( gokutsuna contest entries )

ENTRY 007

2008-03-08T02:15:52Z

***Author’s note: There is a reference to episode 39 where Tsuna grabs the Chibi Gokudera in the midair as he’s blown away from the invisible assassins. This scene is not in the manga and only in the anime. ***

MELODY OF THE HEART

The first time I heard Jyuudaime’s heartbeat, I was dazed and confused. There was smoke from the bombs thrown by assassins; my body was too small and disoriented. As I was flung into the air, Jyuudaime ran and grabbed me before I fell on my head. That’s my Jyuudaime: ever concerned for his subordinates. That’s the boss I serve.

He held me so tightly against his incredibly bigger chest and arms, that I was not hurt at all, cushioned by his care. It was embarrassing that I could not even protect myself.

When I heard the heartbeat, I was more confused as I tried to focus on what had just happened. I heard his heart beat against mine, and was able to distinguish the difference between the two. Jyuudaime’s heartbeat was more wild and uncontrolled. Fortissimo against my mezzoforte. At first I had believed that it’s because of the distance he had to run to grab me in midair, or because the assassins attacked.

But as time passed by, I found out that that’s not the case. No, not at all. Underneath that kind, gentle smile, there was a hurricane that stirred his heart. A hurricane that’s much bigger than mine, or anyone else’s. When it came to protecting someone dear to him, he always made the decision to move forward, even if that was to break the vongola rings. Nothing stopped him, as he placed everyone else above him, when he was the sky that was much more valuable than any other regular citizen around him. I have never seen a mafia boss who never considered how much he himself was worth, and was always in the forefront of all battles.

*~*

Like each finger connecting one key to another to create a new melody, a new story unfolded. A stroke of a finger, and a new harmony unraveled.

“Whoa… Gokudera-kun. You play the piano well.” Jyuudaime once told me when I held a small private performance. “You are good at everything.” He said with his blinding smile.

I could hear my own heart skip a beat and quickly looked away. My emotions fluttered and I could hear my own blood rushing in my ears.

“This is nothing…” I said under a whisper. Certainly, this was nothing compared to what Jyuudaime has done.

When I came to deliver death when we first met, he reached out his hands and pulled me up from my own demise. Ever since that day when he transformed my immaturity into loyalty, he has been my savior and my life.

~*~

When I was a lone wolf, all I did was try to find a family to belong to, a family to serve, a place to call home. For that family, I was willing to be any dog they wanted me to be. I’d bark if they wanted me to bark, I’d jump when they wanted me to jump, and I’d die, if they wanted me to die.

Jyuudaime did not ask anything of that sort from me. He’s the one who’d share his lunch boxes with me at the rooftop. He’s the one who had no problem showing his weakness while doing his math homework. He’s the one who’d stand outside and wait for me after class when I had detention for blowing up the classroom. He’s the first to come to visit me in the infirmary if I was sick or injured. He’s the one who did not mind sharing the same umbrella under the rain. And if we didn’t have an umbrella, he’s the one who enjoyed laughing as we ran through the rain on our way home.

He’s the one who only asked for friendship, when I was offering my lifelong servitude.

Jyuudaime gave me more than just friendship. Jyuudaime helped me experience things I never dreamed of experiencing and also gave me many precious memories I never dreamed of owning: the memories we shared as we ran through the rain that blessed us with soft raindrops in the warm spring, the memory of searching for coins in our uniform pockets and gathering enough change for a drink from the soda machine, and the memory of freshly cut grass tickling our noses as we held our picnic under the sakura trees and the memory of lazily watched the clouds on the rooftop after finishing our lunch. Dreaming the same dream, laughing under the same sky,
we opened our hearts to each other.

~*~

The songs I play on the piano are just songs, written by someone else. Songs serenading their own stories, songs singing of of their own lives.

But the one Jyuudaime wove was a song much more grand, much more intricate that I still cannot comprehend it. My fingers may be able to connect one key to another to create melodies and harmonies, but my Jyuudaime connected one person with another, like one star connected with another to form a constellation.

I wanted to learn more. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to feel more. More and more of this person’s music.

~*~

Ten years may be a long walk for many, but too short for my Jyuudaime and I. I wanted to believe in the future. The future with you.

It was a regular cocktail party, and most of the Vongola Guardians had been invited. We made sure that at least two of us were always with our boss now, with the situation turning uglier and uglier. However, Jyuudaime still believed in the good of people-even his enemies.

The enemy was smart. One by one, they separated the guardians due to business reasons. It was only few minutes that I was away from Jyuudaime. Yamamoto and Hibari both thought one of us was near him.

The attack was swift, and traitorous. They used a little girl as bait, and Jyuudaime simply would not let a random innocent girl die due to his existence. As I watched him fall, my world crumpled like a tower of cards, overturning our destinies. Like a shattered wineglass dripping in tainted blood.

Several bullets bit me, yet I did not care. Yamamoto and Hibari, along with Ryohei and Lambo, were busy trying to fend off the oncoming slaughter. It was a trap, and a massacre to be remembered in the history of the mafia. Hibari and Ryohei were able to give me enough of an opening, as I rushed to Jyuudaime’s side. I rushed pass the dead bodies and against the flow of people running toward the exit.

The pool of blood gathered around the floor beneath Jyuudaime, as I kneeled and tried to lift him up.

Jyuudaime grabbed my hand. I could hear my own heartbeat pound and pound heavily against his. His heartbeat is a mezzo-piano against mine.

“You… must protect… the family… when I’m gone…” Jyuudaime coughed blood as he tried his best to say his last words clearly.

I squeezed his hand tightly as I watched my world fall apart. This pain inside me will never fade, no biting bullets nor tears, no sweet words nor passage of time will ever wash away my sorrow as I watched my boss slowly edge away into darkness and I there with him, powerless.

I nodded firmly, as I promised back to my boss, that I’ll carry his dreams beyond his death. I held my boss’s cold hands close to my heart. His heartbeat slows to a piano to a pianissimo. Jyuudaime left behind his last memory he shared with me, his one last peaceful and gentle smile. A smile that said that he knew he could go now, because he trusted me enough to let go.

In the end, all I heard was my own heartbeat. Now I am the harmony without a melody. If I could express myself in piano, I would. But I cannot. Because a harmony cannot exist without its melody.

Though everyone called him good-for-nothing and weak, he never allowed us to protect him. He protected us first, saved our lives, and then changed us before we even got to know him well.

And when it should have been me, he died in my place.

The decade of years I’ve served under him had no meaning or value with him gone. He was my everything, and I died with him that day.

That day, I became a nightingale who lost his ability to sing, still screaming silently the songs of my boss that he wished for me to carry as I lifelessly lived for his dreams.

