Disclaimer: I don't own KHR.

Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoy it. I kind of felt like the ending was rushed, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

He's in a suit. (It could be the first time, and it could be the last.)

Gokudera glances him over. He looks nice, but it's no time for sentiments, and they both know it; there's been enough of that lately, with Yamamoto's father and the Tenth and all the other people they've lost. This dinner is their last chance to redeem the Vongola name; to save themselves.

It's what the Tenth would have wanted.

Fumbling with the cuffs of his shirt, Yamamoto smiles tightly – frighteningly without feeling, those amber eyes half-lidded and shadowed, that thin form too skinny, because he hasn't been sleeping much and he hasn't ate for a few days. His health was always the most important thing, but now, from how that tailor-made black, silken suit hung off him, that obviously wasn't the case.

Neither of them know what to prioritise. It's just them, the Vongola and this last chance.

It's just them, now.

Gokudera nods at him, assuring him he looks fine. Assuring them both it will be fine. Then he says, "Come on. We can't be late."

The Giglio-Nero family couldn't wait forever, after all.

X

They had back-up. Thank God, they had back-up.

There's a sense of chaos in the restaurant; bullet-holes in the seats, the tables, the innocent bystanders having to run, and fast, because this nice little place was giving way to a Mafia scuffle, the catalyst of a Mafia war.

Hibari is helping himself to enemy herbivores, like an animal, blood on his clothes, dripping from his tonfa. Ryohei is punching and kicking and knowing that it's not all a game, and training is over and he had to grow up sometime and 'this is for my sister, this is for my boss.'

Chrome came along, with Chikusa and Ken, thankfully. They aren't allies, really, but they are on the same side.

Lambo and I-Pin too, which is a burden, really, because nobody wants the kids to get hurt; nobody wants to watch the people they saw grow up fall, as Reborn did. None of them would be able to handle it all over again.

Dino, his men, Shamal and Bianchi; they're in this too. They're probably in the back, swiftly killing with more practise and expertise than the likes of the other, younger guardians. But still outnumbered, and there's no escaping that.

Yamamoto can spot Byakuran. All in white, smeared with crimson; smeared with more of his men's – his friends – blood. And he thinks about his father, and he raises his katana and thinks, Shigure Souen Style-

-that's all he gets too, before Gokudera puts a firm hand on his shoulder and tells him to run.

X

The place blew up, minutes after they had all gone. Yamamoto tries not to notice all the missing dynamite in Gokudera's room. He tries not to think about how many people his friend killed, and tries so hard not to feel good about it.

It's the beginning of a war – the Gesso and Giglio-Nero family joining.

Milliefiore Famiglia.

They slaughtered Yamamoto's father. They slaughtered Tsuna and they're targeting the people Yamamoto and the rest of the Guardians love.

Gokudera says he didn't get a scratch but he spends the morning after in the bathroom, suturing the gash on his stomach in privacy and sharply hissing, 'stronzo' when he gets to the other wounds. Then it gets silent. Then Yamamoto's pretty sure Gokudera's just sitting in there with a cigarette, contemplating life and the future and if they'll even have one.

After ten minutes or so, he unlocks the bathroom door, stumbles over and drops on the bed, wincing when his fresh wounds meet the sheets. Yamamoto tries not to notice this either.

X

Gokudera finds Bianchi, and he takes his sister by the hands, looks into her eyes and tells her firmly to be careful. To be watchful, and please, whatever you do, don't provoke them. I know they took Reborn from you, and I get it. But right now, we can't afford to lose people but mostly I can't afford to lose you.

And he says it with a faint stutter, because he is by that adolescent nausea, of course, but not by how much Bianchi resembles his mother.

She looks at him, and she smiles and she squeezes his hand. "Hayato," she says, looking proud, looking close to happy. So grown up, she's thinking, so mature. And then Bianchi starts to cry. She doesn't stop for a while, and Gokudera holds her close, because that's what family does.

"I'm sorry," he says, and not only to her. "I'm sorry," he says again, and starts to feel like he wants to cry too.

X

Ryohei Sasagawa leaves on business. It's not safe, planned out or at all smart to do, or even consider, but he goes anyway, lights on his car fading and dying into the night. Into the darkness.

Octopus-head and the Baseball-nut had no chance of stopping him when they seen that determination in his eyes, and Kyoko would be none the wiser, because she was hidden, and safe. For now, at least.

X

Then Hibari goes. He takes Dino with him, and when Gokudera slams his fist into the wall and shouts and screams at him, then regains breath and asks where he's going, Hibari flashes his box, and his teeth, then he's gone – dragging the Cavallone with him.

"Don't worry," Dino says. He looks old. He looks broken.

