reception room, an offering held out in front of him.
To be fair, Yamamoto didn’t expect to be here either. Not until Tsuna and Gokudera left on the class trip and he stayed behind because of baseball practice.
“What is that?” Hibari looks at the box wrapped in a dark blue cloth.
“It’s sushi, from my dad’s sushi restaurant.” Yamamoto explains.
The look in Hibari’s eyes tell him he wants to know why he should care.
“I thought we could share.” He laughs and sets down the box on the table and begins to unwrap the cloth. “Tsuna and Gokudera aren’t here this week and its lonely eating by myself.”
“Get out of here.”
Instead, Yamamoto sits down. He removes the cloth and opens the top of the bento. Inside is a vast array of colorful sushi that smells faintly of seaweed and rice. Yamamoto breathes in deeply and smiles, because the scent of sushi always reminds him of his father.
He looks up to see that Hibari has crossed his arms over his chest and is looking away, brow furrowed in annoyance. But he hasn’t drawn out his tonfa yet, so Yamamoto takes it as a good sign. He picks up a pair of chopsticks and holds them out across the table in offering. “Here, try some. It’s really good. Promise.” He smiles.
Hibari turns his head to look at him, and he still has his lips drawn into a taunt line, and the frown of disapproval is still there…but he finally reaches out and snags the chopsticks from Yamamoto’s open palms. He looks down at the bento for a moment as if deciding which rice-filled delicacy is worth his attention.
Tsuyoshi’s famous sushi is hard to resist even for someone as picky as Hibari. Yamamoto smiles as he thinks this and watches Hibari’s eyes scan the layers of tightly wrapped rolls.
It surprises him how fascinating it is to see Hibari like this. The way Hibari holds the chopsticks in his hands, the way he brings the food to his lips, and then chews. It’s the chewing that has caught his attention the most. Because Hibari works his jaw in a forward motion, and his teeth clamp down and faintly chatter with each bite. There’s barely any movement of the jaw, and somehow it makes him seem delicate and more refined than himself, who chews with his mouth open and inbetween laughs. He’s always eating with Tsuna and Gokudera, and their meals take place amongst laughter and talk, and there is rarely a silent moment among them. But Hibari chews like he does not have time to waste on talking, as if he’s used to the solitude of his lunch hour.
For some reason, Yamamoto finds that sad. He’s always known that Hibari is the type that prefers to be left alone, but the idea of him sitting here by himself everyday at lunch, when most would gather and eat with friends, is something that Yamamoto cannot quite accept. It makes him glad that Hibari is letting him stay, even if its just because of the temptation of good sushi.
“Why are you staring at me?” Hibari asks as he looks at him from across the table.
Yamamoto laughs. “No reason.”
“Then stop.”
“Now, now.” He takes out a second pair of chopsticks and takes some food for himself. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Be quiet. I don’t like talking when I eat.” Hibari watches him for a moment before selecting another piece of sushi. He bites into it after dipping it in soy sauce and chews slowly. After a moment he nods an agreement and reaches for another piece.
Yamamoto just smiles and grabs a salmon roll.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
The next day Yamamoto comes back again, and Hibari is there in the reception room, but this time he isn’t sitting at the desk. He’s standing by the large window looking down on the front yard of Namimori Middle with his arms crossed over his chest and his black jacket swung over his shoulders. He looks up when Yamamoto comes into the room, holding up a bento box in greeting and a wide grin upon his lips.
“I brought lunch again,” he says as he walks up to the desk, places the bento on it, and pulls up an extra chair.
“I’m not hungry.” Hibari looks back out the window.
“Oh c’mon, I brought some more of the calamari rolls. I noticed you seemed to like those the other day.” In fact, he’d eaten almost all of the calamari rolls his father had prepared. “I brought some different types to try too.” He began to unload the top and the smell of fresh sushi wavered through the air.
Hibari continued to look out the window for a moment longer before slowly closing his eyes. He seemed to weigh something in his mind before finally opening his eyes and moving to sit down in his chair. “Give me the chopsticks.” He held out an open palm toward Yamamoto.