ENTRY 006

2008-03-08T02:13:25Z

THE RIGHT HAND
warning ; NC-17

"Boss?" The question comes followed by a deep intake of breath. Tsuna freezes, expects the door to slam shut. But it doesn't. He knows Gokudera is just standing there, staring at him.

When his mother had taken out the children shopping with her and Reborn had said he'd some business of his own to take care of that afternoon, Tsunayoshi was incredibly glad for some quiet time, alone.

As a boy very much in the throws of puberty whose privacy has become scarce, private time is treasured time.

And now non-existent.

A minute passes, Gokudera is still standing there. Tsuna also hasn't moved, his cock in his hand, hard, red, and in plain view.

Tsuna stands up suddenly, turning, but in his haste ends up falling onto his knees. The embarrassment only mounts. His only relief is that at least Gokudera can't see his erection anymore.

"You could have knocked!" He yells, it's a strangled sound.

"I did..." Gokudera murmurs. "You didn't respond. All I heard was labored breathing and moans, it worried me...."

"Nothing to worry about!" Tsuna squeaks. "You can go now!"

But Gokudera doesn't go, he walks closer. "Tenth..." Is all he says as he hoists Tsuna up, arms around his waist. Tsuna stops breathing as he's pulled backwards to the bed and Gokudera sits, Tsuna falling into his lap.

His chin is on Tsuna's shoulder. When he speaks it's in a whisper against his ear, but for the reverberation it leaves it could have been an avalanche. "I'm here to take care of you. Anything you need, anytime. After all...I'm your right-hand man...right?"

Then Gokudera's own right hand has found it's place around Tsuna's cock, stroking gently. For his part, the Vongola tenth is in too much need for relief to protest much. He bites his lip and surrenders.

His head falls back onto Gokudera's shoulder, their cheeks brush.

Tsuna's face is flushed, he's still terribly embarrassed. But Gokudera's other hand is stroking his side, he finds it surprisingly relaxing, and closes his eyes, giving in.

The rings on Gokudera's hand adds an extra sensation, Tsuna can't help but shiver. But it's good, it's all very good. His friend and subordinate has nimble yet strong fingers that touch him just right, and pull embarrassing cries from him.

He grips Gokudera's knees, and clings harder the closer he gets. He's so very close when he feels it, Gokudera's own arousal hard against him. He shifts, partly from embarrassment, but this brings a groan from Gokudera. And so, with a gulp, Tsuna shifts again, this time with more purpose.

Gokudera groans again, and bucks against him, then suddenly wraps his left arm around Tsuna's torso and grinds up against the smaller boy. Tsuna obliges by grinding down, because Gokudera is still touching him so well, and he feels compelled to make his somewhat nutty follower feel good also.

And Gokudera is feeling good, if the sounds he's making are any indication. But soon Tsuna can't grind down anymore, Tsuna wouldn't be able to sit up anymore if it wasn't for the solid body behind him. The right hand completes its mission and Tsuna is staring at the ceiling mouth open and gaping, the feeling too good that he's beyond screaming as he's wrung free from all cares, only knowing a blinding white and the sense of a pleasure so intense that no word he knows can give justice to.

He flops boneless when it ends. A wonderful feeling lingers still, making him feel sluggish and tired, and very very satisfied.

Gokudera is still grinding, but after a few dry humps, he comes too; his completion marked with a single grunt. Then he collapses to the bed, dragging his boss with him.

They're both breathing heavily still, Tsuna turns to face him, though it feels like quite the task to move.

He smiles with an embarrassed tint returning to his cheeks. "Thanks..." is all he can say.

"No Tenth," Gokudera returns. "I'm yours. Use me however you wish. It's why I'm here."

But Tsuna pouts, "You're more than that, Gokudera-kun."

And Gokudera smiles then brushes a kiss against Tsuna's forehead.

"Tenth, you'll never know how much you've given me. I just want to give back whatever I can."

Tsuna takes his hand then and cuddles up close. They drift off curled into each other.

It was a good sleep. Until Maman came home, with the over-active children, who's high pitched screaming wakes them, and Tsuna scurries for clothes. Then Reborn enters, and after a quick glance around the room a twinkle of knowledge shines in the Arcobaleno's eye, though the boys had dropped into study positions around the table,

"You had a good afternoon, didn't you Tsuna?" the hitman's high voice asked.

Tsuna only groans, his head dropping to bang against the table, while Gokudera looks away and lights a cigarette. The future Mafia Don wonders if when he actually takes over he'll have some privacy.

It's almost too much to hope for.

ENTRY 005 (con't.)

2008-03-08T02:08:36Z

AND I WILL PLEDGE WITH MINE (PART 3)
part one | part two
rating ; R

Gokudera sneaks onto a plane to Japan the next night.

He is given only a set of vague directions, and a single location. Nothing else. No one knows where the Vongola base is. Gokudera has no hope of finding Tsuna. He himself must be found.

So he goes to Namimori Middle School, and wanders.

It's dark, and he hurts.

His body is a broken mess, only half-healed. If Gokudera were to show up at Vongola headquarters in full health after having lost Byakuran the Vongola Tenth, it would be suspicious. So his arms are still sprained and his legs are still twisted, and not a spot on his body is not scratched and bruised.

He escaped. That's the story. Byakuran left to torture some other poor unfortunate soul, and Gokudera escaped from Millefiore and took the first plane to Japan he could find. To look for Tsuna. To be with him again. To follow him.

In his head, he sees the Vongola Juudaime dead at his hands. He sees Tsuna's body blown apart by one of his bombs, limbs littered across a battlefield, a decapitated head cradled in Gokudera's arms.

In his head, he sees that small, abashed smile aimed at him, and feels warm arms wrap against his torso.

He's going crazy. He knows this.

Gokudera will kill Tsuna, because Byakuran ordered him to.

He'll return to headquarters, and report back to Byakuran.

And then he'll climb up each and every one of the stairs, until he's reached the roof. And he'll walk right off.

So lost in his thoughts is he that he doesn't see the fist come flying his way until it's too late. He has only the barest moment to think Tsuna before his eyes goes dark.

***

The first thing he sees when he wakes are brown eyes, and his lips whisper Tsuna before he realizes that the man staring down at him, face guarded and gaze curious, is not the boy he's fallen so desperately in love with. Not the boy he's going to kill.

It's Yamamoto Takeshi standing above him, and Gokudera jerks away so quickly he tumbles off the bed he'd apparently been placed on.

"You," he rasps, clutching at his suddenly throbbing temple and waving a hand as if to ward off the man staring at him. "What are you doing-"

"I think you've got that the other way around," Yamamoto laughs, sort of nervously. "What are you doing here?"