Gokudera turns around and walks away, at a loss, at the end, it feels. The family is breaking; if only the Tenth where here.

X

Sex is an outlet. Sex should be this beautiful thing of love and affection, but they're like ghosts, wrapped up in sheets, in the sanctuary of an unlit bedroom, away from it all.

There wasn't even a lead-up, because feeling all the wounds, the cuts and the bullet-grazes under their hands is like feeling the cool, cold marble of a gravestone.

It's all without feeling, here on out; until this one moment between deep breaths and shuddering orgasms and Yamamoto leans his neck down and crushes their lips together, all passion and no care.

Gokudera yanks on his head and pulls him close, and every rock of their hips brings him closer to ecstasy, and closer to the scary world outside their bedroom.

He doesn't want it to end. So he grabs Yamamoto for another kiss.

X

"Don't leave," Yamamoto can hear Gokudera mutter. Those pale fingers and brushing tentatively through his black hair, rings brushing his scalp and the soft feel of a breath on his neck; he should pretend to sleep. He hates seeing Gokudera vulnerable, and Gokudera hates him for seeing it so often.

So he does, for a while – lying there, on his pillow, feigning the rest he so desperately needs, they so desperately need, with Gokudera draped over him, nuzzling into the back of his head. "Don't leave me," Gokudera murmurs, and he could be crying.

Yamamoto can't stop himself from turning around and pulling him close at this point. He doesn't promise he'll stay, because he can't. He's said it before, and when the contract for a team came in, he ran off, like that, as Gokudera's reminded him before over and over.

He just smiles – or tries to – and says 'you should get some sleep, Hayato.'

It would be a long day tomorrow. (But Yamamoto can't bring himself to say this.)

X

"We got a call from Dokuro," Giannini informs them in the morning.

I-pin asks how she is.

The mechanic frowns, and it's answer enough.

X

As a child, Gokudera had watched the doctor fight only ever once.

It took 0.0007 seconds for him to activate the Trident Mosquito then, he'd worked out. Shamal had then told him he was normally quicker, probably trying to seem more endearing to the swooning women he'd saved, but even more likely stating the truth; because he was an assassin, quick and smooth.

So, how the Hell wasn't he fast enough to survive now?

Gokudera looked down at the grave, and hates how depressed he feels. Hates how these stupid bitches surrounding him are all teary and sad when they never even knew the guy. Not really. Bianchi grips his wrist afterwards, and she asks if he wants to come, with her, grab some dinner somewhere and get some rest.

Looking down at the roses, all pink, red, these little mixes in between, he finds himself lost, but manages to shake his head.

He says no. Yamamoto tells her that he'll wait. And Gokudera stands an eternity longer, over a new grave, wondering if he should get used to the situation, or if it's even possible.

He takes Yamamoto by the hand, pulls him near and presses his face into his shoulder. "Don't leave me," he repeats, for the thousandth time. He doesn't care anymore about being weak. Only about the painful memories of loneliness he's sure he can't go through again.

X

"Heard from Ryohei?" Yamamoto asks one morning. The Sun Guardians been gone for a month; he hasn't contacted them in a month.

Sadly, Giannini shakes his head.

We're doomed, Yamamoto thinks to himself, but he nods and smiles anyway, we're doomed.

X

The base is almost empty and Gokudera can't stand it anymore. So he dresses up, formal, in black, then the Rain Guardian appears in the doorway, frowning slightly, arms crossed. And he says to Yamamoto, "I need to see the Tenth."

And Yamamoto says, "I know, I know." Then he tells him to be quick. Gokudera tells him not to worry, but it's a futile request now.

X

There's someone there, in this grave, this sacred place. How disrespectful, Gokudera thinks, and he swears. How dare they. A flower crunches under his feet and he apologizes under his breath. And again.

"Who's there?" he shouts.

A form appears, familiar and chilling. Smaller, but yes, his racing mind assures him. We're saved.

Gokudera drops to his knees and grabs the soil surrounding him, pouring through his fingers.

"Tenth!" he exclaims, and he has to stop himself from crying.

X

Gokudera was gone for to long; two days at a grave. Maybe in a grave. Yamamoto set off, feet on auto-pilot, pulling him somewhere he knew all too well. He had to stop on the way, destroy a Mosca, damn the Milliefiore, damn that fucking Spanner.

And there they were, behind it. Standing in the flesh and staring at him.

"Tsuna," he breathes in disbelief. And he smiles a real smile and walks towards the three figures; his future boss, his future lover and Lal Mirch. (Thank you so much Lal, for keeping them safe here, thank you so much.)

There's a feeling in his heart, almost unfamiliar.

X

Speranza.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading.

Synonym