➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] 5927, 80; dial-tone Morse Code
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; 5927, 80
Rated: G
Summary: Broken telephone messages encoded for your heart.
(Written for the gokutsuna contest.)
Disclaimer: Gokudera Hayato, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi © Akira Amano
Title:
It starts with a stupid off-handed comment from the baseball freak, like it always does.
And Gokudera kind of hates it, the way Yamamoto says it so easily. "I'll call Tsuna after baseball practice and tell him we're still going to the movies tomorrow, okay?" Which is followed by, "Or you can do it -- huh? You don't have Tsuna's number? Haha, well, we used to play a lot when we were kids, so naturally..."
He hates being reminded that he wasn't there for Tsuna since the beginning. (But how could he be, back in Italy where the choir boys sung songs about angels at church and he sat at his piano making music for the deaf of hearing and chasing the shadows of paper airplanes.)
But he murmurs a flustered thank you as Yamamoto chews on the cap of a pen, looping an eight around his wrist; sideway infinity.
"There. Now you can tell him in my place, haha!"
"Shut up and go to your stupid practice."
It's only nerves, Gokudera tells himself, paces the four corners of his room like the four corners of the world. Like if he paced long enough, he would find a map, directions on how to call someone without breaking up. Static messages like lost bottles at sea.
It's almost 12 AM when he finally works up the courage to call Tsuna, fingers clenched tight around the wires of his phone as he listens to dial tone after dial tone pressed against his ear. He's about to give up on the fourth ring, but a groggy voice greets him right at the start of the fifth.
"H-hello, Sawada residence?"
"T-Tenth--?"
"Gokudera-kun?" There's a wakefulness in Tsuna's voice now, a caffeine effect from Gokudera's voice carrying to his senses. "Why're you calling so late? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Tenth!"
"N-no, it's fine, just -- what's the matter?"
Gokudera's all smiles and good-nature. The Tenth doesn't mind him calling, he thinks. He can still be useful and talk to him even after they've all gone home! "I just wanted to tell you that we're still on for the movie tomorrow -- if you still are, of course, Tenth!"
A pause. "Eh? That's it? Yamamoto already called me earlier about that."
"He... did?"
"Yeah." A yawn. "Is there anything else?"
He feels himself deflating, cursing that stupid idiot in his mind. Didn't he say Gokudera could call in his place? Leave it to him to always mess things up! "No, that's it. I just wanted to tell you in case he forgot to."
"Ah, okay. He actually called in case you forgot." A nervous laugh. "Uhm -- I was sleeping earlier, so..."
"O-of course, Tenth! Please accept my apologies for waking you up and calling late!"
"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah... See you."
A click, dial tone.
How awkward.
After walking Tsuna to his house after the movies, Gokudera rushes home, finger on his speed dial as soon as he kicks off his shoes. He tosses his bag in the corner where it rots next to the other objects Gokudera considers flammable enough to be test subjects when he experiments with dynamite.
"Sawada residence?"
"Tenth!" Gokudera exclaims, punches the air at the fact that he was able to call before Yamamoto. Gokudera: 1, Yamamoto: 0, says the scoreboard in Gokudera's head. He doesn't count the first time (he doesn't count his losses). "How are you? Did you enjoy the movie? My offer to blow up the guy who bumped into you when you got popcorn still stands!"
"No! It's fine! G-Gokudera-kun, you just saw me about ten minutes ago!"
"I know, but we never really got to talk by ourselves since that stupid baseball freak is always around." He huffs, his aggravation carrying through, easy to read like how he always is, on or off the phone.
"I guess, but I never really have much to say anyway -- ah, Lambo! Put that down! Uhm, I have to go, Gokudera-kun. We'll talk later?"
"Eh? Ah, sure, Tenth. Whatever you want."
The click on the other side hits him like a ton of bricks, like the sound of a lock pressed against his ear.
He hangs up.
For the next few days, Gokudera holes himself up in the library, "Phone Conversations for Dummies" tucked behind a book about chemistry. He scribbles down notes on a piece of paper and shoves the rims of his glasses up with his pen.
