Dream • Storm Rising
"Don't touch me!" a small voice protested, little shoes dragging along the floor, trying in vain to slow down the rough escort leading back out of the house. It was a fruitless effort because ten year old Gokudera Hayato is no match for an adult, especially when the guy was as thick and tall as he was stupid, easily three times the boy's size.
Even though the angered and very embarrassed Gokudera is slinging harmless, PG-rated insults at the armed muscle, the jerk doesn't even take him seriously. Instead, he laughed off the shrill cries of "you stupid monkey!" and "stinking pig" like Gokudera is actually saying something that's meant to be funny, rather than preserving what little is left of his dignity with token resistance.
But he's gone through this dance enough to know it doesn't matter. He can make it easier on himself and let his body sag in resignation and brace himself for the shove back out through the door or Gokudera can be cast out fighting. It's a battle he won't win, but the boy still goes for option number two, because saving face is everything in the mafia, and as humiliating as it is to be turned down and written off as a silly kid, Gokudera Hayato is no weakling.
They called him a crazy kid, called him a bastard and half-breed. When he realized the game was up and he was just going to be turned away again, Gokudera took action. He fumbled to light one of the sticks of dynamite he had shoved in his pockets - damnit his thumb was always slipping on the Bic, and he was promptly cut off by the big oaf currently dragging him back the way he came; this time round Gokudera is frowning at the unnecessary tall ceilings, scowling at the fine rugs he digs his heels into, all the hope and childish optimism gone again.
Why did he ever think this time would be any different?
Because it had to be!
"You haven't seen the last of Gokudera Haya--" he began, but was cut off by his own tripping. His shorter legs fell out of stride with the bigger man walking him along, and when he jerked his arm to prevent a fall, the other man released it.
Gokudera stumbled to the floor with a painful gasp, then half a dozen unlit bombs hit the floor as well and went rolling.
His face burned and Gokudera scrambled to collect them, but the grunt's hand was at his elbow, dragging him back to his feet, forcing him to leave the weapons behind.
"You stupid cow!" Gokudera exclaimed in his immature fury, earning another chuckle.
"You got nerve, kid. I'll give you that."
"Keep laughing, idiot. I'll end you!" Gokudera growled, his voice squeaking with emotion and pre-pubescence.
"Hahaha. Sure, kid. Whatever you say."
There was nothing worse than not being taken seriously. Gokudera couldn't stand it, even if he was ten and homeless and without family. He could blow things up and he wouldn't hesitate to resort to his brand of cursing - which was about as ineffective. He was trying to school his face to look threatening. He gave this thug his best scowl.
"Eh?" A bushy brow raised as they reached the foyer. "Oh, is that supposed to be scary? Hahahahaha! Kid, you really are too much."
"Screw you!" Gokudera lashed out with, and threw in a kick for good measure, face teaming with shame and anger. But honestly it probably hurt his foot more than the goon's tree trunk of a leg.Then his heated face and stinking breath came down to Gokudera's level, and the boy couldn't help flinching away a bit.
"Let me give you some advice, kid. Don't come back if you want to walk out of here. Boss's orders."
"I won't be back! Why would I want to join a pack of hyenas like you?" Gokudera retorted, feeling bad ass in his last stand.
The guy just grabbed him by his too-long hair, guffawing as Gokudera cried out at the pain - seriously, this kid, and shoved him hard through the open door.
[Gokudera awoke before his dream-self hit the ground, sweating beneath the ends of his hair. Cursing under his breath, he sat up bed and scrambled to shove open the hotel room window. He needed a cigarette bad]
Even though the angered and very embarrassed Gokudera is slinging harmless, PG-rated insults at the armed muscle, the jerk doesn't even take him seriously. Instead, he laughed off the shrill cries of "you stupid monkey!" and "stinking pig" like Gokudera is actually saying something that's meant to be funny, rather than preserving what little is left of his dignity with token resistance.
But he's gone through this dance enough to know it doesn't matter. He can make it easier on himself and let his body sag in resignation and brace himself for the shove back out through the door or Gokudera can be cast out fighting. It's a battle he won't win, but the boy still goes for option number two, because saving face is everything in the mafia, and as humiliating as it is to be turned down and written off as a silly kid, Gokudera Hayato is no weakling.
They called him a crazy kid, called him a bastard and half-breed. When he realized the game was up and he was just going to be turned away again, Gokudera took action. He fumbled to light one of the sticks of dynamite he had shoved in his pockets - damnit his thumb was always slipping on the Bic, and he was promptly cut off by the big oaf currently dragging him back the way he came; this time round Gokudera is frowning at the unnecessary tall ceilings, scowling at the fine rugs he digs his heels into, all the hope and childish optimism gone again.
Why did he ever think this time would be any different?
Because it had to be!
"You haven't seen the last of Gokudera Haya--" he began, but was cut off by his own tripping. His shorter legs fell out of stride with the bigger man walking him along, and when he jerked his arm to prevent a fall, the other man released it.
Gokudera stumbled to the floor with a painful gasp, then half a dozen unlit bombs hit the floor as well and went rolling.
His face burned and Gokudera scrambled to collect them, but the grunt's hand was at his elbow, dragging him back to his feet, forcing him to leave the weapons behind.
"You stupid cow!" Gokudera exclaimed in his immature fury, earning another chuckle.
"You got nerve, kid. I'll give you that."
"Keep laughing, idiot. I'll end you!" Gokudera growled, his voice squeaking with emotion and pre-pubescence.
"Hahaha. Sure, kid. Whatever you say."
There was nothing worse than not being taken seriously. Gokudera couldn't stand it, even if he was ten and homeless and without family. He could blow things up and he wouldn't hesitate to resort to his brand of cursing - which was about as ineffective. He was trying to school his face to look threatening. He gave this thug his best scowl.
"Eh?" A bushy brow raised as they reached the foyer. "Oh, is that supposed to be scary? Hahahahaha! Kid, you really are too much."
"Screw you!" Gokudera lashed out with, and threw in a kick for good measure, face teaming with shame and anger. But honestly it probably hurt his foot more than the goon's tree trunk of a leg.Then his heated face and stinking breath came down to Gokudera's level, and the boy couldn't help flinching away a bit.
"Let me give you some advice, kid. Don't come back if you want to walk out of here. Boss's orders."
"I won't be back! Why would I want to join a pack of hyenas like you?" Gokudera retorted, feeling bad ass in his last stand.
The guy just grabbed him by his too-long hair, guffawing as Gokudera cried out at the pain - seriously, this kid, and shoved him hard through the open door.
[Gokudera awoke before his dream-self hit the ground, sweating beneath the ends of his hair. Cursing under his breath, he sat up bed and scrambled to shove open the hotel room window. He needed a cigarette bad]