Smiling in satisfaction, Yamamoto compiles by placing the eating utensils into the outstretched palm. Yamamoto watches as Hibari looks down at the food before selecting one of the calamari rolls and taking it between the chopsticks. He smiles because he’s found something that Hibari likes other than fighting and he feels a sense of pride in that accomplishment.
He reaches for his own share of the food and they eat in silence. The only noise that fills the room is the sound of their chewing and the euphony of their movements. Yamamoto leans back in his chair as he eats, surprised at how easily they sit without talking in this comfortable quiet. He is so use to the argumentative Gokudera or worried Tsuna that it is almost unusual to share the same space with someone without filling the distance with laugher or some other noise. There’s a calm to it, a peacefulness that Yamamoto never expected. And as he looks over at Hibari and watches him, he thinks he understands him a little bit better. Even though his tongue itches with questions he’d like to ask, a yearning to understand him even more, he keeps silent because this is the way that Hibari likes it.
Instead he watches.
Hibari’s eyes are partially closed as he eats, almost as if he is trying to savor the taste that fills his mouth with each bite. When he chews he does it with the same concentration in which he fights-even the way he holds the chopsticks poised in his hands screams of his strength, his focus, his resolve.
Yamamoto finds himself mesmerized by the sight because it reminds him of the Shigure Soen Ryu; the flawless and invincible swordsmanship that must be mastered with every fiber of the wielder’s being. He imagines this is just how Hibari is-that he is flawless and invincible because he refuses anything less than perfection to achieve his goals. Others may consider it a short-sighted and temperamental trait, but Yamamoto can see it as something entirely else. In a lot of ways, he felt like he could relate.
“Is there something on my face?”
Yamamoto looks up, lips parted and half-chewed food still in his mouth. “Huh?”
“You’re staring at me.” Hibari points out, a single slender eyebrow arching.
Chewing and then swallowing, Yamamoto laughs. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking that this is the first time we’ve ever eaten together like this.”
“I don’t like others crowding me.” He set down the chopsticks on the table, signaling that he is done-both with eating and explaining.
“But its nice, isn’t it? I mean, not eating alone everyday?”
“The company of others is not something I require, Yamamoto Takeshi.” Hibari looks at the clock hanging over the entranceway to the reception room and then smirks as he turns his gaze back to Yamamoto. “Lunch is almost over. If you aren’t back to class in time I’m going to have to bite you to death.”
Yamamoto laughs and nods his head. “Now, now. I’ll get going.” He cleans up the bento as Hibari leans back in his chair and looks away.
“Cream cheese.”
Yamamoto looks over at Hibari as the last of the lunch is put away. “Huh?”
“Next time, put cream cheese in the calamari rolls.”
His lips curl into a smile that lights his face and he nods. “Sure!”
For a brief moment he wonders if its strange that he’s so happy just because there will be a next time.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
It happens the next day and then the day after that.
Yamamoto brings sushi, onigiri, and even soba noodles. Everyday at the same time he shows up at the reception room at the beginning of lunch and Hibari is waiting for him there-sometimes he is sitting at the desk, or the window, or the couch-but he is always there. One day he even has green tea waiting for them, warm to the touch and freshly made right before the bell rings for lunch. And for this one week, they make a routine of their silent lunches. Yamamoto found himself anticipating each lunch hour and the meal they would spend together-and it was fun to try and figure out the different dishes that Hibari liked. He had even gotten to the point where he could tell the way Hibari favored one type of food over the other by the way he chewed-fast to get rid of it or slow to savor it.
It was almost like a game.
He even started to wake up early and make the meals with his father, and never once did his father question why he was making so much food for lunch or ask him why he wanted to know about different recipes that would go well with Hibari’s favorite brand of green tea. Tsuyoshi just smiles and squeezes his son’s shoulder before he leaves each morning, as if he knows something that Yamamoto doesn’t quite grasp.
The bell is about to ring for lunch and Yamamoto eyes the wrapped bento box. It’s Friday and the last day before Tsuna and Gokudera return to school from the class trip. He wonders if things will go back to the way they were or if this will be his last quiet meal with Hibari. The thought that this may really be the last day twists a knot in his stomach and makes him tap his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk. He’s surprised at the enjoyment of these last few days; learning to understand Hibari better, trying to master him like the sword style that his father taught him.
