He stood there frozen.

He couldn't move let alone think.

He could only stare at the smoking end of the fired gun and the dead man lying in a pool of blood.

He feels himself suffocating on the heavy stench of death that permeated in the atmosphere within the once lush office of the corpse.

And then darkness.

He woke up at the sounds of rough rhythmic tires bumping against the black asphalt road. He found himself sprawled across the backseat of the black BMW they used to escape. He let out a grunt as felt the stiffness in his muscles indicating he has been out for a while.

"You alright?" his silver-haired partner asked, strange enough the voice lacked the usual spirit and sting he was used to.

"What happen?" he groaned when his calloused hand fell upon a swollen bump near the back of his head.

"You fainted." Said the strangely detached voice while the owner of it was busy looking at the road.

When did he learn how to drive? He mentally noted since he never heard the guy getting an exam for it.

"My head hurts." He said rubbing the tender throbbing spot.

"That's because you hit that empty head of yours on the floor." He spat the other, annoyance – much to his relief –present in the tone.

"Gokudera." He said catching the other's attention, the bomber was quiet for some reason. His elegant features were strained and detached at the same time.

"You know I'm beginning to question Reborn-san's comment of you being a natural born killer." He heard the man sigh, almost in disappointment.

Well the kid isn't always right is he. he wanted to say but refrained to do so since he didn't want the driver to lecture him about the vast extent of the child hit man's knowledge.

"Say something, idiot." Snapped Gokudera, starting to regain his usual foul mood towards him.

"What do you want me to say? That is was okay for me to watch you kill the guy." He snapped, his nerves still taunt from the ordeal.

"If you keep this up, you won't last a single day on your own. I had to drag your ass all the way to the getaway car. Do you have any idea how heavy you are? We were lucky no one caught up to us." Scolded the driver who casted him a look of scorn and annoyance.

"Is that why you always choose to be alone in missions?" He concluded as he ignored the look he was long used to.

So that you wouldn't have the problem of watching over someone. He added discretely stealing a glance at the loner awaiting a response.

"Yes." The tone was clipped and cold, indicating him not to delve further into the topic.

"How could you stomach it?" he decided to ask since he preferred to hear the other's voice instead of the awkward silence that seems to fill the air.

"You get used to it." he heard the bomber sigh almost close to a brooding mood, his slender fingers tighten slightly upon the wheel.

"Are you always this cold after missions?" he wanted to ask, since he noticed his friend actually preferred the silence rather than to shower him with usual insults of idiocy and naivety.

Or it because of me being a burden to you. he concluded as he was met with silence, his honey brown eyes darkened at the prospect of being ignored.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Get some sleep Yamamoto." Muttered the silver-headed teen with a tired tone that softened to a mere whisper but was loud enough to be heard within the vehicle.

He didn't expect a reply after the long pause as well as when the teen said his name. Maybe it was the possibility of a slight concussion that caused him to think that Gokudera Hayato actually uttered his name without the trace of insult or anger.

I must be hearing things. He concluded as he pushed away the idea of the bomber saying his name with a tone akin to being gentle while allowing himself to escape into the world of slumber.

An escape he wasn't allowed to take.

His dream filled him with distorted images of fire and disfigured wails of agony.

His stomach churned at the corpses that littered the path, scarred and unrecognizable. He felt his heart beat even faster as he saw the shadows around him grow and envelop him. Suffocating him and as he struggled he could feel the hopelessness cloud him along with his slowly fading strength.

His body, growing cold as the corpses around him, but just as fell into the dark abyss, he was pulled up by strange warmth. The warmth engulfed him, reviving his strength and spirit, giving him the strength to fight.

To survive.

And as he struggled, something captured him, guiding him, luring him…

into the light…

into a dreamless sleep.

His eyes fluttered to the brightness of sunlight. He was in his room in the Vongola Estates, he could feel the fast tempo his heart was bearing had slowed.

The images came after.

Fear spiked his system as he felt his breath go out. His strong hands, fisted over the sheets to stop them from shaking.

He was afraid.

He was afraid of killing.

He was afraid of the inevitable.