There's a rustling behind him, and Gokudera suddenly realizes that he's no longer wandering around Namimori Middle School.

Yamamoto Takeshi stands before him, smiling but confused.

Beside him stands another man, with pale hair that looks more like turf than anything else. A girl leans next to him, pretty and curvy, with large eyes and hair a deep purple. Standing a few feet away is a boy, with curly black hair and large green eyes, standing beside another man with belts and piercings all over, and a grin the size of Japan on his face.

Sasagawa Ryohei. Chrome Dokuro. Lambo Bovino. Naito Longchamp.

And then they part, and there is Tsuna, standing there, smiling at him more sweetly than Gokudera would have thought possible.

"Tsuna," he whispers. His hands jerk and spasm on his forehead.

He has been determinedly not thinking of this moment since the second Tsuna walked away from Millefiore headquarters, fire and death following in his wake. He has been not thinking of this moment since the second Byakuran looked at him and said You will kill him. So he has no speech prepared, and nothing comes to mind expect:

"Tsuna. I'm here."

"You're here," Tsuna repeats. He turns his eyes downward, a soft smile tilting his lips up. "You came. I hoped you would."

There's a click of a tongue from Gokudera's right, and he turns. A sharp-eyed man leans quietly against the wall, sneering down at him and tapping a tonfa against his arm. "This is the Millefiore that kept you contained for three months?" he asks.

Gokudera flinches, and pushes himself into a seating position. "Bastard-"

"Yes," Tsuna says, twining his fingers together nervously. "But it's alright. I asked him to come."

"A Millefiore B-Rank," the Vongola Cloud Guardian says. "Your captor."

Tsuna jerks, shaking his head wildly. "It's a-alright, Hibari-san," he says, voice shaky but firm. "I invited him here. He just accepted late."

"He's a Millefiore dog," Hibari says coldly, idly. "Probably sent on Byakuran's orders."

Gokudera goes cold. "No," he lies, spitting the words out "I wasn't-"

"Then you're a traitor," Hibari continues, his lips curving almost demonically. "What use have we of traitors?"

"Hibari-san!" Tsuna barks. He reaches forward and lets one of his hands rest a few millimeters above his Cloud Guardian's shoulder, as if reluctant to touch, but not enough to refuse to show the gesture. "Stop." He turns back to Gokudera, and smiles weakly.

"He can stay," he murmurs, directing the words at everyone. "Please. Everyone, be kind to him."

The baby standing at his side frowns, though it's hard to tell the emotion from any other. "I don't like that choice, dame-Tsuna," he says. "Don't forget what he's done."

The Vongola Boss flinches, but when he speaks, his voice is firm. "I won't, Reborn," he says. "He kept me alive and tended to me when I was ill. He could have hurt me, and instead did his best not to." He smiles at Gokudera.

"No. I won't forget what he's done."

Gokudera closes his eyes against the sweep of shame and despair that crashes into him at those words.

God.

He is going to kill this boy.

***

Tsuna spends the afternoon showing him around, while Yamamoto follows like a faithful, cheerful watchdog.

He's every bit the eager host. This'll be your room, Gokudera-kun. You work with bombs, right? Giannini will get you anything you need. Look, you can use this office as a workspace. You want some nitroglycerin? We'll get that right up for you.

And with every step, every smile, every kind word and reassuring pat on the back, Gokudera feels a little bit of him crumple to pieces, never to be fixed.

He wants to grab Tsuna's face in his hands and kiss him until they're both breathless and trembling.

He needs to corner him, alone in a darkened room, and blow him to pieces, until there is no hope he'll ever be revived.

He will die. They'll both die.

This is Byakuran's will.

***

Tsuna ushers him to bed somewhere around midnight, with a happy good night and a small smile. Gokudera lays in bed for hours, whispering the words back to him.

It's somewhere around three in the morning when he finally realizes that he will not fall asleep. Not like this.

In his mind, he sees Tsuna. Only Tsuna.

He stumbles out of bed, and makes his way towards the large nook the Vongola Juudaime uses as bedroom.

The hallways are empty and unpatrolled. No one is there to question him, or to offer guidance.

Gokudera is not sure whether or not to be grateful. He doesn't want to think about it.

He reaches the door finally.

This is his chance. The first of many. It would be so very simple to slip inside and kill the boy in his sleep.

Instead, he falls to his knees before that door, and lays his head upon it.

He's so very tired.

***

Gokudera is awoken by a quick, harsh pressure to his throat, and he gasps for breath as his eyes jerk open. His vision hazes for a minute, before it snaps into clear focus.

Hibari Kyouya stands there, holding a tonfa to Gokudera's neck, eyes aloof and cold.

"Herbivores should be in bed at this hour," Hibari says. "Why are you here, traitor?"

Gokudera snarls against the words, lurching to his feet and growling at the unabated pressure on his larynx. "A guard should be posted at his door," he hisses. He pushes away the guilt that floods him then, the thought of to protect him from people like me abrasive in its truth. "He's your Boss. Why isn't someone here?"

The Cloud Guardian stares past him. He doesn't even bother raising his eyebrows. Gokudera clenches his fists in impotent rage. He will not be looked down upon. He will not be disparaged.

"If Sawada can't take care of himself," Hibari drawls, his eyes already somewhere else, "He might as well die."

And as always, the words fill Gokudera with panic unlike any he's ever felt before. He growls and reaches into his jacket, his hands already searching out the bombs he keeps there.

He doesn't get a chance to use them. A tonfa is at his neck before his fingers manage to even grasp the dynamite.

"I have no use for a weak Boss," Hibari continues, his voice soft and silky and full of malice, "Sawada can handle his own issues. He doesn't need my protection, and he most certainly does not need the guard of a foolish, defective ex-Millefiore dog who wasn't strong enough to even hold on to him." His thin lips curve in a smile that reminds Gokudera so harshly of Byakuran he almost screams.

"How many seconds did it take Yamamoto to beat you to within an inch of your life?" he asks.

"Fuck you," Gokudera spits.

Hibari's mouth quirks. "How an herbivore like you could have contained one such as him will forever remain outside of my realm of comprehension."

"Fuck you!" Gokudera screams

"Although," Hibari continues, voice so soft now, "half-starving him and keeping him locked in one place for nigh on three months might have contributed. There's no way one such as you could have kept him otherwise."

Gokudera snarls. Wordlessly, because his throat has suddenly clogged, and his mind is blank.

"Yes," Hibari whispers. "It will cost him much blood and effort to regain the strength months of inactivity and malnutrition has cost him. I've been assigned to his re-training. Did you know that?"

Gokudera snaps at him, teeth baring and closing within an inch of his face. Something in Hibari's eyes flash, and the lazy expression on his face drops for a moment. Just for a moment. Then the tonfa presses in, and in, and for a second of white-flashing pain and panic Gokudera thinks his throat will collapse.

