PART DEUX
02. Present.
Yamamoto didn’t move; he barely breathed. Had he really just…?
He felt something in his chest, something he would bet his life on felt exactly like a sword driving through his ribs. Gokudera was still looking at the floor and Yamamoto wished, for an instant, that he could read his mind. He wanted to know how Gokudera thought, how he really thought. It was easy enough to read him; Gokudera wore his emotions on his sleeve, even if he thought he was hiding them. But his thoughts were a mystery.
Nothing Gokudera did made sense to him. Yamamoto just didn’t understand.
“You… do?”
He watched Gokudera shift positions, breathe in heavily and exhale slowly. “I don’t know, okay? I thought… I was never sure, you know? It was weird. I know, I’m a freak, right?”
“I never-”
“It’s not like I don’t know that. Is it weird, liking your best friend? I had always respected him, yeah, but somewhere along the line I think it changed. Or something.”
“I don’t think it’s weird.”
Gokudera’s head shot up and he looked at him. Yamamoto could see the surprise in his eyes, on his face; for once, he could almost read his mind.
“And it’s not like you really know, right? And even if you did, Tsuna’s with Kyoko. So you can always like… move on or something.” Yamamoto almost winced; his voice sounded fake. But Gokudera didn’t say anything, just looked away again and shrugged. After another moment of silence, Yamamoto sighed.
“Hey.” He pulled his legs up onto the bed and moved over to sit next to Gokudera, who seemed even smaller than normal. Yamamoto had never really noticed the height difference before, truthfully; but now, with Gokudera sitting next to him, slouched over, hands clenched into knuckle-whitening fists, it was all too obvious. He blinked, surprised for a moment, before pushing away the thought and dropping a hand on top of his friend’s head. “Stop glaring at my carpet. It didn’t do anything to you.”
Gokudera’s face softened a bit, just a bit, but Yamamoto was used to catching the nuances of his expressions. “Don’t think on it too hard. It’ll make things worse.”
He ruffled Gokudera’s hair once, before his hand was swatted away and the hair being fixed. Yamamoto chuckled, and Gokudera glared.
“Yeah, yeah. I… don’t know. It’s weird telling you, of all people, this but…” He trailed off, gaze drifting up to the ceiling. Yamamoto watched his face, relaxed and not scowling, for once. “But, I dunno. I don’t think it hurt as much as it would’ve in the past. It was more like a… a dull ache, you know?”
Yamamoto nodded, but he only half heard the words Gokudera was saying. He had found himself distracted quite easily by the color of Gokudera’s eyes. A color that, Yamamoto decided, was quickly becoming his favorite.
Gokudera looked away from the ceiling at down at his hands. “God I feel like such a girl right now.”
This made Yamamoto laugh a bit, and he ruffled his friend’s hair for a second time. Gokudera glared at him, before standing up from the bed. “Hey, who’re all those people in your photos? I only recognize your dad and you, obviously.”
Yamamoto blinked, surprised; but he knew a subject change when he saw one. Shrugging, he stood up, before bending down by his bed. “Here, I’ve got more pictures in this album… geez, where’d I shove it…?” After rifling under his bed for a moment, he pulled out a dusty photo album. Dropping to his knees on the floor he brushed the cover off, and opened the book.
Gokudera blinked, before sitting down across from Yamamoto; he had made sure the album was facing in that direction, so Gokudera could see the pictures.
“That,” he said, pointing at one of the first pictures, “is my mom and dad. Back when they were younger, you know?” Gokudera frowned a bit, but didn’t saying anything. Yamamoto sighed softly, before turning the page. “She’s probably the woman you saw in the photos up there, right? And that’s my dad, back when he wasn’t old. We didn’t live here, then, at Takesushi, I mean. We lived in this house… I don’t really remember it, honestly.” He laughed a little bit. “But my dad says it was really pretty and stuff. We had a garden and everything.”
Gokudera ghosted his fingers over the photographs, eyes scanning the captured moments in time. Yamamoto wondered what he was thinking - at that point, it could’ve been anything.
“What happened to her? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her around,” Gokudera said after a moment. Yamamoto froze at the question; he should have known it was coming, but he still wasn’t expecting it. “Er - I mean, it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me!” he said suddenly, eyebrows pulled together. Yamamoto forced himself to smile and shook his head, but Gokudera was insistent. “No, seriously, Yamamoto, it’s cool.”