"Hey Gokudera-kun, is Yamamoto alright?" his attention was caught by a certain lanky spiky haired teen whose big chocolate eyes looked at him worriedly.

It has been a week since the incident and everybody noticed the change. He no longer laughs or smiles as much. Sometimes one could even catch him wearing an unfamiliar frown on his handsome features. It worried the boss along with many others. Reborn was away for a while so he wasn't there to see the repercussions caused by the mission the baseball lover had partook with the Hurricane Bomb.

"Why'd you ask Tenth?" he asked as he noted the frown that graced the brunette's features.

"Well seems a bit out of it lately. Since the mission..." the hesitation was noticeable.

Over the course of two years since going to the Future, the Ninth has finally declared the boy as the official boss of the Vongola.

Which means, more lessons from a certain hit man while his guardians get oriented with the world they'll be entering. This basically means, missions for the less naive that includes him, the sadist and the illusionist and Italian lessons for the ignorant, namely the Lawn head and baseball freak. The cow was lucky enough to have physical training since he was too young to be placed under dangerous circumstances.

"I'll go talk to him if you want." He offered not wanting the idiot to trouble the Tenth with his coping problems.

"Take it easy on him Gokudera-kun." Said the boss, giving him permission to do so but he must refrain from being too harsh.

Translation. Don't beat him into a bloody pulp. He thought inwardly as he watched the boss receive a call, and judging from the way he paled, the caller was Reborn.

"Of course Tenth." He said as he regained the teen's attention who merely nodded at him in thanks before running off to some place, which he had guessed to be the airport.

I'm guessing he forgot today's the day Reborn-san returns from Greece. He thought as he watched the young Decimo run like the devil was on his heels.

He saw Yamamoto leaning across the balcony, bearing a look unfitting for the warm smiling face. The look was brooding, melancholy hues managed to cast shadows upon the usually bright face.

"Stop moping already." He said, snapping the fool from his musings.

"Gokudera?" uttered the guy who obviously bewildered by his presence.

"I said stop moping. And wipe that sorry look off your face." he almost ordered as he looked at the sullen companion.

And smile already. He inwardly placed.

He may not admit it openly, but the smile always helped not only a majority of the Tenth's Family but him as well in those dark moments.

It was comforting.

It was warm.

It was alive.

It was real.

And right now the said smile has darkened and he didn't like it one bit.

"If you're here to tell me to get over it, just leave me alone." Replied the swordsman as he turned to gaze upon the blooming garden view, assuming the brooding atmosphere around him.

"The Tenth's worried." He said hoping to regain the teen's attention.

Even I'm worried you idiot. Hell, you got everyone in the Family worried. He wanted to shout as he shakes the boy before him when he was met with unwelcomed silence.

"Say it already. Stop keeping it all inside." He snapped obviously annoyed of being dismissed with a cold shoulder.

"Say what? I have nothing to say." He sighed much to the Storm's annoyance as he faced the man with darkened eyes.

Shit! How long hasn't he been sleeping? He swore as he took in the dark bags under the swordsman's eyes.

"You really are an idiot! If you mind killing so much, why did you tell Reborn to give you a mission!" He snapped, worry reaching its peak as it took in the hollow look of the man.

"Because I wanted to know what you, Hibari and Chrome are doing. And besides, I'm going to end up doing it anyway."

"You shouldn't have forced yourself. It's not a game you know." He sighed as he allowed himself to calm down a bit.

"I know. I stopped pretending as if it's something where I can get another chance every time I lose, days ago, 'cause there will be times that once I lose I won't get another chance." Replied the teen who finally understand the weight he has to bear.

He looked to meet those deep stormy green depths. They weren't in their usual chaotic state, they were steady, calm even. The stillness managed to enrapture him, giving him serenity only to falter when he remembered another time when those depths had turned still.

"You didn't hesitate." He said from out of the blue, he watched surprise upturn the cool gaze but only briefly. It was then he noticed that the said guardian was no longer the loudmouth he had known. He was still impatient and hot-tempered but the bomber had learned to adjust and know when to pull the plug on his anger when necessary.