And then there's a click, and suddenly hands are pulling at the wrist keeping him trapped against the wall. Tsuna stares up at his strongest Guardian, eyes scared and fervent.

"Stop, Hibari-san!" he cries, tugging at his wrist. Hibari looks at him, and Tsuna quickly lets go. He pulls his hands to his chest, his shoulders hunching slightly.

"I asked you to not bother him," the boy says. His voice is uneven and quiet, but his gaze does not waver. "Please stop."

Hibari glances down at his Boss, eyes unreadable, and for a moment Gokudera can feel the pressure on his neck build and intensify. Then, with a metallic shing, the tonfa is sheathed, and without another word, Hibari turns, and walks away into the darkness.

There's a shaky release of breath from the young Vongola Boss beside him, grating in the night. Tsuna laughs nervously. "Sorry," he says. "Hibari-san can be a bit difficult to handle sometimes. Please forgive him."

Gokudera presses a hand to his neck.

"Anyway, he's right," Tsuna continues. "I'm fine by myself. You don't need to stand here. If there were any trouble, Reborn would notice and wake me up with a kick to the face. I'm fine." He smiles as best he can, and shrugs. "Please go to bed. I won't be able to sleep if I know you're standing outside, and I'm training with Hibari-san tomorrow. If I'm not well-rested, I think I'll die." He laughs, but the nervousness in it makes Gokudera think the words are only half-joke.

"Well!" Tsuna says, stretching his hands over his head and grinning self-consciously. "I'm off to bed. Good night, Gokudera-kun."

He turns away, and begins opening his bedroom door.

This is it.

Gokudera knows this. This is the moment he's been waiting for. No one is here, except for the two of them. Hibari is gone. The baby is gone. Everyone is gone.

It would be the work of a moment. A bomb. One of the smaller ones, lit with a cigarette and placed surreptitiously inside the room before Tsuna finishes closing the door. He wouldn't notice. He's too oblivious.

He would be half-way to the exit before it exploded. By then, he'd have filled the corridors with the smoke of a hundred others, and it would be the simplest thing to escape, with the attention of everyone in the compound on Tsuna.

And then he'd leave, escape. He'd be back at Millefiore headquarters before dawn, and armed with the knowledge of the exact whereabouts of the Vongola headquarters. Byakuran would be pleased. He'd be so, so pleased.

The work of a moment.

Instead, he wraps his arms around Tsuna's shoulders, molds his chest to the smaller boy's back, and buries his face in brown hair.

"Let me stay," he whispers.

Tsuna stiffens. Slowly, hands come up to pat awkwardly at the arms wrapped around his chest. "I already said you could," Tsuna says. "This is your home now."

Gokudera laughs into brown spikes. It's not a happy sound. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Tsuna's back is tense against him, and the hands resting on his arms are curled in on themselves. He inhales raggedly, and for a half-second, Gokudera thinks the boy will say something. He doesn't.

The air is so very still around them. The only noise comes from breath pushed out between open, shuddering lips. Thick, coarse strands of hair scratch at his face, and calloused fingers grasp feverishly at his forearms. Gokudera can think of nothing but Tsuna.

"Please," he says. "I..." He gulps, and tightens his arms further. "I'll be good to you. I promise. I'll make you feel wonderful. I will. I'll do anything. Anything at all. Please." He bows his head, fingers searching out Tsuna's and clutching to them like a lifeline. "Tsuna. Let me stay."

Silence. Gokudera can feel the quick beat of a heart against his wrists, and the tremors that flood the Vongola Boss's body reverberate through him. He breathes in, because he must.

The hands clenched in his pull away gently, and Tsuna steps forward, away from Gokudera's embrace. Gokudera does not stop him.

"Good night, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna whispers, and closes the door.

Gokudera stands there for longer than he cares to think about.

He thinks he's going crazy.

***

In his dreams, he sees the dead bodies of his Millefiore comrades.

They stare at him with wide, accusing eyes, and he shouts and screams at their mutilated corpses.

I'm sorry, he thinks. I'm sorry.

***

He is seated at his workbench the next day, carefully mixing powders and chemicals. Dynamite. For Tsuna.

His fingers shake uncontrollably His mind is a white slate, his hands going through the motions without ever seeing. He spills far more than he should.

A knock echoes against his door. He does not answer.

Sodium, he thinks. Sodium carbonate. If he messes this up-

"God fucking dammit," he mutters.

How many milligrams? Ten, or twelve?

Another knock.

Maybe he's wrong, maybe it's fifteen?

Three parts nitro, one part earth, and mix the rest with-

He slams his hands against the bench. He should know this, he's been doing this his whole life, he-

Another knock. This time, it's accompanied by a voice, and Gokudera trips over himself with how quickly he's out of his seat and to the door.

Tsuna looks up at him. He's tugging at his shirt and shifting uncomfortably, but that odd resolve, so very incongruous with his everyday persona, is visible on his face. Gokudera can think of nothing to say except: "Come in."

"Thanks," Tsuna says, and makes his way inside. He peers curiously at Gokudera's worktable, and leans over the contents. Slowly, he stretches a hand at one of the jars. "What are-"

"Don't touch that!" Gokudera barks. Tsuna jerks wildly back, staring at him in fear. Gokudera closes his eyes. He can't bear to look at him. He can't help but look at him. His entire body is racked by shivers.

This is what I'm going to use to kill you. The chemical is nitroglycerin, the powder diatomaceous earth, and the rest is sodium, except I can't remember how much I'm supposed to use. Stupid, because I've been doing this forever.

I can't...remember.

Why.

"It's dangerous," he says slowly. "I'm mixing stuff for my bombs. You shouldn't touch it."

Tsuna shivers once, and shoves his hands inside his pockets. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Gokudera responds automatically. He inhales once. Opens his eyes. "Sit down. Please."

Tsuna shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's hunched over. As if, by presenting a smaller target, maybe Gokudera won't notice him. Won't look at him.

Stupid, stupid boy.

"No, it's alright," he says. "I just wanted to say...something."

Ten, twelve, or fifteen. Just a pinch, a shudder of powder falling from a bag.

"About last night," Tsuna whispers. "I didn't want to...leave it like that."

Gokudera's heart is pounding. He counts the beats in a ten second period, and decides to use that number in his measurements.

Thirteen.

"Yes?" he murmurs.

Tsuna's hands twist together, folding and stretching like origami. Gokudera can feel the flutter of breath even from here.

Then, in a rush, the words tripping over themselves in their effort to escape: "I like someone."

Thirteen, twelve, ten. Stops.

The room is cold, and goosebumps erupt all over his skin even as his stomach flip-flops like a dying thing. "Yamamoto?" he whispers.