He sighs as he pushes those thoughts away when the bell rings and its time for lunch. If only for this one hour he’ll forget about Monday and the change it may bring.
He tucks the bento underneath his arm and heads toward the reception room with a jump in his step as he takes the stairs two at a time. The door is unlocked and waiting for him just as it has been for the last four days, and Yamamoto does not hesitate when he opens it. “Hey Hiba-“ He stops when he steps inside and sees Hibari laying stretched out on the sofa, shoes discarded and socked feet curled up on the cushions. From here Yamamoto can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the slight part of his lips as the other boy sleeps.
His eyes blink and his mind goes blank because he’s never seen Hibari so…relaxed. He’s just laying there and his face has lost any trace of frown or scowl, and he looks comfortable, peaceful, almost tranquil.
Yamamoto wonders if he has ever seen Hibari look like that before.
He steps forward while trying to remain as quiet as possible. He doesn’t want to wake the sleeping boy, but he can’t turn away either. Something is drawing him forward, to gaze more closely at the figure in his slumber. The bento box finds it way to the table and Yamamoto stands in front of the sofa and looks down at Hibari. He hasn’t moved yet and the breathing is steady as ever, telling Yamamoto that he hasn’t disturbed his sleep.
“Wow…” he breathes just above a whisper. He never noticed how pretty Hibari looked before. Stripped from the irritation and anger that always seems to be so clear upon his face, Hibari looks like a completely different person. He has an attractiveness that is both delicate, sensual, and strong. Maybe it’s because he knows what Hibari is capable of, that he can be so fierce at a moment’s notice, that heightens an awareness in Yamamoto that makes his heart beat faster when he sees this vulnerable side to him.
Hibari’s bangs are just covering his eyes and Yamamoto can imagine him waking and brushing them away with a swipe of his hand. He moves his hand even though he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. His fingertips move just over the top of Hibari’s head and then-more daring-he actually touches the soft strands. They are so black and so soft in feel against his touch, and he can’t help but want to run his fingers down the side of Hibari’s face and look into those eyes.
Yamamoto wonders why this makes his stomach twist in knots.
He chews against his lip and considers doing more, but then Hibari’s eyes snap open and they narrow dangerous close.
“Why are you crowding me?” Hibari smacks away Yamamoto’s hand and sits up in a blink of movement. His lips draw into a taunt line as he stands and within a split second his tonfa are drawn and he’s swinging them upward, aiming directly for Yamamoto’s head without a trace of hesitation.
Yamamoto barely gets a chance to duck out of the way and he can feel the slight brush of steel against his hair. “Now now, Hibari, I didn’t mean to make you upset but that’s no reason to hit me.”
“Why were you touching me?” Hibari asks through a growl. He isn’t trying to hit him again, but he hasn’t put down his tonfa either.
“I-I, umm…”
I wanted to touch you.
But he knows he can’t say that because then Hibari really will bite him to death. So instead he laughs and brushes off the question. “I was just trying to wake you up.”
Hibari’s eyes narrow and he looks at him with jaw firmly set, and Yamamoto briefly wonders if he will be chewed quickly or slowly whenever he’s bitten to death.
But instead of doing that, Hibari puts away the tonfa and turns his back on him. “Go crowd with the other herbivores. I don’t want you here.”
“But Hibari-“
“Don’t come back.”
Yamamoto sighs because there is a finality in Hibari’s voice that tells him there is no room for argument.
Their quiet lunches are over.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
He couldn’t concentrate.
“Yamamoto! Your swing is too late.”
He sighs and nods as he hears his coach’s voice from the sidelines. His grip on the wooden bat tightens as he clenches his fingers and forces himself to concentrate. Ahead of him the pitcher winds back his arm and stretches out his body, and in a flash the white-stitched baseball is hurdled right toward him.
And Yamamoto remembers the white-knuckled grip of Hibari’s fingers around the hilt of his tonfa-he swings and the ball goes sailing pass him.