Like when he killed the guy. He observed. He usually expected the boy to give out a triumphant speech before finishing the job, which is a discreet way of buying time to ready himself for the impending dark deed.

"If I did he would have got a chance to call in reinforcements." Reasoned the other, not noticing his brief escape to his thoughts.

"Was it really that necessary?" he foolishly inquired earning him a pissed look from the Storm.

"They were traitors. Of course it was necessary!" the guardian snapped reminding him that the right-hand have very low tolerance for betrayal and stupid questions.

"Does Tsuna know?" another foolish question.

Of course he knows. He's the boss now. He reprimanded himself from the obvious answer.

"To an extent." Came the answer, cool and calm once more.

To an extent? He questioned the meaning behind the words.

"How much?" he probed, his tired eyes narrowed at the prospect of the Decimo being ignorant of the acts his guardians were performing.

"Enough to know that those men won't be bothering the Family or him ever again." replied the silver-headed hit man looking at him observantly.

By that you mean, he knows the cause and effect but not the means used to achieve them. He frowned at the knowledge.

He could still remember they way Gokudera broke the guard's fingers among many others to gain access to the place.

"I always wondered why he was so reluctant to be the boss. I can see why." He mused earning him a softened look of gray green eyes that soon hardened with bitterness.

"The mafia is never a pretty sight." Answered the guy who seems to be growing colder by the minute.

"And yet you seem fine with it." he couldn't help but observe that ever since the proclamation of the Tenth the right-hand grew a bit colder.

Harder. He described, remembering the way the boy used to explode at every insult lashed at Tsuna. Now, the teen seems to know when to allow those things slide, temporarily of course. He once had the chance to join the two in a negotiation and he heard the Boss call their friend unworthy of Vongola and should do back and hide behind his mother's skirt.

He felt himself lose his calm at the words wanting to shout at the man that he has no right to call his friend that.

He expected the man to be engulfed in a cloud of smoke any second only to find the Boss seated rather smugly in his seat. He stole a glance at the two, actually surprised to see such composed faces but when his gaze went lower, he saw a pair of shaking slender hands gripping sticks of dynamite while another pair was gripping his seat like a lifesaver.

Why such restraint? He remembered wondering at the two only to find out that the said boss was holding a group of civilians as hostages in order to get the Vongola's attention.

The Vongola met their demands.

They didn't comply with their end of the deal.

The said boss ended up dead a few days after and he had the chance to see his friend literally blow the guy's brains out with a gun.

"I was born in it. I grew up in it. How could I possibly be disturbed by it?" said the other snapping him out of his recall.

"You know I never thought of you to be this cold-hearted Gokudera." He said expecting a flurry of suppressed anger.

"Unlike you, I never had the pleasure of taking my time with games. I ran away when I was eight, I had no choice but to suck it up and grow up." Said the man, a storm brewing in those two-toned orbs.

"No wonder you're so bitter." He said not bothering to brace himself from the reproach.

"Che –" he heard the familiar expression denoting annoyance.

Why is he so calm today? He wondered since he expected the guy to shout and rant and after letting his anger get the better of him, he'll leave him alone.

"Let's go." He heard the smaller teen sigh while gripping his wrist pulling him to follow him.

"Where?" he asked surprised that Gokudera Hayato was actually being patient with him.

"To your room. There's no way in hell am I going to let you stay in mine." Spat the other not noticing the brief blush that graced those tanned cheeks.

M-My r-room? For w-what? He was shocked as he watched the bomber drag him into the corridors.

"What about Italian lessons?" he said distracting the teen who halted for a few moments and then started tugging him to his quarters once more.

"You'll survive without it." snapped the other who seems to be finally unraveling the nicely composed façade from earlier.

The idiot! Does he know how much time I'm wasting fixing him up? And he doesn't want to talk about it! Wasn't he the one who always says it's good to talk about things? He mentally ranted as he opened the baseball fan's door and pushed the said fan unto the bed while he occupied a nearby beanbag.

"Talk. 'Cause if you're expecting another pep talk session your dead wrong." He glowered as stared at the boy who was assuming a confused look that was vexing him.