The conversation he has with Tsuna's mom is swell. Tsuna just asks if Gokudera's feeling okay.
And it's not like phone conversations really mean anything in the real world (except that they do). It's just that it's another way to get closer to the Tenth and learn more about him, which is why he's trying to master it. But each conversation lasts for a span of about five to ten minutes before Tsuna mutters an excuse about having to go, nervous voice and shaky breaths that he releases between chapped lips. The kids are fighting again, Reborn's tutoring him about something, his mom needs him to help prepare dinner.
But what was he expecting anyway, Gokudera muses. He blows a puff of smoke into the air and shapes it like the way he feels. Distorted, wispy. Not quite all there.
How long did he want the conversations to last, anyway? Hours? Days?
... Well, it would be nice.
A week and a half later, Tsuna plops himself down beside Gokudera. Gokudera, who seems to have lost his voice through the wires that connect the city and sits on the school steps smoking even when the teachers threaten him with suspension.
Tsuna draws his knees up to his chest and traces his fingers in circles across the pavement. Circles, eights, sideway infinities.
"I'm sorry about our phone conversations, Gokudera-kun."
Gokudera flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushes it with his heel until the fire goes out. "What are you sorry for, Tenth? It's fine! You're busy with a lot and I don't want to waste your time with phone calls. They're stupid anyway, we see each other everyday."
Tsuna shrugs. "Yeah, but -- n-no, wait. They're not stupid! I just, uhm. I'm not that good at talking on the phone. Or face to face, s-so..." Deep breath. "I get nervous, I guess. And everything at my house is always so hectic, so things are always getting in the way." He props his chin down against his knees as his finger tries to chase the shadows of a bird, of a living paper airplane with multicoloured wings. "I've never had someone want to talk to me on the phone before."
"If it makes you uncomfortable, Tenth --" Gokudera tenses, ready to throw himself onto the ground to beg for forgiveness. Seven plus days, and all he's been is an annoyance, it's the stupid baseball freak's fault for starting all of this anyway, except not, but --
"N-no, that's not what I'm trying to say -- I was just thinking that, ah. M-maybe we can take turns calling each other? After we finish dinner. Around seven? That way, we can talk more. I'm interested in Gokudera-kun, too."
"... I -- ah. I'd like that, Tenth."
That night at seven, Gokudera's phone rings, causing him to jump ten feet into the air before he leaps over toward his desk to answer before the second ring kicks in.
"G-Gokudera here."
There's a squeak on the other side, a timid puff of air before, "Gokudera-kun?"
"Tenth! How are you? Did you have a good dinner?"
"Y-yeah... I'm okay. Dinner was fine. What about you?"
"I-I'm great!" He can feel his heart beating against his chest, ba-dump, ba-dump, loud enough that he swears Tsuna could hear it. Can see the smile on his face as he pulls out his chair and pretends he hasn't just run half way across his room just to answer the call. He feels light, like a paper airplane soaring as he pens in a discovered island on his map of self discovery.
They laugh a bit and make small talk for the next half hour. It's as awkward as it's always been ("I don't know if we should be talking about Vongola on the phone like this, haha..."), but it's been almost two weeks going and Gokudera finally feels like he's winning.
"I-it's your turn to call tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Good night, Tenth."
"'Night."
Click.
When they talk, they never pass the 7:30 mark. Gokudera keeps track of the time on a piece of paper he's pinned up next to his phone to see if he can make new records every time, but he only passes by a few seconds. Never minutes.
He asks questions and Tsuna answers, quiet and small like he's always been. They talk and Gokudera listens because the Tenth's said he's never had anyone whose wanted to listen before, but there's only so much one person can say. Only so much you can reveal without feeling too exposed.
But it's not like they talk about much anyway. The weather, what happened in class today, homework, how they're feeling, what they had for dinner.
The clock strikes 7:30 PM.
"I have to --"
"-- go, yeah, I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Tenth."
"See you, Gokudera-kun."
"I heard that you've been talking to Tsuna lately!"
Yamamoto laughs, grins and slaps Gokudera's back as the two walk home. Gokudera pushes him away. "None of your business."