He straightens up and taps the bottom of the bat against the ground, his lips frowning. “Sorry coach, I guess I’m just having an off day.” He calls out as he adjusts his cap and wipes sweat from his brow. He wets his lips with his tongue, the taste of salt is bitter on his taste buds. The flashes of Hibari’s image in his head make concentration impossible and even baseball, his most beloved sport, is blemished.
His coach comes up and claps him on the back. “It’s okay Yamamoto, everyone has off days. Go ahead and call it quits for today.”
Yamamoto smiles, but the smile does not quite reach his eyes. “Sure, I bet I’ll be good as new tomorrow.” He laughs and brushes off his horrible day of practice with a smile that is enough to convince his coach and fellow team mates that it means nothing.
But it means everything.
Baseball is something he loves. The only thing more important to him than baseball is his friends, but his friends aren’t in trouble and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be able to concentrate during practice. It’s hard to admit, but its obvious that yesterday’s argument with Hibari won’t leave his mind. He still remembers how peaceful Hibari looked when sleeping, and how angry he became when he found him hovering over him, fingertips pressed just above his jaw line.
Yamamoto swings his equipment bag over one shoulder and walks across the campus. It’s Saturday and the school’s grounds are empty except for the last of the baseball team members.
He looks up as he walks by the front of the main building, and almost instantly his eyes focus on the large windows of the reception room. It’s the weekend and surely even Hibari has better things to do then hang out at school-but he still looks anyway and when he sees the flutter of curtains his heart begins to race…but then he realizes the window has only been left open and the breeze is the only thing disrupting the empty room.
“Damn Takeshi,” he chides himself. “Get a grip.”
He takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, and then replaces it. At this point its only too obvious why he can’t stop thinking about Hibari and why even his famous home run hitting swing is messed up. He never would have thought it possible, but now he knows for sure-there’s no doubting the fact that he likes Hibari Kyouya.
But now what was he going to do about it?
Yamamoto sighs, wondering just that.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Tsuna and Gokudera are back next week. They all sit together at lunch again, but for Yamamoto it doesn’t feel quite the same. The cafeteria is crowded and bustling, and he’s looking down at the untouched bento as he absently listens to the conversation beside him. Normally they would eat on the roof but its raining today and they have been forced inside. Normally he finds the sound of rain soothing, but today he cannot find the calm in it.
The bento is just too big for only him, but somehow he can’t make himself share the contents inside.
“Yamamoto-are you okay?”
He blinks as he hears Tsuna’s voice and looks up to smile at his friend. “Ahaha, yeah I’m fine!”
“Tch, just ignore that baseball idiot, Tenth.” Gokudera says as he leans over the table.
Tsuna’s disapproving look silences Gokudera from continuing onto another insult. He looks back at Yamamoto and his concern is genuine. “Are you sure? You’ve been really quiet and you haven’t even eaten.”
Yamamoto leans back and rubs his hair with both of his hands. “I guess I’m just not very hungry.” Tsuna doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push it any further either. “Maybe I’ll stop by the nurse’s office. I might be getting sick.” He laughs it off and pushes back his chair as he stands. He just wants to get out of here and this suffocating place. He can’t breathe here, he can’t do anything but think about wanting to be with Hibari and their comfortable silence.
Tsuna starts to get up. “I’ll go with you.”
“Nah, that’s okay Tsuna.”
“But if you’re not feeling well-“
Gokudera tries to get Tsuna’s attention. “If the baseball idiot says he’s fine then you don’t need to worry about him, Tenth.”
“Gokudera is right, Tsuna. I’ll be fine.” He smiles as Tsuna sits back down. “I’ll see you guys back in class.”
“Be careful Yamamoto.” Tsuna’s words are more of a warning then a request. He knows something is wrong and Yamamoto is grateful for that he does not take it further.
He pushes in his chair and hurries out of the cafeteria before anything else can stop him. Lunch has only just begun and everyone is sequestered inside so the hallways are clear as he walks.
