A/N: I'm supposed to be unpacking 'cause I got back from Canada today but I decided to post this instead. All the computers were taken so I wrote the whole thing on my iPod... Now I feel like Celty X)
But you don't care about that, do you? Without further ado, your fic:
The guitarist appeared out of nowhere. It was as though someone had plucked him right out of a fairytale and placed him right in the middle of Namimori's busiest street. Not that the guitarist noticed-he just sat there, guitar case sprawled open by his legs, waiting for the next passerby to throw some spare change in, and plucked the strings of his instrument with his long, slender, pale fingers.
Those fingers, Tsuna mused, were always adorned by a series of odd looking metallic rings. On sunny days, the rings would capture stray beams of light and reflect them in every single direction possible, so that when the guitarist played, it looked like his hands were sparkling. It was almost magical.
None of those details went unnoticed by Tsuna, whose eyes were glued to the street artist for five minutes every morning, on his way to work, and five minutes in the evening, on his way home. Five days a week, Tsuna would reach into his pocket and grab whatever change he'd managed to acquire throughout the day. Then, he'd hold his breath, quicken his pace, stare intently at his own shoes and throw the money into the guitar case. Only after turning the corner would Tsuna release his breath in a big "PFWAH!"
It's just a phase, thought Tsuna as his heart pounded wildly. It'll pass. It'll pass.
This continued for a month, when Tsuna decided that ten minutes a day wasn't enough. On weekends, Tsuna would sit at the cafe across the street from where the guitarist played, slowly sip a cup of coffee and watch.
Occasionally, the guitarist would sing. Shaggy silver bangs hanging over his eyes, the guitarist would stare at nothing in particular and produce a sad, low and beautiful melody. Idly, Tsuna wondered what color his eyes were.
Sometimes, he sang in Japanese, sometimes in another language. Maybe English or Italian, thought Tsuna. But no matter what language the words were in, Tsuna could tell that they were always sad. The guitarist's voice always resonated in Tsuna's chest, making his breath catch, momentarily rendering him unable to think, unable to breathe.
"That's Hayato Gokudera," the waitress told him one day. "He was really popular in Italy a few years ago. Everyone thought he was going to make it big, go international."
"W-What happened?" Tsuna asked the waitress-Haru, according to her nametag.
"Mmmm. Well, nobody knows. He just stopped singing one day. Gave all his money to charity, sold his house... The rumors were all over the place, so nobody knew what to believe." Haru sighed dramatically.
That night, when Tsuna got home, he looked Hayato Gokudera up. He didn't learn anything knew-just his birthday and age. Surprisingly, he was the same age as Tsuna.
With all of the luck you've had, why are your songs so sad? Tsuna asked the computer screen.
His computer remained silent. Tsuna glowered at his ceiling. This lack of information just fueled his desire to learn more.
Soon, the amount of money that fell into the guitar case grew. Coins turned into singles, singles turned into fives, fives to tens. On a particularly lonely day, Tsuna even threw in a hundred dollar bill. With his eyes focused on his shoelaces, he didn't see Gokudera raise his eyebrows and watch him until he turned the block.
…
Tsuna wondered how Gokudera's skin remained translucent after months of sitting under the sun. He wondered if he ever got cold. He wondered what he ate. What his favorite food was. What his favorite animal was. His favorite color, the time he went to sleep, the time he woke up. If he picked up the phone on the first ring or let the answering machine get it. What shampoo he used, who his favorite artist was. If he ever looked at the stars at night. If he had someone he loved.
This is insane, Tsuna thought. How could a man he knew nothing about occupy his every thought?
One day, Tsuna found himself walking toward Gokudera.
Oh my God, what am I doing?
"Um," Tsuna said. Um. How wonderful. How eloquent.
Nevertheless, Gokudera stopped playing and raised his head, waiting for the brunette to continue.
Gray, Tsuna thought. No, wait... Silver? Or were they green?
"Your eyes are a nice color," Tsuna blurted out, to his own horror.
Gokudera raised an eyebrow.
Crap, he definitely thinks I'm weird. Or crazy. And at that moment Tsuna was certain he really WAS crazy, striking a conversation with a man he knew absolutely nothing about.
"No. I mean, they are a nice c-color but th-that wasn't what I meant to s-say," crap, he was stuttering now. "That is... I was wondering... Um. Ahaha well I always see you on my way to work and, uh. I really like your songs and um, it'd be -" Tsuna gasped for breath. And choked on absolutely nothing.
"Coffee?" Gokudera offered the hacking brunette. Tsuna had no idea how Gokudera had magically produced a cup of coffee out of thin air or if Gokudera was sick or if there was any danger involved in accepting the coffee but he grabbed the cup and forced the warm brown liquid down his throat. Actually, it tasted pretty good, a hint of mint and cigarettes mingled in with the slightly bitter taste of coffee.
"You okay now?" the owner of the coffee asked, silver-gray-green eyes unreadable. Tsuna nodded a couple of times, turning red.
"Um!" Tsuna said again.
Come on brain, be friends with tongue, Tsuna commanded miserably.
Gokudera stood up, carefully placing his guitar in its case.