"Too bad he couldn't walk home today with us, huh. I heard you tried to get Longchamp to trade dates with you so you could help him out. Didn't work?"
"Shut up."
Another laugh, and Yamamoto stretches. Casual, smooth, like the way he talks. Like the way Yamamoto's always been. Gokudera still hates him for it. "But hey, so, talking to Tsuna? How's that going?"
"What do you care?"
"I'm a friend, aren't I? Hey, we should to a three-way conference sometime! Haha, this one time, I was talking to one of the guys on the team? And he put this girl on the other line to try to make us talk. Don't know why he would do that --"
"Does it look like I care, baseball freak?"
A shrug. "Sometimes, you have to talk back instead of just listening all the time. I know Tsuna prefers listening over talking about himself, but you know that now, huh. Conversations go both ways, but I like filling in the gaps for you."
Gokudera stops dead in his tracks, face blank, expression neutral. His furrows his eyebrows before he resumes his pace again, catching up to Yamamoto who stopped a small way ahead once he noticed Gokudera had stopped walking.
"Sometimes people need to learn to shut the hell up, too." He punches Yamamoto in the shoulder, but it's gentle.
"Gokudera-kun?"
"Tenth! How are you?"
"Okay. What about you?"
"I'm great! How was cleaning today? Longchamp wasn't giving you a hard time, was he? I'll kill that bastard if he --"
"N-no, it was fine, Gokudera-kun! We actually cleaned up pretty quick today because he wanted to be on time for his date with his new girlfriend."
"That's good, then!"
"Haha, I guess..."
"... Ah, hey. We passed Namimori shrine today walking home, me and the baseball freak."
"R-really?"
"Yeah! It reminded me of that time we went to see the fireworks and made chocobanana. I -- had a lot of fun that day. With you."
"Yeah, I did too."
"The, uh, the fireworks are a lot better than the ones you see in Italy!"
"Eh? What are those ones like?"
"Less flashy. Not enough colours. All sort of the same, really. But here in Japan, there are so many kinds of fireworks being made and events happening all the time! I like it here a lot better than Italy."
"I'd like to see Italy sometime. I've never been out of the country before, e-except to Mafialand..."
"-- I'll go with you! I'll make fireworks for you too! Much better ones than Japan and Italy put together because that's what the Tenth deserves!"
The sound of Tsuna's laughter echoes through the phone to Gokudera's ears. Not nervous or small, but calm and cheerful. Gokudera releases the breath he never knew he was holding as the clock hits 7:30.
"I guess you have to go now, huh, Tenth?"
There's a pause before Tsuna replies. 7:31 PM. "I -- have a bit more time today to talk. I-if you still want to."
"R-really? I'd be honoured, Tenth!"
"... S-so, uhm. What's Italy like?"
Tsuna's cellphone rings twice before he picks it up, murmuring a groggy hello as he sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as sunlight pours in from his hotel room on the twenty-seventh floor.
"Morning, Tenth. Did I wake you up?"
"It's fine, Gokudera-kun." He yawns, covering it with his hand. "I should be up anyway, but the jet lag is killing me. How's everything over in Japan?"
"Everything's going smoothly, as always. Your trip to Italy's been enjoyable so far? I'm sorry I wasn't able to go with you this time."
Tsuna laughs, stretching his limbs as he steps into his slippers and heads toward the window's view. "Someone has to stay behind to watch the Japanese base for me, right, right hand man?"
There's an answering chuckle, a soft sigh. "Yeah, that's right."
"But you have to come with me next time, okay?"
"Of course."
Tsuna smiles, watches the rivers of Venice sweep past his feet nineteen stories down, the waters flowing under and over bridges like sideway infinity signs. Like endless oceans on maps still undiscovered.
Like looped phone cords connecting people all over the world, who send static messages in lost bottles at sea to be found and read between the lines.
"So what's up?"
"Nothing much."
"Really?"
"Yeah. ... T-Tsuna?"
A pause, silence.
"Yes?"
"I guess I just missed (you)r voice."