Tsuna shakes his head. His hands are twitching. "No, not Yamamoto," he says. His mouth is stretched up in a parody of a smile, but there's only fear and hurt behind the expression.

"A girl," he continues. "Her name's Sasagawa Kyoko. She's Ryohei's sister. She's really nice. Really pretty. I think you'd like her."

"No," Gokudera whispers.

"You would," Tsuna insists quietly. "E-everyone likes her. She's wonderful."

Gokudera closes his eyes.

He is going to kill this boy. He will. Thirteen milligrams, and boom.

Nitroglycerin in a bottle of water. A stick of dynamite in a book bag. Shards of glass from the beakers lining the wall. The edge of the knife he keeps tied to the inside of his left boot.

He is going to kill this boy, this Vongola, this Tsunayoshi Sawada. It's his duty. Byakuran told him so.

His hands shake on his lap, and all he can think of is how very much he hates Sasagawa Kyoko.

"Are you going to marry her?" he asks. Tsuna starts, but Gokudera is already continuing.

"You'll have to retire from the Vongola," he says, spits. "Nice girls don't like being connected with the Mafia. But that's okay, right? You never wanted this, did you? You want a nice girl and a nice house and a nice picket fence with three kids and a dog, and you'll be there and I'll be here, and-"

"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna says wildly. "Stop!"

Gokudera's mouth clacks shut, but his hands twist in his pants. He's breathing heavily. He can feel his chest rising and falling as sweat builds against his temple and on his palms.

"Is there really no way you'll consider me?" he asks. His voice catches on the syllables, a humiliating afterthought to puberty. His fingernails will rip through fabric soon.

"I would be so good to you," he whispers. "I would do everything for you. If you would just choose me."

Tsuna looks at him. His eyes are so very wide, and they shine under the artificial light like stones. His cheeks are suffused with red, his lips almost bitten through with how frantically he's worried them.

And God, God, all Gokudera can think of is treason and blasphemy and darkness.

His hands clutch desperately at Tsuna's shirt and pull, pull him towards him, closer and closer until he's towering over the tenth boss of the Vongola family, bending and bowing and pressing quivering lips to Tsuna's own, so soft he can barely feel it.

Tsuna stands below him, immobile. Gokudera whispers trembling hands across skin, up his arms, over his neck, feeling the pulse, life beneath his fingertips.

A squeeze of an artery, a snap of a neck.

He doesn't want to hurt him. He can scarcely bear to touch him.

He holds life in his hands, and the thought makes bile rise in his throat.

***

Sometimes, Gokudera wonders if he's not dreaming this.

Maybe he's unconscious - one of Byakuran's blows too swift, too powerful, and this nothing more than a feverish fantasy. Tsuna's lips on his the last vision of a dying man. The feel of a pulse racing underneath his fingers only the beat of his own heart as it struggles for life. The shudder racing up and down his spine, little more than a death tremor.

Maybe he's dead, dying, and Tsuna comes as an angel of mercy. Or as one of damnation.

It seems, sometimes, as if there is no difference between the two. Not as long as he stays in this place.

***

Tsuna walks away. Then runs.

Gokudera stares at his retreating form and fights against the nausea caused by the putrid stench of his guilt and the tingling in his lips.

***

That night, he takes a seat on his bed and shakily turns on the tiny transmitter Byakuran gave him before he left. And waits.

It doesn't take long. The screen, etched with static, suddenly clears, and Byakuran's smiling face stares up at him.

"Yes, Hayato-kun?" the Millefiore White Spell Boss asks pleasantly. "What do you have to report?"

Gokudera's hands clench and tremble on the device. Byakuran looks at him, faux worry decorating his lovely features. "Hayato-kun? Are you well?"

He can't get his voice to work properly. His knees are shaking, and he sets the transmitter down on his bedside table for fear of dropping it. His Boss's eyes are as sharp as flint, now.

"Let me keep him," he whispers.

Byakuran stills. His smile widens, just slightly. "Excuse me?"

Gokudera can scarcely force the words out. His throat feels savaged. "The Vongola Boss," he rasps. "Give him to me. He's unguarded. He trusts me. I could have him out by morning."

The thin hiss of the air conditioner at his back rattles the papers lying on his desk. Floor plans, escape plans. Plans for everything. He has to wrap himself with a blanket just to ward off the aching cold in his limbs.

Byakuran looks at him, the smile as omnipresent as the malice in his eyes. Then, finally, his voice quiet and as deadly as venom: "You wouldn't disobey orders, would you, Hayato-kun?"

Nothing exists, except wild, piercing impotence and terror. It's all he feels nowadays. "I won't disobey," he gasps through straining lungs. "But, please. Boss. Byakuran-sama. Let me keep him. I won't disobey you, I won't. I'll do whatever you want. I've always followed you, I'll always follow you, just let me keep him."

A pause. Byakuran's smile remains never-changing. "Should I give him to Glo?"

Gokudera chokes on spit and fear. "Sir!"

Those beautiful green eyes slit, and a lazy, flippant hand runs through spiked locks of pale hair. "You've become quite fixated on this boy, Hayato-kun," Byakuran drawls. "I'm not sure I trust you anymore."

"I've never failed you," Gokudera hisses. "I've never betrayed-"

"You let him be taken away," Byakuran interrupts coolly. "You let the Vongola Boss slip from your fingers. He was under your protection, wasn't he? And the Rain Guardian walked in and took him from you, as easily as if you were naught but a doll."

Impotence. Helplessness. "Sir-"

"And now you come to me," Byakuran continues. His voice is so very soft. "You come to me pleading for the life of Vongola trash. Okay, Hayato-kun," he whispers. Laughs. Slowly, quietly, as if at a joke only he understands. "Okay. I'll give him to you."

Gokudera's breath hitches. "Byakuran-sama?"

Byakuran's smile thins, widens, and he delicately swirls a strand of hair around one elegant finger.

"I'll give him to you," he repeats. "But we keep him in the barracks."

Then there is no air, no air, nothing to breathe, and Gokudera gasps for breath even as his hands claw patterns in his thighs. "What-"

"The men need entertainment," Byakuran laughs. "Someone to be rough with. Someone to play around with. Someone to fuck. It'll be good for their morale. Yes," he smiles. "I think I'll grant you your boon."

"No," Gokudera moans. "No. I don't want that."

A slim eyebrow hitches on a pretty face. "Oh?" Byakuran whispers, voice silky soft. "Or did you want him only for yourself?" Lower, quicker. "A beloved toy, to be cared for and cossetted? The Vongola Boss: your bed-companion, lover; prisoner in name only? No, Hayato-kun," he coos. "No. I will not allow that."