Oh no, Tsuna inwardly cringed. It's all over, he's leaving, he hates me now.
"Mind if we go somewhere else? We're attracting quite a crowd." Gokudera scowled.
He was right.
Tsuna nodded ten more times and scampered to his feet.
"Um," he started. "my place is nearby."
Oh. My. God. Did I just invite Gokudera to my house? Tsuna's head was spinning and his heart was hammering so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if bruises formed on his chest tomorrow.
Gokudera raised his eyebrows.
"Lead the way," he smirked.
Tsuna didn't remember what they talked about in the way to his house. His brain was still trying to process everything.
Especially the fact that Gokudera was sitting across the table from him IN HIS LIVING ROOM RIGHT NOW.
"Um."
Again with the ums.
"Would you like something t-to drink? I have t-tea and soda. And water." he added.
"I'm fine. Mind if I smoke?" he asked, not waiting for a reply.
"Be my guest." Tsuna muttered. This wasn't really going like he imagined. Not that he imagined anything. Silently, he counted all his questions.
"So?" asked Gokudera.
"Um?" Tsuna replied intelligibly.
"So, what's the big idea? Staring at me from a cafe, dumping a shitload of cash into my case-not that I mind the money, but what the hell do you want from me?"
"N-No, it's not. I'm not..." Tsuna mumbled, averting his eyes.
"What do you want?" Gokudera persisted, leaning closer across the table. "Are you pitying me? Getting stupid ideas? I'm not a fucking puppy, you know. Or do you want me to write a song for you? Or maybe you want a pretty boyfriend, is that it?"
Gokudera was dangerously close now. Tsuna could smell the coffee on his breath, mixed with the mint gum he was chewing. He could smell Gokudera's cologne as well as the acrid scent of cigarettes that clung to his clothes.
"I don't want your body!" Tsuna blurted out. Liar, he told himself. "U-U-Um," he told Gokudera's shirt. "its just. No, I-I'm not.. You were... And I.. Um. Why are your songs so sad?" he settled.
Gokudera blinked. He slumped back in his seat and let out a hollow laugh.
A couple of minutes passed while the two sat in silence.
"You'll think I'm crazy." Gokudera finally said.
"You probably think I'm crazy already." Tsuna replied nervously.
"Hmph," Gokudera smirked. "fair enough."
And he told Tsuna about a strange dream he had a few years ago. Tsuna listened as Gokudera spoke of the Vongola, of being a right hand man to someone whose face he couldn't even remember. Of how his boss saved him and of how he failed his boss. Of the countless times he tried to commit suicide and the countless times his friends saved him, begging him to live. Of how all of those friends died and how he was unable to save them. Of how it all felt so real that sometimes he forgot who he was. And Tsuna felt goosebumps forming all over his skin because Gokudera's story felt so familiar, as if were Tsuna's story too.
So Tsuna told Gokudera how he thought that his boss wouldn't have wanted him to die, that he probably protected him all those times he tried to kill himself. That nobody blamed Gokudera and that they wanted to him to live too.
They spoke for a long time and eventually fell into a comfortable silence.
"I lied," Tsuna said suddenly, eyes bright, cheeks red.
"HAH?"
"I lied," Tsuna swallowed, "when I said that I didn't want your body."
And with that Gokudera tackled him.
Lips hungrily met lips and somehow they were no longer sitting at the table but tangled together on the floor. Gokudera had Tsuna pinned under him, weight balanced expertly on his elbows. He dragged his tongue along Tsuna's bottom lip and got the reaction he hoped for: Tsuna gasped in pleasure and surprise.
Suddenly, Tsuna tasted cigarettes and mint and felt another tongue in his mouth. He greedily met it with his own and there was a hot frenzied dance for dominance in Tsuna's mouth.
Gokudera won.
Sooner or later, they broke the kiss and Gokudera started tracing lazy kisses along Tsuna's jaw, neck, collarbone. He mumbled things into Tsuna's skin, but Tsuna was too busy trying not to explode to comprehend what Gokudera was saying.
Gokudera kissed his chest, his back, his shoulders and his shoulder blades. He kissed anything he could and Tsuna was sure that everything Gokudera's lips touched was on fire.
Soon, clothes were all over Tsuna's apartment and Tsuna's body was moving in ways he didn't know it could. His toes curled, his back arched and he could have sworn the room was spinning.
His thighs, his heels, his hips. He would never think of them the same way ever again. If he wasn't crazy yet, he definitely would be when Gokudera finished whatever he was doing to him. Not that he minded.
-
Tsuna woke up on the floor, alone and confused. There was a blanket on top of him. The room was dark and the television was on. He saw Gokudera sitting on the couch across the T.V. and sighed in relief.
Gokudera glanced at him and then turned his attention back to whatever was on the Discovery Channel.
Tsuna stood up, grabbing the blanket. He walked over to the couch and plopped down next to Gokdera, covering both of them with the blanket.
He snuggled against Gokudera and drifted back into sleep.
He could have sworn he heard Gokudera humming something.
It sounded happy.
Fin~
Sooo, how was that? Love it? Hate it? Don't care? C'mon, I'm curious :)