"... I know, Hayato."
Me too.
Rated: G
Summary: Broken telephone messages encoded for your heart.
(Written for the gokutsuna contest.)
Disclaimer: Gokudera Hayato, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi © Akira Amano
Title:
It starts with a stupid off-handed comment from the baseball freak, like it always does.
And Gokudera kind of hates it, the way Yamamoto says it so easily. "I'll call Tsuna after baseball practice and tell him we're still going to the movies tomorrow, okay?" Which is followed by, "Or you can do it -- huh? You don't have Tsuna's number? Haha, well, we used to play a lot when we were kids, so naturally..."
He hates being reminded that he wasn't there for Tsuna since the beginning. (But how could he be, back in Italy where the choir boys sung songs about angels at church and he sat at his piano making music for the deaf of hearing and chasing the shadows of paper airplanes.)
But he murmurs a flustered thank you as Yamamoto chews on the cap of a pen, looping an eight around his wrist; sideway infinity.
"There. Now you can tell him in my place, haha!"
"Shut up and go to your stupid practice."
It's only nerves, Gokudera tells himself, paces the four corners of his room like the four corners of the world. Like if he paced long enough, he would find a map, directions on how to call someone without breaking up. Static messages like lost bottles at sea.
It's almost 12 AM when he finally works up the courage to call Tsuna, fingers clenched tight around the wires of his phone as he listens to dial tone after dial tone pressed against his ear. He's about to give up on the fourth ring, but a groggy voice greets him right at the start of the fifth.
"H-hello, Sawada residence?"
"T-Tenth--?"
"Gokudera-kun?" There's a wakefulness in Tsuna's voice now, a caffeine effect from Gokudera's voice carrying to his senses. "Why're you calling so late? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Tenth!"
"N-no, it's fine, just -- what's the matter?"
Gokudera's all smiles and good-nature. The Tenth doesn't mind him calling, he thinks. He can still be useful and talk to him even after they've all gone home! "I just wanted to tell you that we're still on for the movie tomorrow -- if you still are, of course, Tenth!"
A pause. "Eh? That's it? Yamamoto already called me earlier about that."
"He... did?"
"Yeah." A yawn. "Is there anything else?"
He feels himself deflating, cursing that stupid idiot in his mind. Didn't he say Gokudera could call in his place? Leave it to him to always mess things up! "No, that's it. I just wanted to tell you in case he forgot to."
"Ah, okay. He actually called in case you forgot." A nervous laugh. "Uhm -- I was sleeping earlier, so..."
"O-of course, Tenth! Please accept my apologies for waking you up and calling late!"
"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah... See you."
A click, dial tone.
How awkward.
After walking Tsuna to his house after the movies, Gokudera rushes home, finger on his speed dial as soon as he kicks off his shoes. He tosses his bag in the corner where it rots next to the other objects Gokudera considers flammable enough to be test subjects when he experiments with dynamite.
"Sawada residence?"
"Tenth!" Gokudera exclaims, punches the air at the fact that he was able to call before Yamamoto. Gokudera: 1, Yamamoto: 0, says the scoreboard in Gokudera's head. He doesn't count the first time (he doesn't count his losses). "How are you? Did you enjoy the movie? My offer to blow up the guy who bumped into you when you got popcorn still stands!"
"No! It's fine! G-Gokudera-kun, you just saw me about ten minutes ago!"
"I know, but we never really got to talk by ourselves since that stupid baseball freak is always around." He huffs, his aggravation carrying through, easy to read like how he always is, on or off the phone.
"I guess, but I never really have much to say anyway -- ah, Lambo! Put that down! Uhm, I have to go, Gokudera-kun. We'll talk later?"
"Eh? Ah, sure, Tenth. Whatever you want."
The click on the other side hits him like a ton of bricks, like the sound of a lock pressed against his ear.
He hangs up.
For the next few days, Gokudera holes himself up in the library, "Phone Conversations for Dummies" tucked behind a book about chemistry. He scribbles down notes on a piece of paper and shoves the rims of his glasses up with his pen.