He sits back, and folds a lovely hand upon a lovelier cheek. The only sound in the room comes from Gokudera's gasps and hitching sobs.

"You will kill him before the week is done," Byakuran says finally. "Or I'll send Gamma in to take care of both of you."

***

Gokudera decides to spend the next morning in bed. He feels sick, he says. Fever. Nightmares. Sore throat, stuffy nose.

It's not a lie, but he succeeds about as well as can be expected. He's up and about by nine, his hands feverishly rearranging papers, plans. Then he runs to his second room, mixing chemicals, adding powders, and almost killing himself too many times to count. He doesn't bother with measurements. They're all going to blow up anyway. Who cares if it takes out a room or a wing?

But his hands tremble and his mind screams, and by eleven he's wandering the halls, punching walls and muttering to himself because if he doesn't, he thinks he'll cry.

He's going crazy. Stark raving mad.

He's going to kill him. Tsuna.

They're orders. From Byakuran. His boss. Scraped him from the sewer, gave him a place at his side, Byakuran, White Spell, Millefiore, Byakuran. Who was good to him. As good as he knew how to be. Who gave him his life, fed him strength, offered him the world. Byakuran. Byakuran.

You will kill him before the week is done.

In his head, he sees Tsuna. There's a smile on his face, sunlight casting shadows and reflections upon cambers and curves. His eyes glow. They crinkle at the edges with happiness. Love flows from every crevice of the Vongola Warlord's body, and Gokudera reaches for it like a man dying.

In his head, he sees Tsuna. Blood on his face, moonlight casting shadows and death upon angles and protrusions. Wetness soaks the floor, turns Gokudera's hands red. He sees himself dump the lifeless corpse on the ground, sees himself walk to the restroom to wash carmine from steady hands. But he can't get under his nails. There's blood on his hands, half-moons nestled at his fingertips, and he can't get it off. He can't get it off, and in his head he sees Tsuna, Tsuna, wonderful, beautiful Tsuna, with his angel's smile and his love.

In his head, he hears Tsuna.

All I have to do is die.

***

Yamamoto takes a seat beside him in the kitchen, when he finds him sitting there, hours later. It's early afternoon, now. There's no sunlight to tell by, but the hands of his watch say fourteen hundred hours.

The larger man shifts on the bench, props a foot up on a chair. He's tall. Strong. Gokudera can see that. There's muscle under the too-thin layer of fat, strength in his every movement.

Powerful, steady. Born to protect him from those such as me.

Guardian, Gokudera thinks, and can summon no rebuke.

Yamamoto turns towards him. His eyes are earnest, and his smile is kind. "You okay, Gokudera?" he asks.

There's concern in his voice. It's genuine, and kinder than anything Gokudera has felt since Tsuna. He wonders how many times he's thrown up in the last three days.

"Get away from me," he spits.

Yamamoto laughs, but does not move. Instead, he leans his elbows against the table and cradles his chin to them. When he speaks, his voice is no longer loud.

"You know," he says, "Tsuna's saved most of us."

Gokudera wants to close his eyes against the words, but can't bear to, for fear of the man sitting beside him disappearing and taking his voice with him.

Yamamoto laughs again, the sound wistful. "I was gonna kill myself, once. I broke my arm. I really, really love baseball," he grins, by way of explanation. "And when that happened, I thought I'd never be able to play again. So I tried to jump off the roof. Tsuna talked to me." He smiles again. Gokudera wants to tear the expression off his face out of pure spite.

"He does that a lot," Yamamoto continues. "Hibari was just a punk prefect. Mukuro was sort of evil. The Varia, the Guardians, everyone. We're all better people because of him."

"Shut up," Gokudera snarls hoarsely. "I don't care about anything you have to say. You know nothing."

Yamamoto just laughs, but if it sounds a bit less happy than it did previously, no one comments on it. "I know that you love him," he says simply.

Gokudera slams his hands hard on the table. His mug of tea spills onto the wood. "Shut up!"

"It's hard not to," Yamamoto continues, his broad smile crinkling his eyes. "He's good. I understand why you would-"

"Shut up!" Gokudera jumps to his feet. His hands are curled in Yamamoto's collar before he realizes it, and he jerks him up by the neck. "Shut the fuck up!"

The smile drops from Yamamoto's face, and his eyes go cold. Huge, strong hands wrap around Gokudera's wrist and dislodge him with a single twist and shove. Gokudera sprawls backward, panting, his mouth stretched in a snarl.

"Don't do that," Yamamoto says. "Tsuna wants us to get along."

Gokudera laughs, long and shrill. "With you?" he crows. "Get along with you?" He's going crazy, he knows he is. He can feel his mind fragmenting on itself, brittle, as if pulled apart by two strong hands. Byakuran, Tsuna.

Yamamoto has no right to speak with him.

"Never," he hisses. "Get away from me. Don't talk to me. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I want you to go away." He twists his hands in his hair and pulls, as hard as he can, to try and keep the thoughts from escaping.

"Get away," he moans.

There's a pause. Then, "Gokudera-kun? Are you okay?"

He can hear the worry in that voice, and wonders what sort of picture he must be making at the moment, for the great and powerful Yamamoto, savior of the innocent, to sound so scared.

"You don't look well," Yamamoto continues. "You should get some sleep. You look-"

"Crazy," Gokudera laughs. "Right? I look crazy."

***

He feels crazy.

Tsuna must die. Byakuran says so.

Byakuran's a liar. Tsuna says so.

If he kills Tsuna, Byakuran will let him live.

If he kills Tsuna, Gokudera knows he'll die. The very thought sends him heaving the contents of his stomach into the toilet, gasping and choking on dinner and acid until he sobs in agony.

Gokudera does not know what to do.
***

Except he does.

In the dead of night, Gokudera straps bombs to his legs and arms and the inside of his jacket, and walks to Tsuna's room.

There are no interruptions. No Hibari to bite him to death, no Reborn to offer cryptic words and mocking baby smiles, no Yamamoto to act encouraging and friendly.

There is only the soft sound of footfalls on concrete, and the cacophonous beat of a heart against his chest.

He wants the walk to last forever.

It doesn't.

And in the space of mere minutes, he stands before Tsuna's door, trembling.

His hands are curled into fists. They're quivering so violently he thinks they might fall off.

He will do this. He will do this.

The door opens before he has even mustered up the will to knock, and then there is Tsuna, staring up at him with huge brown eyes and a weak smile.

"I thought I heard you walk by," Tsuna says, opening the door wider and turning to walk back inside. "Come in."

Gokudera can't speak. His throat is a dead, caved-in thing.

"It's past midnight," Tsuna says, his back still turned towards Gokudera. He leans over the desk pushed up on the opposite side of the wall, sorting papers. "You couldn't sleep?"

