Another Drabbly Drabble
Alright, another drabble for the
100moods
community. This time it's for Pensive!
And if you can't tell, this is pretty much going to be my writing account for all of my fanfics and chapters of my original series, Therapy Recommended. As soon as I'm back on dA I'll be ranting on there XD
Title: #072: Pensive
Pairing: 8059
Rating: PG13 [for language]
072: Pensive
He could understand putting so much passion into a game; it was what he had been doing his entire life. But Yamamoto knew it wasn’t supposed to hurt that much to see Gokudera caught in the explosion from the wind turbines and it wasn’t supposed to be so frightening to see his whole body trembling and his eyes watering and barely able to stay open, and he wasn’t supposed to be so scared for his life when he slipped out of consciousness and his wrists slipped out of his hands.
Takeshi knew that no one died from playing pretend. No one could die from a battle between fireworks and sharp butter knives attached to strings. But even his simple mind knew the answer to the question in his mind, and he really wanted to avoid it.
He knew Gokudera was going to be awake, even if Romario had warned him to rest and calm down because he would be ranting about protecting Tsuna (And now that he thought about it, was Tsuna really supposed to be a mafia boss like the little kid always said? Is he the only one who didn’t take him seriously?) and wanting to go outside to smoke a cigarette. Yamamoto grabbed the scratched cell phone out of his school bag and called the injured Storm Guardian (who was, of course, on his speed dial).
After a few rings, a raspy and drowsy voice answered with “What do you want, baseball freak?”
“Haha, how did you know?” he asked.
“It’s something called Caller ID dipshit. You’re lucky I’m awake.” Gokudera could hear something in the way that Yamamoto laughed. It was missing…something. That extra dash of annoying enthusiasm and joy that was there.
“I knew you’d be awake. Did you have a cigarette when you got a chance to rest?”
“Naturally.” Why was it bothering him so much that the idiot didn’t seem like his bothersome happy self? “So did you call just to ask me if I smoked or is there something else you wanted to ask me, freak?”
“Yeah, actually, there is.”
Silence.
“Well what the fuck is it?”
“This mafia stuff isn’t just a game, is it?”
More silence.
“Well no shit Sherlock, did you just figure that out now?”
“Heh, kind of,” he said, still trying to take the situation lightly when everything around him was collapsing in his mind “it just didn’t match up.”
“What didn’t match up?”
“My heart wouldn’t have been beating that fast if I knew you were going to come out of that fight alive.” Gokudera was stunned by his reply (not just because of its depth) and couldn’t answer. Frightened by the silence on the other line, Yamamoto went on. “Wait, I’m sorry if that came out wrong. It’s just, I know what it’s like to be really passionate about a game since baseball has taken over my life and I feel this thrill whenever I play. But my heartbeat has never been that fast because of a game and I’ve never really been scared because I knew that if we lost a game, everything would be okay. But when the explosion went off, it felt like I was really going to lose you.”
There was still silence on Gokudera’s end of the phone. “Hayato? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here.” he said crossly
“Are you mad at me?”
“Actually, I don’t know whether to feel all mushy and touched and all that crap or to go over to your stupid sushi house and punch the living shit out of you.”
“Don’t do the second one or you might open up your wounds!” Yamamoto warned
“Can I get off the phone now or are you just going to waste my fucking time?”
“No, wait, I want to say something else!” Gokudera grumbled stayed on the line. “I promise that I’ll win tomorrow so that I don’t make you feel the same way I did today.”
“As if I’ll get nervous just because you fuck up a technique or something,” Gokudera scoffed and pressed the end call button on his cell phone and placed it back on his nightstand. He pulled the covers over his bandaged body and tried to fall asleep.
Fifteen minutes later he turned on his side to see if it would help.
Another fifteen minutes later he turned onto his stomach.
Another half hour and Gokudera reached for his cell phone and dialed the number two to call Yamamoto’s cell phone (so what if it was on speed dial? Was that supposed to matter or something?). He had turned it off for the night and his answering machine playing Hello! I’m not able to answer right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you when I get the chance to! and Gokudera gulped before saying what really came to his mind.
“Hey Yamamoto, listen, it’s not like I’ve stayed up all night just to hear your dumbass voice, but I just want to say that everything’s going to be okay. As long as you don’t fuck it all up, because you’re going to be the one who turns this around, for all of us. And you promised you’d win, so now you’ll just look like a jackass if you don’t.”
Gokudera paused again and grabbed a fistful of sheets and sighed.
“Don’t break your promise. I don’t want to see you as dead as I was."