Shifting his attention back to the album, he pointed to a picture. “So who’s that kid?” Gokudera pointed to a picture of a baby, who was in the middle of shoving a flower into his mouth. “Doesn’t seem too bright.”
Yamamoto couldn’t help but laugh at that; Gokudera was always so amusing. “Who do you think? That’s me. I was probably, what, a year or so, then?”
A pause.
“That’s you? Geez, Yamamoto, what happened, you used to be cute!” he said with a laugh, looking at the other pictures. Yamamoto watched him, watched the way his hands - hands that should’ve been completely destroyed from all the dynamite, but were instead thin and small and delicate, if you didn’t know he could pack a punch - move over the pictures. He watched Gokudera’s eyelashes - which were light and just barely reflected the light - as they dusted against his cheek when he looked down. He watched the way some of his hair fell into his eyes, and he’d reach up to tuck it behind his ear absently.
Reaching out quickly, he grabbed at Gokudera’s wrist, causing him to look up. He didn’t look mad, or surprised, simply slightly confused and maybe the smallest bit annoyed. Yamamoto was close enough to see the bits of gold in his eyes, and he could safely say he didn’t really want to move.
“Can I-?” he started, cutting himself off. He knew his voice was softer than normal, and the expression on his face was probably confusing Gokudera even more. “Just once?”
Gokudera’s eyebrows pulled together, questioning. “What do you-?” He stopped short, eyes widening. He swallowed heavily, and didn’t say anything else. Yamamoto was frozen, waiting, and when Gokudera didn’t voice any outright complaints...
The space between them closed as Yamamoto moved forward, lightly pressing his lips against Gokudera’s. It was soft - barely a kiss - and questioning. He loosened his grip on Gokudera’s wrist, but held on. His eyes were still open, and so were Gokudera’s, and he knew this wasn’t how a kiss was supposed to be, so he pressed a little harder, a little more urgently, and when he saw Gokudera’s eyes closed, his own closed as well.
Yamamoto didn’t move; he barely breathed. Had he really just…?
He felt something in his chest, something he would bet his life on felt exactly like a sword driving through his ribs. Gokudera was still looking at the floor and Yamamoto wished, for an instant, that he could read his mind. He wanted to know how Gokudera thought, how he really thought. It was easy enough to read him; Gokudera wore his emotions on his sleeve, even if he thought he was hiding them. But his thoughts were a mystery.
Nothing Gokudera did made sense to him. Yamamoto just didn’t understand.
“You… do?”
He watched Gokudera shift positions, breathe in heavily and exhale slowly. “I don’t know, okay? I thought… I was never sure, you know? It was weird. I know, I’m a freak, right?”
“I never-”
“It’s not like I don’t know that. Is it weird, liking your best friend? I had always respected him, yeah, but somewhere along the line I think it changed. Or something.”
“I don’t think it’s weird.”
Gokudera’s head shot up and he looked at him. Yamamoto could see the surprise in his eyes, on his face; for once, he could almost read his mind.
“And it’s not like you really know, right? And even if you did, Tsuna’s with Kyoko. So you can always like… move on or something.” Yamamoto almost winced; his voice sounded fake. But Gokudera didn’t say anything, just looked away again and shrugged. After another moment of silence, Yamamoto sighed.
“Hey.” He pulled his legs up onto the bed and moved over to sit next to Gokudera, who seemed even smaller than normal. Yamamoto had never really noticed the height difference before, truthfully; but now, with Gokudera sitting next to him, slouched over, hands clenched into knuckle-whitening fists, it was all too obvious. He blinked, surprised for a moment, before pushing away the thought and dropping a hand on top of his friend’s head. “Stop glaring at my carpet. It didn’t do anything to you.”
Gokudera’s face softened a bit, just a bit, but Yamamoto was used to catching the nuances of his expressions. “Don’t think on it too hard. It’ll make things worse.”
He ruffled Gokudera’s hair once, before his hand was swatted away and the hair being fixed. Yamamoto chuckled, and Gokudera glared.