Gokudera can't answer.

"I was just doing some paperwork," Tsuna laughs. "Even now, Reborn's got me doing finances. I don't know what half of this is. I just BS it and then take it to Haru to fix for me. You haven't met her yet, have you?"

He opens his mouth to talk, but all that emerges is a low, drawn-out whine.

"She's nice, too," Tsuna continues. He hasn't yet turned around. "I don't know if you'll like her. She's pretty..ah. Forceful? But it's okay. She's a good person."

"I-" Gokudera chokes. His hands tighten on the dynamite clenched in his pockets. "I-"

Tsuna straightens, frozen for a moment. And then he turns towards him, still smiling nervously. "Gokudera-kun? Are you okay?"

Tsuna's eyes are wide, and bloodshot with lack of sleep. The bags under them are blackened and dark, and his brow is furrowed in residual stress. His lips are chapped, and his skin is pale with all the weight of the world.

He's so very lovely.

He is so very good.

The sight of him breaks something fragile and vitally important in Gokudera's chest.

"Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna repeats quietly. "Are you okay?"

And in that moment, Gokudera knows that he will never be able to do it.

And the small, important thing in his heart - the thing that's been fragmenting on itself since the moment he first looked at this boy - finally shudders, quakes, and snaps into place.

And he knows he'll never be able to raise a hand against him again.

He moves before he knows what he's doing, tripping forward on feet leaden and weighted, and falls to his knees before the Vongola Juudaime. He buries his face in Tsuna's belly, and trembles.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry. Tsuna, Tsuna, please. I'm sorry."

He's not sure how long he kneels there at Tsuna's feet, his arms clutching at the back of the younger boy's thighs. But finally, Tsuna lifts two hands, so very slowly, and buries them in Gokudera's hair, smoothing the wild, tangled strands.

"It's okay," he says. His voice shakes. "I knew you wouldn't hurt me."

Time slows, and fades to gray.

Gokudera peels his face against the front of Tsuna's tee, and looks up. "What?" he whispers.

Tsuna laughs, but the sound is terribly nervous, and horribly scared. His hands still card reassuringly through locks of white hair, but they shudder and freeze in a staccato rhythm of stop-and-go.

"Byakuran sent you, didn't he?" he asks quietly. "To kill me?"

Gokudera freezes. His voice catches in his throat. His body loses the capacity to even tremble.

He can't breathe.

God.

Tsuna knows.

Tsuna knows.

He wants to throw up. He wants to pass out. His head is spinning, his stomach is jerking, and it is only his grip on the fabric of Tsuna's jeans that keeps him conscious and grounded to reality as his sanity cracks and bleeds, going jagged around the edges, suddenly unable to reconcile the ill-fit of it.

And then finally, he manages to gasp out the only thing he can think of.

"Tsuna."

There's a pause, and Tsuna forces a laugh. The sound is painful to hear, and Gokudera closes his eyes, as if doing so will block out the agony that rips through him at the barked noise.

"It was obvious, wasn't it?" Tsuna murmurs shakily. "I begged you to come with me, and you wouldn't. You hated me for even asking."

"Never," Gokudera chokes. "Never hate you. Can't."

"But you didn't come," Tsuna continues, quietly insistent and so very pained. "And then for no reason, you show up at our door, and no one chases you. You were B-rank, weren't you? Byakuran liked you. If it had been real, he would have sent people after you. He would have tailed you better. Even as a deserter, Byakuran would have used you to try and find our base's location." He releases a shuddering breath.

"It was...obvious," Tsuna finishes. "To me. And even if it wasn't, I could feel it. Half the time, you couldn't even bear to touch me. I thought...it must have been guilt."

Gokudera can't breathe. Can't move.

But he can tremble, and he can tighten his grip on Tsuna's legs, so that's what he does.

"I'm sorry," he says, forcing the words past the block in his throat and the rasp in his lungs. "I'm sorry. Don't. Hate me. Don't hate me. You can do anything. You can kill me. I won't stop you." He gasps for breath, his fingers digging furrows into the backs of Tsuna's knees with how tightly they're clutching.

"I'll stay right here. I won't move. Kill me. Just don't hate me. Tsuna," he sobs. He presses his nose further into the boy's stomach, squeezing his eyes shut until all he sees is black. "Ju-Juudaime. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He doesn't know what he's saying. He barely realizes what he's doing. He can't feel his own fingertips as they clutch at denim, or the wetness at his eyes as they're soaked up by cloth. He doesn't know anything. He can't think of anything.

So all he does is bury his face against Tsuna's belly and cries.

Hands whisper against the skin of his cheeks, and Tsuna slowly tilts his face up. Gokudera blinks away the haze in his eyes, drinking in the sight of him. Tsuna's eyes are wide, and as red as his own must be. His lips quiver. He is so very lovely. So very good. Gokudera wants to take his hands between his own and press them to his lips for an eternity.

Tsuna's hands falter, and then strengthen. "Come with me, Gokudera-kun," he asks.

Time has been acting far to oddly for its own good, recently. It should not be possible for the world to freeze so.

His answer is no. It has to be.

Byakuran is-

Savior, he thinks. Hero. Deliverer.

Liar. Manipulative. Murderer of innocents.

He-

hurt him.

Gokudera squeezes his eyes shut. His mind is pulling him in a thousand different directions, and all hyperboles in the world add up to nothing in the face of his despair. "I. I don't-"

The fingers at his cheeks spasm. "W-will you kill me? If you say no?" Tsuna whispers.

Gokudera sobs for breath at the very thought. "No. No, no. Never."

Tsuna sags, on for the first time Gokudera realizes how much the thought must have been plaguing him. He moans again in desperate agony and butts his forehead gently against Tsuna's chest, tightening his arms, as if his grip on the younger boy is the only thing keeping him from collapsing. He's not sure which one of them is breathing quicker now.

"Then what, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna begins, his voice so quiet Gokudera feels it, more than hears, "do you plan to do?"

Gokudera opens his mouth, but he has no answer. He just tightens his grip until he half-worries he'll cut off Tsuna's circulation.

Tsuna leans closer, his breath whispering across Gokudera's forehead. "Byakuran will kill you if you don't kill me. Won't he?"

Gokudera gulps for breath. "I-"

"I can hide you away," Tsuna says. He gnaws at his lip, and curls his hands into white hair. He pets at it once, before his hands once again slide down to cup pale cheeks. "I can. No one will find you. I have friends all over. Byakuran won't-"

"No," Gokudera whispers. The thought is so repugnant he thinks he might heave. He presses a hand to his throat. Closes his eyes. "I won't leave you."

"He'll kill you," Tsuna hisses.

"I'll protect you," Gokudera responds, as if his reply is the only one he knows.