He doesn’t know why he decides to go upstairs but he isn’t surprised when he stops in front of the reception room instead of the nurse’s office. What if Hibari is waiting for him? Didn’t he always spend his lunchtime here? But when he pulls back the door the room is dark. It’s lunchtime and Hibari should have been here, but he’s not.
Don’t come back.
He couldn’t have been serious…
Yamamoto sighs as he looks across the curtain drawn room. Outside he can hear the peal of rain against the window pane.
It feels terribly lonely in this room.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
School is over, practice is cancelled because of the weather, and still Yamamoto is there. He didn’t know what he hoped for when he said goodbye to Tsuna and Gokudera with the lame excuse of returning inside for a book. Even as he walked the corridors he couldn’t help but hope to be stopped by a certain prefect for wandering campus grounds after hours.
It is deadly silent except for the pounding rain against the windows and the bursts of lightning that shake the sky with a flash of light.
Yamamoto frowns as he steps before the class room door and slides it open. He feels his heart racing as he looks up across the room to where his seat is in the far corner and sees Hibari half sitting against the top of his desk. Hibari’s arms are folded across his chest and his eyes are gazing out the rain smeared window. Yamamoto knows exactly what he’s staring at because he’s looked out that window himself time and time again; it’s the baseball field, just the corner of it, that’s visible from his seat with its lush green grass and well manicured lawn. There have been so many days where he sat in that very seat and let his mind wander to that field as he remembered the feel of the baseball in his hands, the bat in his grip, and the strength of the earth pushing back against his feet.
But now Hibari’s there and Yamamoto wonders what he sees.
“Yo Hibari.” He steps into the room, adjusting the strap of his bag that’s flung across his shoulder and willing the rapid beat of his heart to still. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.” But he had hoped.
Hibari looks up and if he’s surprised to see him here it doesn’t show on his face. “I’ve been thinking…” He leans back a little bit more and Yamamoto can hear the shift of the desk as he adjusts his weight. “I don’t understand you.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Yamamoto moves forward, until he’s close enough to see Hibari more clearly. The other boy’s expression is blank, unreadable, without even a scowl to signal a clue.
“I don’t understand your actions or why you insist on crowding around others or hiding the killing intent I can feel inside of you.” Hibari’s eyes look back out the window as another flash of lightning ignites the sky. “Why did you touch me without permission?”
Yamamoto digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks at Hibari, at those dark eyes that are searching for some sort of answer-some sort of understanding. Yamamoto doesn’t know what to say, but the truth, perhaps, is the best option. “I like you.”
Now the emotionless face is gone as Hibari’s eyes narrow and he stands up straight. “What do you mean Yamamoto Takeshi?” He’s on guard, and Yamamoto knows he needs to choose his words carefully.
So he smiles, because it’s the only thing he knows how to do to ease the tension that’s suffocating the air between them. “I like you, Hibari. I want to spend time with you, I want to get to know you. I even want to touch you, if you’ll let me.”
Those dark eyes are considering him, and their heavy gaze makes Yamamoto feel uncomfortable as he shifts pressure between the heels of his shoes.
“I’m not a woman.”
“I never thought you were.”
“Then why are you treating me like one?” Hibari’s arms drop, and his fingers clench into fists at his side, and Yamamoto can feel the tension in the air rising. Outside the storm is growing more fierce as wind howls against the windows and shake the panes.
It almost sounds like chattering teeth.
“Did I?” He rubs the back of his head and smiles. “I didn’t mean to if I did. I just saw you laying there and you looked so cute, and I couldn’t help myself from wanting to touch you. I told you Hibari, I like you. When you like someone you want to touch them.”
“Is that so?” A single slender eyebrow rises and a smirk pulls at Hibari’s lips as he steps forward and closes the distance between them. He moves so quickly that Yamamoto inhales a sharp intake of air when their bodies mesh against one another, and Hibari’s warmth is against his chest and he can feel the heat of his breath against the open collar of his uniform. “Like this Yamamoto Takeshi? Is this how you want to touch me? Like those boys and girls I find hiding in dark corridors or empty classrooms in my school?”
Yamamoto isn’t sure if Hibari is teasing him or serious, but the tightening in his pants is a reality he cannot deny.
