Suddenly You Seemed So Right; [CLOSED]
WHO: Hayato Gokudera {10thcomplex} & Takeshi Yamamoto {obliviousfamily}.
WHAT: Bandage-up time!
WHERE: Tsuna's Mansion
WHEN: After this - Day 315, afternoon
No matter how many times he did it, he never managed without difficulties. Of course, given an hour or two he would always get there in the end but only to have just as much problems with it the next time. Hissing out a couple of curses - a mixture of Japanese (that was mostly too friendly) and some other rather fitting ones in Italian - Gokudera threw the second roll of bloodied, crumpled bandage to the floor, his hands plastered with sticky tape, drying blood and ink. This wasn’t getting anywhere.
Having gotten rid of the confounded bandage that had initially caused this minor rage attack, the Storm Guardian frowned, crossing a leg over the other and decided to simply wait. Yamamoto had offered to help him and by the looks of it he wouldn’t be able to do this himself before he arrived. Something in his chest tingled unpleasantly at the prospect of receiving - and needing - help but he supposed that there was nothing else to be done. His hands, scarred with wounds and by now hurting a lot more than before due to the constant ripping off of bandages and reapplying them, were clumsy and sticky and wouldn’t be of much use to him anymore. And after all, it was only Yamamoto.
Only Yamamoto. A couple of weeks ago, the mere thought of that crossing his mind in a time like this would have been impossible. He would have refused his help - blank out - would have chased him away with insults, insisting that he did not need an idiot to mess things up for him. What in hell had changed so fast?
Sighing slightly to himself, Gokudera looked down at his ruined hands. It was … awkward - this change in pace, this sudden friendship - but, at the same time, much less lonely. And that, in turn, was even more awkward.
WHAT: Bandage-up time!
WHERE: Tsuna's Mansion
WHEN: After this - Day 315, afternoon
No matter how many times he did it, he never managed without difficulties. Of course, given an hour or two he would always get there in the end but only to have just as much problems with it the next time. Hissing out a couple of curses - a mixture of Japanese (that was mostly too friendly) and some other rather fitting ones in Italian - Gokudera threw the second roll of bloodied, crumpled bandage to the floor, his hands plastered with sticky tape, drying blood and ink. This wasn’t getting anywhere.
Having gotten rid of the confounded bandage that had initially caused this minor rage attack, the Storm Guardian frowned, crossing a leg over the other and decided to simply wait. Yamamoto had offered to help him and by the looks of it he wouldn’t be able to do this himself before he arrived. Something in his chest tingled unpleasantly at the prospect of receiving - and needing - help but he supposed that there was nothing else to be done. His hands, scarred with wounds and by now hurting a lot more than before due to the constant ripping off of bandages and reapplying them, were clumsy and sticky and wouldn’t be of much use to him anymore. And after all, it was only Yamamoto.
Only Yamamoto. A couple of weeks ago, the mere thought of that crossing his mind in a time like this would have been impossible. He would have refused his help - blank out - would have chased him away with insults, insisting that he did not need an idiot to mess things up for him. What in hell had changed so fast?
Sighing slightly to himself, Gokudera looked down at his ruined hands. It was … awkward - this change in pace, this sudden friendship - but, at the same time, much less lonely. And that, in turn, was even more awkward.