If this isn't faith, you're not sure what is...
Title: Loss
Pairing: Yamamoto Takeshi x Gokudera Hayato; 8059 if you squint that is
Rating: G
Summary: Yamamoto loses sight of Tsuna in a recon mission, Gokudera is not as forgiving and Yamamoto is prepared.
A/N: My first foray into KHR ;D And trying to write like a boy would, in a new style no less. Forgive my inadequacies ne?
This is all your fault," you say for the umpteenth time. It's always his fault, you convince yourself, rolling your eyes at him.
He doesn't deny it and it frustrates you. You turn tail and walk briskly ahead, eyes darting all over for a shred of familiarity, desperate for a clue. Your senses are on hyper alert for the one person that matters, forgetting that another is always watching your back.
"He's old enough to take care of himself," Yamamoto says from behind. You don't need to turn around to see his good-natured smile. You can feel that careless attitude of his taunting you quietly. You know he doesn't mean any of it but it doesn't stop your irrational frustration from escalating.
"Baseball idiot," you mumble loud enough for him to hear. You hear him laugh and it sounds strangely like the Tenth. You strain your ears.
"He's probably playing... hide and seek with us." Games. It's always a game to him. You think he doesn't understand why you fear.
Suddenly you stop short, facing him with green eyes blazing. You see a knuckle collide against his cheek and it makes you wonder why someone of his calibre doesn't dodge it. It is only after you hear the dull thud of his cheekbone against your scrapped knuckle that you realise that the hand was yours. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even move on impact. The stupid jock simply stood brazenly before you, silently absorbing the pain. He was like an immovable mountain, no like a stone statue, almost as though he was expect... Fuck.
You feel your breath catch and your eyes widen with realisation. That fucker. Yamamoto accepted the hit like a punishment he deserved and you hate his righteous indignation.
"You asked for it," you say brusquely, not for his benefit but for yours. You needed to believe that he made you do this. That's for losing the Tenth, you baseball nut.
He strains to smile at your words and you know it hurts to lift that cheekbone but you don't stop him. All you do is stare harder back at those dark eyes, as if that would wipe the grin of his stupid face. It's not a prickling feeling but like a surge of warmth enveloping you, familiar and reassuring. You know that gaze better than you know the Tenth. That intense gaze had been watching your back, always fiercely protective.
You wait for his response but all he does is smile blankly at you. You unclench your knuckles to see half moon dents on your palm and you bite your lips harder. He ruffles your hair like he always does and on auto-reflex you try to swat his hand away but he's too quick for you.
"Now we're even," he says and you take it as an insult. Baseball freak.
"Do that again and I'll blow your damn hand off," you grumble as you run a hand through your hair, all the while glaring. He laughs at your fangless threat and as if nothing happened, slings a hand over your shoulder but you don't fight him.
"It'll be alright," he says and you're not sure why you want to believe but his silent understanding makes the guilt on your knuckle fade.
"We'll find Tsuna together," he says but you find release instead, not that you would admit it.
If it's him, it's possible, you decide, not before shoving him off your back. He makes a face at you and you curse aloud.
Fucking jocks. Now where the hell is the Tenth?
Pairing: Yamamoto Takeshi x Gokudera Hayato; 8059 if you squint that is
Rating: G
Summary: Yamamoto loses sight of Tsuna in a recon mission, Gokudera is not as forgiving and Yamamoto is prepared.
A/N: My first foray into KHR ;D And trying to write like a boy would, in a new style no less. Forgive my inadequacies ne?
This is all your fault," you say for the umpteenth time. It's always his fault, you convince yourself, rolling your eyes at him.
He doesn't deny it and it frustrates you. You turn tail and walk briskly ahead, eyes darting all over for a shred of familiarity, desperate for a clue. Your senses are on hyper alert for the one person that matters, forgetting that another is always watching your back.
"He's old enough to take care of himself," Yamamoto says from behind. You don't need to turn around to see his good-natured smile. You can feel that careless attitude of his taunting you quietly. You know he doesn't mean any of it but it doesn't stop your irrational frustration from escalating.
"Baseball idiot," you mumble loud enough for him to hear. You hear him laugh and it sounds strangely like the Tenth. You strain your ears.
"He's probably playing... hide and seek with us." Games. It's always a game to him. You think he doesn't understand why you fear.
Suddenly you stop short, facing him with green eyes blazing. You see a knuckle collide against his cheek and it makes you wonder why someone of his calibre doesn't dodge it. It is only after you hear the dull thud of his cheekbone against your scrapped knuckle that you realise that the hand was yours. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even move on impact. The stupid jock simply stood brazenly before you, silently absorbing the pain. He was like an immovable mountain, no like a stone statue, almost as though he was expect... Fuck.
You feel your breath catch and your eyes widen with realisation. That fucker. Yamamoto accepted the hit like a punishment he deserved and you hate his righteous indignation.
"You asked for it," you say brusquely, not for his benefit but for yours. You needed to believe that he made you do this. That's for losing the Tenth, you baseball nut.
He strains to smile at your words and you know it hurts to lift that cheekbone but you don't stop him. All you do is stare harder back at those dark eyes, as if that would wipe the grin of his stupid face. It's not a prickling feeling but like a surge of warmth enveloping you, familiar and reassuring. You know that gaze better than you know the Tenth. That intense gaze had been watching your back, always fiercely protective.
You wait for his response but all he does is smile blankly at you. You unclench your knuckles to see half moon dents on your palm and you bite your lips harder. He ruffles your hair like he always does and on auto-reflex you try to swat his hand away but he's too quick for you.
"Now we're even," he says and you take it as an insult. Baseball freak.
"Do that again and I'll blow your damn hand off," you grumble as you run a hand through your hair, all the while glaring. He laughs at your fangless threat and as if nothing happened, slings a hand over your shoulder but you don't fight him.
"It'll be alright," he says and you're not sure why you want to believe but his silent understanding makes the guilt on your knuckle fade.
"We'll find Tsuna together," he says but you find release instead, not that you would admit it.
If it's him, it's possible, you decide, not before shoving him off your back. He makes a face at you and you curse aloud.
Fucking jocks. Now where the hell is the Tenth?