Then he felt the cold steel tip of the tonfa pressed against his stomach.
“I don’t like it when people crowd me.” Hibari says, the cadence of his words against his flesh like a tingle down Yamamoto’s spine. “I like it even less when useless people aggravate me. Stay away from me, Yamamoto Takeshi, unless you want to be bitten to death.”
Yamamoto knows the threat is real. Hibari has never been the type to talk idly and he knows that this time is no exception. When this moment passes, there will not be another chance, because Hibari is already pushing him away before anything has begun.
The heavy and dull ache is more than Yamamoto expects, and his eyes lose their light, his lips frowning. “Hibari…” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. Hibari’s eyes look at him questioningly and he prepares to push him aside, but before he can move away, Yamamoto leans into the tonfa and presses their lips together.
It surprises Yamamoto how soft Hibari’s lips are, how easily they widen as his tongue licks the clamped space between them. Hibari’s mouth is warm and tastes of green tea. He can feel Hibari’s teeth clatter against his own when the other boy gives into the press of their lips; Hibari’s kiss both instinctive and clumsy. The light chew he feels on his bottom lip is so different from the way he watched him chew during those lunch hours; this act of mastication is pulsating with need.
The heat of their panting breathes is intoxicating and Yamamoto slips his arms around Hibari’s slender waist-but then Hibari’s tonfa slams into his side hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs and make him double-over in burning pain. When Yamamoto looks up from the ground, Hibari is standing over him with his weapon at his side and his lips drawn in a taunt line, a faint shimmer of their kiss still coating the delicate skin.
Hibari opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Instead teeth are clenched together, and Yamamoto can see the straight line of his jaw and the way the enamels must be rubbing against each other in a grating fashion. The air has come back into his lungs, but they still burn and the pit of his stomach aches, but even more so his heart is racing so fast that it feels as if it could penetrate his chest.
He can tell just by one look that Hibari is on the verge of leaving.
“Don’t go.” Yamamoto says as he pushes himself back to his feet. The confusion is painfully clear on Hibari’s face, as if he doesn’t understand his own actions and reactions. The other boy looks away, flushed and flustered even though he tries-is angry.
Yamamoto reaches up a hand to place along the side of that turned away face and smiles. “I like you.” It is his explanation, his answer for all that is between them, the only way he knows how to explain to Hibari just how he feels. He doesn’t have the knowledge and words like Gokudera or the cute innocence of Tsuna-the only thing he has is his honesty. It is the only thing he knows that he can give Hibari.
He brushes fingertips along the side of Hibari’s face and into the surprisingly soft black hair. For a moment it feels as if Hibari leans the weight of his face into his palm and a slight softness builds in the depth of those dark eyes. But the moment is brief, and almost as swiftly as it occurs, it ends when Hibari smacks his arm away. A shadow descends over what little tender emotion is there, and all that remains is the grit of teeth.
Hibari turns his head away, his gaze locked on the doorway, on the exit, on a way out of this situation. He opens his mouth, the desire to speak palpable in the air around them, but it seems as if he isn’t quite sure how to form the words he wishes to say, so instead he chooses to close his mouth and walk away.
The door slams close.
Yamamoto runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Oh man…” he mumbles. “Did I push too far?”
It’s painfully obvious that he did.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
The next day the rain is coming down harder.
The water thumps like pebbles against Yamamoto’s umbrella as he walks along the sidewalks toward Namimori Middle, the sky churning a gray and black that cloaks the day in mild darkness. All throughout the night the rain had come in a downpour that shook the skies and rattled the windows of his house. Yamamoto spent hours sitting up in bed, looking out his window and watching the sparks of lightning that would momentarily ignite the sky with a light that let him see for miles. But the shine was brief, fleeting, and soon everything was once again bathed in darkness.
The night left him feeling both empty and alone.
Morning brought no solace to the thoughts that drifted through his mind even during slumber. Everywhere, Hibari is filling every corner of his mind. Like a cloud that descends over the sun, Yamamoto’s thoughts were consumed by the dark haired boy and every mistake he made along the way. He remembers so vividly the warmth of Hibari’s skin against his hands, the taste of his mouth pressed against his lips, the slight pant of breathes that filled the silence where words became useless.
