if your destiny is a miracle, please stay
Title: if your destiny is a miracle, please stay
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Gokudera Hayato
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: And he's no longer running.
A/N: A belated birthday fic for Gokkun. ♥
if your destiny is a miracle, please stay
All it takes is all you got.
--Marc Davis
In his dreams, he’s always running. From something (someone, himself), or towards something, a door that is always too far to reach, a person who won’t stop, no matter how loud he shouts.
(He tries to tell himself that they’re just dreams, they mean nothing, but then he remembers the psychology books and the subconscious and really, how is he supposed to explain why his throat is sore when he wakes.)
But sometimes, when he’s standing on an abandoned alleyway, the slumped forms of his opponents barely visible in the night but the sickly smell of blood still nauseating in the air, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’d rather be in his dreams, running towards something (and he wants it, he wants it so much it hurts, even though he has no idea what it is), than continuing this farce that someone named existence.
(No one wants him, he knows, because what good can a useless kid like him be, when all he knows is runningrunningrunning and the smell of gunpowder and the fact that loneliness sometimes hurts more than a physical wound.)
So, when he gets the letter bearing the crest of the Vongola and sees the plane ticket (Japan, one-way, Reborn must be sure of himself and this so-called Vongola Tenth), he thinks that well, why not, it’s not like he has anything to lose, anymore.
(He expects disappointment. What he finds is a meaning.)
FIN
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Gokudera Hayato
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: And he's no longer running.
A/N: A belated birthday fic for Gokkun. ♥
if your destiny is a miracle, please stay
All it takes is all you got.
--Marc Davis
In his dreams, he’s always running. From something (someone, himself), or towards something, a door that is always too far to reach, a person who won’t stop, no matter how loud he shouts.
(He tries to tell himself that they’re just dreams, they mean nothing, but then he remembers the psychology books and the subconscious and really, how is he supposed to explain why his throat is sore when he wakes.)
But sometimes, when he’s standing on an abandoned alleyway, the slumped forms of his opponents barely visible in the night but the sickly smell of blood still nauseating in the air, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’d rather be in his dreams, running towards something (and he wants it, he wants it so much it hurts, even though he has no idea what it is), than continuing this farce that someone named existence.
(No one wants him, he knows, because what good can a useless kid like him be, when all he knows is runningrunningrunning and the smell of gunpowder and the fact that loneliness sometimes hurts more than a physical wound.)
So, when he gets the letter bearing the crest of the Vongola and sees the plane ticket (Japan, one-way, Reborn must be sure of himself and this so-called Vongola Tenth), he thinks that well, why not, it’s not like he has anything to lose, anymore.
(He expects disappointment. What he finds is a meaning.)
FIN