The conversation he has with Tsuna's mom is swell. Tsuna just asks if Gokudera's feeling okay.
And it's not like phone conversations really mean anything in the real world (except that they do). It's just that it's another way to get closer to the Tenth and learn more about him, which is why he's trying to master it. But each conversation lasts for a span of about five to ten minutes before Tsuna mutters an excuse about having to go, nervous voice and shaky breaths that he releases between chapped lips. The kids are fighting again, Reborn's tutoring him about something, his mom needs him to help prepare dinner.
But what was he expecting anyway, Gokudera muses. He blows a puff of smoke into the air and shapes it like the way he feels. Distorted, wispy. Not quite all there.
How long did he want the conversations to last, anyway? Hours? Days?
... Well, it would be nice.
A week and a half later, Tsuna plops himself down beside Gokudera. Gokudera, who seems to have lost his voice through the wires that connect the city and sits on the school steps smoking even when the teachers threaten him with suspension.
Tsuna draws his knees up to his chest and traces his fingers in circles across the pavement. Circles, eights, sideway infinities.
"I'm sorry about our phone conversations, Gokudera-kun."
Gokudera flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushes it with his heel until the fire goes out. "What are you sorry for, Tenth? It's fine! You're busy with a lot and I don't want to waste your time with phone calls. They're stupid anyway, we see each other everyday."
Tsuna shrugs. "Yeah, but -- n-no, wait. They're not stupid! I just, uhm. I'm not that good at talking on the phone. Or face to face, s-so..." Deep breath. "I get nervous, I guess. And everything at my house is always so hectic, so things are always getting in the way." He props his chin down against his knees as his finger tries to chase the shadows of a bird, of a living paper airplane with multicoloured wings. "I've never had someone want to talk to me on the phone before."
"If it makes you uncomfortable, Tenth --" Gokudera tenses, ready to throw himself onto the ground to beg for forgiveness. Seven plus days, and all he's been is an annoyance, it's the stupid baseball freak's fault for starting all of this anyway, except not, but --
"N-no, that's not what I'm trying to say -- I was just thinking that, ah. M-maybe we can take turns calling each other? After we finish dinner. Around seven? That way, we can talk more. I'm interested in Gokudera-kun, too."
"... I -- ah. I'd like that, Tenth."
That night at seven, Gokudera's phone rings, causing him to jump ten feet into the air before he leaps over toward his desk to answer before the second ring kicks in.
"G-Gokudera here."
There's a squeak on the other side, a timid puff of air before, "Gokudera-kun?"
"Tenth! How are you? Did you have a good dinner?"
"Y-yeah... I'm okay. Dinner was fine. What about you?"
"I-I'm great!" He can feel his heart beating against his chest, ba-dump, ba-dump, loud enough that he swears Tsuna could hear it. Can see the smile on his face as he pulls out his chair and pretends he hasn't just run half way across his room just to answer the call. He feels light, like a paper airplane soaring as he pens in a discovered island on his map of self discovery.
They laugh a bit and make small talk for the next half hour. It's as awkward as it's always been ("I don't know if we should be talking about Vongola on the phone like this, haha..."), but it's been almost two weeks going and Gokudera finally feels like he's winning.
"I-it's your turn to call tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Good night, Tenth."
"'Night."
Click.
When they talk, they never pass the 7:30 mark. Gokudera keeps track of the time on a piece of paper he's pinned up next to his phone to see if he can make new records every time, but he only passes by a few seconds. Never minutes.
He asks questions and Tsuna answers, quiet and small like he's always been. They talk and Gokudera listens because the Tenth's said he's never had anyone whose wanted to listen before, but there's only so much one person can say. Only so much you can reveal without feeling too exposed.
But it's not like they talk about much anyway. The weather, what happened in class today, homework, how they're feeling, what they had for dinner.
The clock strikes 7:30 PM.
"I have to --"
"-- go, yeah, I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Tenth."
"See you, Gokudera-kun."
"I heard that you've been talking to Tsuna lately!"
Yamamoto laughs, grins and slaps Gokudera's back as the two walk home. Gokudera pushes him away. "None of your business."