Yamamoto wonders if its stupid of him to hope that there is still a chance.
But he also knows that Hibari is a person that will not be bound or caged by anyone, including himself. Perhaps, he wonders, some semblance of a relationship is beyond their grasp.
“But I still want to try.” The words leave his mouth echoless and pitiful, chasing a deep breath that rattles his lips.
Yamamoto can only remember one other time when he felt so hopeless. He wants to laugh when he remembers, because as desperate as that time had seemed back then he knows everything is different. Now there is a reason for living-and hurting-that will keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.
But it doesn’t make the pain of dealing with this moment easier.
A flash of yellow in front of his eyes snaps him from his reprieve and Yamamoto blinks as Hibird comes into focus in front of him. Hibird flies around his head, splaying water droplets into his face with each flap of tiny wings.
He lets a small smile fall onto his lips and lighten his eyes as much as it hurts at first. Hibird reminds Yamamoto that there are delicate things that Hibari likes-aside from fighting, strength, calamari rolls, and pushing him away.
“Hibari! Hibari!” The tiny bird chants.
Yamamoto looks around, half expecting the prefect to be near by. He bites the inside of his lip when he realizes that no one is there but him and the small yellow fluff. He can’t help but be amazed at the crush of disappointment he feels.
“Don’t you know it’s raining, Hibird? Shouldn’t you be inside with Hibari?” Yamamoto smiles and tilts the umbrella forward so they are both sheltered under its width as the bird flies circles around his head.
“Yamamoto Takeshi! Yamamoto Takeshi!” The bird chants in his small song before landing upon his shoulder and shaking feathers that splash water into his hair.
“Haha, you learned my name, huh?” Yamamoto smiles, unable to stop the slight turn of lips and squint of eyes. He thinks it’s a nice thought that maybe Hibari taught him-or that he was at least around enough that Hibird picked up his name on his own.
“Nami~mori,” the bird continues to chirp into his ear.
“Yup, that’s where we’re going.” The school is just within sight and with the downpour of rain there are no people milling about the front of the building in crowds that would be quickly dispersed by a prefect he knows very well. A crack of thunder ignites the sky and Yamamoto wonders whether Hibari is waiting just within the doors of the building to horde off any possibility of congregation-but then he sees the groups of people talking near the entrance as they shake off coats and remove boots, and its very obvious that it isn’t the case.
“Hibari! Hibari!” The small bird alights from his shoulder and swirls around under the cover of the umbrella. “Hibari! Hibari!” The chant continues until Hibird, almost as if tired of explaining, drifts out from the shade and into the pouring rain. He circles higher and higher, the drastic call almost a shriek, before it takes off into the sky toward the rooftops of Namimori Middle.
“What was that about?” Yamamoto says as he tilts back his umbrella and stares up toward the fence lined way where Hibird disappeared.
Yamamoto looks up and thinks about all the meals he has shared together with his friends in that place and all the times he had snuck in to gaze at the beautiful sunset after practice. He knows he isn’t the only one who has fond memories or finds refuge inside those walls with the open sky.
Hibari! Hibari!
It hits him like a foul ball out of left field and Yamamoto only takes a second to think about it before he jogs through the front doors of Namimori Middle and runs down the locker-lined hallways he knows so well.
When he pushes open the door leading to the rooftop he sees Hibird first, wings flapping madly against the rain, as he dances above a set of slender fingertips that reach out to allow the bird a resting perch.
Hibari is sprawled out on the pavement, one hand clasped behind his head and eyes closed. He’s soaking wet; black hair heavy and matted against his face, white shirt stained through so that his pale skin is just a perceptible film under the fabric.
The slight change in easing breathes tells Yamamoto that Hibari knows he’s not alone even if he doesn’t turn toward him, but Hibird is the one to break the silence with an announcement.
“Yamamoto Takeshi! Yamamoto Takeshi!” The bird alights from Hibari’s fingertips and flutters through the air to him and the shelter of his umbrella, while Hibari’s hand falls down upon his chest.