"That's not an answer, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna moans. He pulls his hands away, and buries his face in them, the fingers parted so he peers down at the ground. "I can't...make you choose. If you love him that much. How can I make you choose? All I can do is hide you away so he won't steal you from me. If you'll hate me forever for forcing you to betray Byakuran...if you hate me for choosing me, how can I..." He hiccups. "How can I-"

And that is all the answer Gokudera needs.

Once upon a time, his mother told him a story, of a wise King and two different women, each claiming a babe as their own. Neither would give quarrel to the other, and finally, chagrined, the King threatened to cleave this child in two, and give one half to each mother. The false mother smiled and bowed, and complimented the good King on his intelligence. The true one sobbed and tore at her hair, and said no. No. Please give my baby to the other.

And as he kneels there, in that large, cluttered room, Gokudera realizes to whom his soul will always belong.

"It's not a choice," he whispers.

Something in Tsuna's face twists. His hands tremble on Gokudera's cheeks. "Oh," he whispers. "A-alright."

Gokudera laughs, just for a moment. "I meant you, foolish Tsuna," he says softly. He closes his eyes, and tilts his face further into those hands. Because he's selfish. Because he wants to feel this. Even if it's just once.

"Tsuna," he says. "Listen to me."

The boy standing above him gulps nervously, his eyes fluttering half-closed. "I'm listening."

Gokudera takes a breath. He feels dizzy. Hollowed out.

"I'll protect you," he says, again. "I said I would. And if that means..." His voice closes, but only for a moment, and then he laughs. Quietly, bitterly; but he laughs. "He was wrong, wasn't he?"

Tsuna closes his eyes. "Yes."

Ah.

The destruction of over a decade of knowledge and truth should feel more ground shattering than this. He destruction of a pedestal and a hero should be more mind blowing. Instead, all he sees are flimsy masquerades and half-known epiphanies and a blinding light beyond it all, and he thinks that he'll be okay.

"I'll stay with you," he breathes. Presses his lips to the place right below Tsuna's sternum, where he can feel the pulse of blood and life. "No matter what.

"Tsuna," he whispers, and his eyes flutter open to stare up at the boy standing before him. He is so very wonderful. "Tsuna. I love you."

Tsuna looks at him. His eyes are wide. Brown lashes create shadows upon high cheekbones. Gokudera wants to kiss him so badly.

And then Tsuna leans down and presses chaste, quivering lips to his own, and all thought leaves him in a rush of shock.

Tsuna's lips are chapped and dry against his, and he moves them timidly, as if he has not the slightest clue what he's doing. As if he's terrified of messing up. The hands on his cheeks shift, slide to cup the nape of his neck. Their mouths whisper together, and all air rushes out of Gokudera's lungs as if he's just been sucker-punched.

"You don't," he begins, trying to pull away and unable to muster the will to move further than Tsuna's neck. He pants again the skin there, squeezes his eyes shut so tight tears gather at the edges. "You don't have to do that. I'm not gonna go anywhere, even if you say no. You...don't have to..."

Tsuna shakes against him. The hands around his head tighten. "Yeah," he says. "I know."

Then those hands pull him away, pull him up, and red lips brush against his again and damn the world to hell, damn everything, everything. Nothing is as important as this. Nothing is as necessary, nothing as good, and Gokudera sobs against Tsuna's mouth and crushes that smaller body to him, slanting their lips together, and oh-

This can't last. Any minute now, Tsuna will pull away, and he will smile that sad smile, and that will be it, his moment of pity will be gone, and Gokudera will be left to pant after scraps once more. But for now, now-

He laves at Tsuna's lips, and slips his tongue inside when they part. His hands clench desperately at the fabric of his shirt, and his heart stutters at every spasm of Tsuna's hands against his shoulders.

"Tsuna," he whispers against his lips. "Tsuna."

Tsuna mumbles something incomprehensible into the kiss, and wraps his arms tighter.

He doesn't want to pull away. He doesn't want to leave. He wants this moment never to end - to spend an eternity here, with this boy in his arms, and these lips pressed against his.

He'd give anything for a chance. In some other world, some other lifetime. This boy could have saved him. He might have grown up alongside him, nurtured this fluttering feeling in his chest for years and years. Fought together, laughed together. Fireworks and snowball fights and kisses shared under the light of a crescent moon.

That world is not this one, and he presses Tsuna further into his chest as if the pressure will keep his pounding heart within its cage.

There is no worry, no fear, no desperate feeling of necessity and terror. Gokudera's mind is blank, and all that exists is this: only the feeling of hands around him and a mouth nestled against his own. Only the knowledge of hair brushing against his forehead, and a warm nose pressed flush with his cheeks. Byakuran is nothing more than a nightmare, a faraway memory of times long past. Tsuna is safe in his arms. He wants nothing else but for this moment to last forever.

It is a very long while before either of them moves, their arms still clutching at each other as if their very bodies are lifelines. Tsuna backs away first, his lips falling from Gokudera's and finding a home against the spot where neck meets shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says finally.

Gokudera can feel the flutter of eyelashes against his neck, and every sound Tsuna makes vibrates through him. His arms tighten. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I have a lot of things to be sorry for," Tsuna half-laughs. "I hurt you. A lot."

Gokudera closes his eyes, and breathes. "I hurt you first."

"That has nothing to do with anything," Tsuna says. He can feel the boy's smile curve against his neck. "But I am sorry. For everything. You've been sad since you came here."

"I've been trying to kill you since I came here," Gokudera mumbles. "I think I had a reason."

He feels Tsuna chuckle against his throat. Strange, how it's become something to laugh at. Strange, how not fifteen minutes ago, he was so prepare to die.

It's a welcome change. He can't remember how he ever lived without this feeling of ease.

"I'll make it up to you," he says.

Tsuna groans against his neck, and pulls back to beam awkwardly up at him. "We can make it up to each other. Start over. Rewind." His smile widens. It's still as warily hopeful as ever, but there is faith behind it. It makes something in the pit of Gokudera's stomach curl and simmer. He thinks he could get used to that feeling.

"Deal?" Tsuna whispers.

Gokudera-kun looks down at those huge brown eyes and that sheepish grin, and shifts himself that tiniest bit closer.

And for the first time in what seems like forever, he smiles.

***

It's not a perfect ending.

There is still Byakuran, and his promises of death. There is still the girl he must steal Tsuna wholly away from. There is still Hibari and his malice, Reborn and his distrust. There's still Yamamoto and Glo and Gamma.

Not perfect, no, if it can be called an ending at all.

But he'll try his best. And somehow, somehow-

Somehow, he'll make this work.

This war has not ended. Gokudera is not sure it ever will.

But there's a difference, now.