"Too bad he couldn't walk home today with us, huh. I heard you tried to get Longchamp to trade dates with you so you could help him out. Didn't work?"
"Shut up."
Another laugh, and Yamamoto stretches. Casual, smooth, like the way he talks. Like the way Yamamoto's always been. Gokudera still hates him for it. "But hey, so, talking to Tsuna? How's that going?"
"What do you care?"
"I'm a friend, aren't I? Hey, we should to a three-way conference sometime! Haha, this one time, I was talking to one of the guys on the team? And he put this girl on the other line to try to make us talk. Don't know why he would do that --"
"Does it look like I care, baseball freak?"
A shrug. "Sometimes, you have to talk back instead of just listening all the time. I know Tsuna prefers listening over talking about himself, but you know that now, huh. Conversations go both ways, but I like filling in the gaps for you."
Gokudera stops dead in his tracks, face blank, expression neutral. His furrows his eyebrows before he resumes his pace again, catching up to Yamamoto who stopped a small way ahead once he noticed Gokudera had stopped walking.
"Sometimes people need to learn to shut the hell up, too." He punches Yamamoto in the shoulder, but it's gentle.
"Gokudera-kun?"
"Tenth! How are you?"
"Okay. What about you?"
"I'm great! How was cleaning today? Longchamp wasn't giving you a hard time, was he? I'll kill that bastard if he --"
"N-no, it was fine, Gokudera-kun! We actually cleaned up pretty quick today because he wanted to be on time for his date with his new girlfriend."
"That's good, then!"
"Haha, I guess..."
"... Ah, hey. We passed Namimori shrine today walking home, me and the baseball freak."
"R-really?"
"Yeah! It reminded me of that time we went to see the fireworks and made chocobanana. I -- had a lot of fun that day. With you."
"Yeah, I did too."
"The, uh, the fireworks are a lot better than the ones you see in Italy!"
"Eh? What are those ones like?"
"Less flashy. Not enough colours. All sort of the same, really. But here in Japan, there are so many kinds of fireworks being made and events happening all the time! I like it here a lot better than Italy."
"I'd like to see Italy sometime. I've never been out of the country before, e-except to Mafialand..."
"-- I'll go with you! I'll make fireworks for you too! Much better ones than Japan and Italy put together because that's what the Tenth deserves!"
The sound of Tsuna's laughter echoes through the phone to Gokudera's ears. Not nervous or small, but calm and cheerful. Gokudera releases the breath he never knew he was holding as the clock hits 7:30.
"I guess you have to go now, huh, Tenth?"
There's a pause before Tsuna replies. 7:31 PM. "I -- have a bit more time today to talk. I-if you still want to."
"R-really? I'd be honoured, Tenth!"
"... S-so, uhm. What's Italy like?"
Tsuna's cellphone rings twice before he picks it up, murmuring a groggy hello as he sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as sunlight pours in from his hotel room on the twenty-seventh floor.
"Morning, Tenth. Did I wake you up?"
"It's fine, Gokudera-kun." He yawns, covering it with his hand. "I should be up anyway, but the jet lag is killing me. How's everything over in Japan?"
"Everything's going smoothly, as always. Your trip to Italy's been enjoyable so far? I'm sorry I wasn't able to go with you this time."
Tsuna laughs, stretching his limbs as he steps into his slippers and heads toward the window's view. "Someone has to stay behind to watch the Japanese base for me, right, right hand man?"
There's an answering chuckle, a soft sigh. "Yeah, that's right."
"But you have to come with me next time, okay?"
"Of course."
Tsuna smiles, watches the rivers of Venice sweep past his feet nineteen stories down, the waters flowing under and over bridges like sideway infinity signs. Like endless oceans on maps still undiscovered.
Like looped phone cords connecting people all over the world, who send static messages in lost bottles at sea to be found and read between the lines.
"So what's up?"
"Nothing much."
"Really?"
"Yeah. ... T-Tsuna?"
A pause, silence.
"Yes?"
"I guess I just missed (you)r voice."
"... I know, Hayato."
Me too.