(no subject)

[59]

[ The past few days flew by, and at the same time, dragged on reluctantly. After Thursday's events, Friday at school seemed constrained. With little time to process, let alone talk about what had happened between him and Yamamoto with Tenth (was he even going to talk about it with Tenth? was it necessary? —of course, they can't keep secrets from each other, but... but—), Gokudera was hesitant to make any status change remotely public. Actually, hesitant was putting it lightly: he took explicit care not to come too close to Yamamoto, to only sit on opposite sides of Tsuna when they had lunch on the roof, to casually turn (alright, straight up dart) down another hallway if he spotted that familiar, unruly black head of hair jutting above in a crowd of classmates, and to ignore Yamamoto when he broke his pencil in math class and asked if he had another one. Stupid fucking teacher, putting their seats next to each other. Besides, Tomoko-with-the-painfully-obvious-crush was quick to lean all the way across the aisle and lend him one. It had pink rabbits on it. Gokudera wanted to vomit in his mouth.

So, alright, none of that was particularly normal. He probably should have just played it cool. But if the evening prior held any evidence against him, then he lost his cool long ago. There he was, sending off mixed signals at a rapid, panicked pace, SOS, mayday, this isn't what I want! and then— it is what I want. That latter one was sent physically, rather than with words: first, when he let Yamamoto hold his hand while they walked to school Friday morning (up until they got within the critical radius of Tsuna's house, that is), and secondly, at the end of the day on Friday, when he backed Yamamoto into an empty corner and kissed him with his hands at his collar, and little ceremony about it.

The first time was to say: yes, everything that happened yesterday was real, I am still your boyfriend (and you are still mine), even if I'm scared something approaching shitless. That second time was to say: I ignored you for nearly eight hours straight, but that still doesn't negate the fact that I feel the way I feel. The words will come later. He's trying.

And even despite that, he let Yamamoto head off to practice and walked home with Tenth, who was waiting on the steps outside of the school, daydreaming. It turned out that Kyoko had stayed behind and chatted with him a bit while she waited for Ryohei to drop by and borrow some money for a dinner trip he and some wrestling clubmates were going to after school. The excitement that was on Tenth's face when he recounted the brief conversation touched Gokudera's heart in a particular way. At the time, he assumed the usual, that he just felt warmth at seeing Tsuna happy. But then, while he was walking back to his small apartment on his own, after having dinner with Tsuna and his family (and only fighting with Lambo once!), he realized it was because of something else— because he understood.

He almost bit off the butt of his cigarette at the realization, but then he had to scoff: was it really that surprising? Given how fast they were moving (how fast that he was moving them: Yamamoto was patient, gentle, soft; Gokudera was hasty and frantic and searching desperately for answers that couldn't be worked out with theory alone), it was apparent enough that he cared, that they both cared, mutually. Maybe that was the truly tough part. The physicality, he could work out: his head stopped hurting when Yamamoto kissed him. But why? But why? But why?

Like clockwork, his phone buzzed with a text: Yamamoto, long finished with practice and helping out his dad at the restaurant, asking if they were still on to meet at the arcade Saturday afternoon. By this point, Gokudera was jamming his key into his front door; distracted, it took several tries, until finally he had to back up and look at the apartment number in disbelief— thank fucking god, it was his own place, and he was just being an idiot. Idiot, idiot. All of this started with an idiot, didn't it? Fuck. ]

yeah [ He texted back, casually, with low-commitment, like his heart wasn't trying to jump out of his chest at the thought of (finally?) spending that much time with each other, alone.

Alone. It didn't really matter— to Gokudera's chagrin, the two of them had hung out together quite a few times in the past. And this plan was already set at the beginning of the week, before everything changed on Thursday, so canceling would be bizarre. He didn't want to cancel, actually. And as he told himself in his head before, at the pace they were going at, there was really nothing to be afraid of. What's the worst that could happen?

This latter question he had to ask Uri aloud; the cat blinked rapidly and pounced off in the direction of something or other, maybe a bug that got in the open window, or a speck of dust. He couldn't be crazy to the point of asking Uri for help. That was a level that he wouldn't tolerate.