The sound of rain pelting against the concrete rooftop fills the growing silence, until Yamamoto steps forward and Hibari speaks.
“Yamamoto Takeshi.” His eyes open but they look up into the pouring sky and briefly Yamamoto wonders if the rain makes Hibari think of him. “Leave.”
“It’s raining.” He adjusts the umbrella that shelters him from the downpour. The air between them is heavy with the scent of fresh waterfall.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Hibari continues without notice to the obviousness that Yamamoto is pointing out.
Hibari reaches out a hand toward the sky, and the rain droplets fall onto his outstretched fingers and run down the length of his arm. His lips are parted ever so slightly, glistening droplets lingering atop soft pink lips and through dark hair. They glide and coast along the smooth surface and Yamamoto imagines the feel of that skin against his own touch.
If only he were an extension of the rain itself…if only he could feel the softness of that skin tingling against his fingertips.
His breath catches in his lungs, igniting a burning deep beneath the walls of his chest. He decides right in this moment that he has been a fool all along. Never once has he given up, whether it comes to learning baseball or mastering swordsmanship-and he is not about to give up on gaining Hibari Kyouya as part of his life.
If he gives up so easily…then maybe he never did deserve to have someone like Hibari in his life.
Yamamoto’s smile is fond and warm as he steps forward and leans over Hibari, blocking out the rain.
Blinking, Hibari stares up at him.
Yamamoto reaches down and takes that outstretched hand and their fingers slide together, easy and gentle from the slick of water.
“Hey Hibari, let me keeping trying. I want to keep guessing what your favorite foods are and the things you like-the things that make you happy other then fighting and this school. I know I made you mad but I think I can make you happy too, if you give me a chance.” He holds the handle of the umbrella a little firmer as the rain that rushes around them. “I won’t rush you. I just want to get to know you. And when you’re ready to let me, I’d really like to hold you and kiss you.”
“I tried to forget about you, but I realized I can’t-I like you and that’s not something I want to just give up and forget about.” Yamamoto says with a smile filled with all his insecurities, doubt, but mostly with his love and affection. He looks down and watches Hibari, waiting for some sort of signal or response.
When he notices the water sliding down the side of Hibari’s face, he can’t be sure if its tears or the rain.
But the smile is indisputable.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Spring is coming.
Yamamoto can feel the change in the air, in the smell of sakura that blossom and their pink petals that are just waking from enclosed slumber. The morning sun is warm and the rainy days of weeks ago have passed, bathing the world in a replenishing new day.
He adjusts his shoulder bag and smiles when he approaches Namimori Middle. Just as the school comes into sight he can make out Tsuna’s head of spiked brown hair and Gokudera’s tangles of gray.
“Yo Tsuna!” Yamamoto calls out as he waves out his arm in greeting. He jogs to catch up to Tsuna and Gokudera in front of the school, all smiles and grins.
“Good morning, Yamamoto!” Tsuna smiles.
“Tch, you’re too noisy baseball freak.” Gokudera grumbles as he drops his cigarette on the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He jams his hands into the pockets of his pants and mutters underneath his breath.
Yamamoto laughs, ignoring Gokudera’s foul mood. “Morning Gokudera!”
“Whatever,” the other boy mumbles as he leads the way into the school.
Yamamoto smiles and walks with Gokudera and Tsuna as they pass through the gates of Namimori Middle. Here the feel of spring is palpable with the bubbling of conversation, the warmth of the sun, and the bright colors of blossoming flowers. It brings a happiness that settles atop his heart and lights his eyes as he absently listens to the conversation between Tsuna and Gokudera.
His eyes drift around the campus and he catches sight of a lone figure leaning against the wall of the building. Hibari’s arms are crossed over his chest and Yamamoto smiles when Hibari’s gaze flickers upward through the haze of black hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. For a brief moment his lips spread in the smallest of smiles and Yamamoto can see the press of white teeth, a warmth that anyone else would easily miss.
Yamamoto returns the gesture with his own teeth gritted into a grin as he holds up a wrapped bento box.
It’s a bento big enough for two.