“Yeah, yeah. I… don’t know. It’s weird telling you, of all people, this but…” He trailed off, gaze drifting up to the ceiling. Yamamoto watched his face, relaxed and not scowling, for once. “But, I dunno. I don’t think it hurt as much as it would’ve in the past. It was more like a… a dull ache, you know?”
Yamamoto nodded, but he only half heard the words Gokudera was saying. He had found himself distracted quite easily by the color of Gokudera’s eyes. A color that, Yamamoto decided, was quickly becoming his favorite.
Gokudera looked away from the ceiling at down at his hands. “God I feel like such a girl right now.”
This made Yamamoto laugh a bit, and he ruffled his friend’s hair for a second time. Gokudera glared at him, before standing up from the bed. “Hey, who’re all those people in your photos? I only recognize your dad and you, obviously.”
Yamamoto blinked, surprised; but he knew a subject change when he saw one. Shrugging, he stood up, before bending down by his bed. “Here, I’ve got more pictures in this album… geez, where’d I shove it…?” After rifling under his bed for a moment, he pulled out a dusty photo album. Dropping to his knees on the floor he brushed the cover off, and opened the book.
Gokudera blinked, before sitting down across from Yamamoto; he had made sure the album was facing in that direction, so Gokudera could see the pictures.
“That,” he said, pointing at one of the first pictures, “is my mom and dad. Back when they were younger, you know?” Gokudera frowned a bit, but didn’t saying anything. Yamamoto sighed softly, before turning the page. “She’s probably the woman you saw in the photos up there, right? And that’s my dad, back when he wasn’t old. We didn’t live here, then, at Takesushi, I mean. We lived in this house… I don’t really remember it, honestly.” He laughed a little bit. “But my dad says it was really pretty and stuff. We had a garden and everything.”
Gokudera ghosted his fingers over the photographs, eyes scanning the captured moments in time. Yamamoto wondered what he was thinking - at that point, it could’ve been anything.
“What happened to her? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her around,” Gokudera said after a moment. Yamamoto froze at the question; he should have known it was coming, but he still wasn’t expecting it. “Er - I mean, it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me!” he said suddenly, eyebrows pulled together. Yamamoto forced himself to smile and shook his head, but Gokudera was insistent. “No, seriously, Yamamoto, it’s cool.”
Shifting his attention back to the album, he pointed to a picture. “So who’s that kid?” Gokudera pointed to a picture of a baby, who was in the middle of shoving a flower into his mouth. “Doesn’t seem too bright.”
Yamamoto couldn’t help but laugh at that; Gokudera was always so amusing. “Who do you think? That’s me. I was probably, what, a year or so, then?”
A pause.
“That’s you? Geez, Yamamoto, what happened, you used to be cute!” he said with a laugh, looking at the other pictures. Yamamoto watched him, watched the way his hands - hands that should’ve been completely destroyed from all the dynamite, but were instead thin and small and delicate, if you didn’t know he could pack a punch - move over the pictures. He watched Gokudera’s eyelashes - which were light and just barely reflected the light - as they dusted against his cheek when he looked down. He watched the way some of his hair fell into his eyes, and he’d reach up to tuck it behind his ear absently.
Reaching out quickly, he grabbed at Gokudera’s wrist, causing him to look up. He didn’t look mad, or surprised, simply slightly confused and maybe the smallest bit annoyed. Yamamoto was close enough to see the bits of gold in his eyes, and he could safely say he didn’t really want to move.
“Can I-?” he started, cutting himself off. He knew his voice was softer than normal, and the expression on his face was probably confusing Gokudera even more. “Just once?”
Gokudera’s eyebrows pulled together, questioning. “What do you-?” He stopped short, eyes widening. He swallowed heavily, and didn’t say anything else. Yamamoto was frozen, waiting, and when Gokudera didn’t voice any outright complaints...
The space between them closed as Yamamoto moved forward, lightly pressing his lips against Gokudera’s. It was soft - barely a kiss - and questioning. He loosened his grip on Gokudera’s wrist, but held on. His eyes were still open, and so were Gokudera’s, and he knew this wasn’t how a kiss was supposed to be, so he pressed a little harder, a little more urgently, and when he saw Gokudera’s eyes closed, his own closed as well.