So he confirmed again for Saturday, told Yamamoto goodnight, and went the fuck to sleep. He'd work it out in the morning. ]

Comments

[59]

[ So here he is, Saturday afternoon, loitering outside the arcade in downtown Namimori, squinting in the sunlight because his head fucking hurts and the three cigarettes he's had since he walked over haven't helped in the least.

"Work it out in the morning," that was the plan— it was more like to work it out in his sleep, even. He read in a magazine article the other day that information is consolidated when you sleep, so studying the night before an exam can boost the extent to which you retain the facts you need. Pretty useful... if you're able to actually sleep until the morning. Gokudera saw the morning, alright, but he saw it through the red eyes of someone who didn't catch a single wink. First he tried to blame it on the book he was reading being interesting, then on the documentary he watched, then on Uri being a pain in the ass, then on wanting to smoke, then on this, then on that. In reality, there was just too much adrenaline, too much that he was ignoring as it bounced around in the back of his mind and even in his heart. In the end, it wasn't until daylight that he was able to sleep for a few hours, and when he woke up, he felt no closer to enlightenment.

Actually, it was kind of stupid to expect himself to work out any of these contradictory feelings while asleep, but at the same time, how the hell else was he supposed to do it? As if he had the time to actually sit down and analyze his emotions. Funny joke.

But thankfully, it's not like Yamamoto to ask intense questions right off the bat. He didn't even press too much when Gokudera texted and asked that they meet at the venue, rather than walk over together. Gokudera said he had an errand to run, but in reality, he was stalling for time to find his chill.

But even still, here he is, restless. He keeps pulling out and repocketing his phone, looking up and down the street, giving in to nervous habits while trying all the while to appear disinterested, dreading and looking forward to Yamamoto's arrival all the same. ]

a million years later..... i'm so gomen

[pluvial]

[ yamamoto wasn't really sure what he was expecting when he decided to confess to gokudera the other day. actually, that wasn't entirely true, because he's known gokudera long enough to come to expect certain things, like the mixed signals and avoidance. it would have hurt more if he hadn't known that gokudera just did it out of a need for proper processing time, and you know, he understands that. so he gave gokudera his space, not pushing at all, even though it did sting a little when gokudera straight up ignored him in math class. but all of that was made up for after school, when gokudera backed him up against the side of the school building and kissed him. it was something unexpected but not unwelcome, and yamamoto was very close to ditching practice to spend the rest of the afternoon with gokudera. it wasn't much as far as reassurance goes, but for him and gokudera, it was enough.

which brings him to the morning. gokudera's text to him was brief, but yamamoto was looking forward to it just as much as he was. sure, he'd gone out with one or two girls previously, but it was always a little awkward for him in that he never knew what to do. most girls aren't into the same things he's into and even though they like watching his games, it doesn't mean they want to actually play it. they end up hanging out at his dad's restaurant most of the time, or the mall while yamamoto tried to grasp at things to talk about. he's glad he never really has to do the same with gokudera despite their different personalities.

he's also glad gokudera isn't looking in his direction when he comes up to the arcade, trying to quell the swell of something in his chest. he feels his heart actually skip a beat the moment he sees the way gokudera's hair catches the sunlight and he nearly laughs at himself. it's too early for this. ]

Hey! [ he jogs the rest of the way to gokudera, waving in greeting. ] Sorry, hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.

this is also mega late...

[59]

Tch, whatever, [ he grumbles, preemptively embarrassed and not at all wanting to give away any hint that he'd arrived early out of anticipation. Yeah, right, like he'd be excited to hang out with this idiot. He stays turned away for a second as he finishes up the last of his cigarette, less out of consideration for Yamamoto's lungs and more out of stalling for time. Because when he does look over finally, running a faux-nonchalant hand through his hair after crunching the the cigarette butt under his heel— it definitely hits him. That weird rush of fondness that he's only been able to identify for two days now. It's still pretty raw.

Yeah, right, he'd thought— but like he can kid himself for very long! He's not that stupid. His stream of consciousness is a traitor. And he doesn't even want to start on his emotions. Et tu, Hayato? Ah, shit! ]

Ready to get your ass kicked? [ there, a diversion; out of his head and back into the familiar, where he can confidently level a challenge with a smirk. ]