"This is pep talk?" said the idiot, the tone carrying a questioning tone instead of a statement.

"So I'm lousy at it." he shrugged as he waited for the fanatic to open up.

"I'm not going to say it again. Talk stupid!" he spat, starting to lose his patience for the fool.

"What do you want me to say?" snapped the other who was already on the verge of letting it all go.

Here it goes. He concluded, while he remained silent as he waited for the explosion that was to happen and it wasn't going to be a light one.

"That I'm scared as hell with what I saw you did?" the honey brown eyes brewed of anger, fear, regret while the silent spectator flinched that emotions.

"That I want all this to stop so we could all go back to the old days where we don't have to do all these!" he saw the eyes on the verge of frustrated tears.

"That I don't want to kill anybody even if Reborn says I'm natural born killer!"

"I'm not! I'm not a killer dammit!" the tears fell while the silver-haired bomber felt a tug at the pained look he was seeing.

"I may know how to use a sword and have good reflexes but that doesn't automatically make me one of you."

"But I already know it's too late to go back, that sooner or later I'm going to be doing what you're doing." The tone lowered, as bitterness and pain gathered within those light brown orbs.

"I may not be killer now but I will be right?" a sad smiled graced his lips as he met the Storm's eyes brewing in empathy.

"Is that what you want me to say?" he asked regaining volume once more as he continued his onslaught.

"Or maybe you prefer me to say that this isn't a game. Newsflash! Why did you think I gave up baseball when we were in the future. I'm not stupid!"

"That's right! I can't even sleep because of the nightmare I'm having! And – " he continued to rant only to be stopped.

"Wait! You're having nightmares?" probed the guardian as he took in once more the dark shadows beneath the taller one's eyes.

He's still having them. He concluded as he once saw the boy writhe as if in a constant struggle when he placed him on his bed.

"Yeah – " the swordsman sighed as he suddenly felt tired after the release while he laid himself on the mattress.

"Tell me about them." His eyes narrowed as he met those brown trouble eyes.

"I don't remember much. You know how dreams are, they get all blurry when you wake up." Sighed the teen that closed his eyes as if ready to sleep.

"What do you remember about them?" he continued to question as a strange desire to comfort the boy permeated within him, which he ignored.

"It was dark. Lots of blood and gore. There were shadows… they were chocking me… it was so cold…" the voice was close to a whisper, his eyes still closed almost afraid to open.

So it's one of those dreams, huh. He thought as he himself was once a receiver of those dreams.

But that was a long time ago. He added darkly as images of blood and the smell of burnt flesh ingrained itself with his memory.

"What else?" he asked as he regained himself from the brief return to memory lane.

"That's all… they were all the same. I always wake up screaming in the end. Except on that night." Said the boy rather despondently as if he never had a good night's sleep since then.

"On what night?" he questioned curious as to how many days was the fool sleep deprived.

"On the first night…" the teen confessed, opening his eyes while he started up at the intricate designs on the ceiling.

"I remember having the dreams but… I remember something kept me from falling, it was warm…" he continued since there was no reply, he shifted himself as he looked to meet the bomber only to find the other stiff with slightly tinted cheeks.

Cute. He couldn't help but think as he saw those rosy tints color those smooth ivory cheeks for some reason.

"P-Please tell me you're not referring to the night where you basically tackled me in your sleep." Uttered the bomber who seemed to staring at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" He was confused, he sat up so that he could get a clear look at his friend.

"Y-You i-idiot!" stuttered the teen as his cheeks grew red at the unknown memory.

"Eh?" he blinked as he took in the sight of the scarlet faced Italian in his room.

What happened that night? He wondered as he tried to recall the events that placed. He remembered feeling so tired but he could recall a blurry flash of silver whenever his felt himself wake a little only to fall asleep once more.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get away because you were basically squeezing me to suffocation?" glared the other, his blush not fading one bit.

"Wait! I hugged you!" He realized when he saw the teen turn into a tomato.

So the warmth was…

"I-Idiot!" he was broken out from the impending conclusion when the red Italian yelled at him and proceeded to leave.

"Wait!" he called out reaching out, clasping on the slender wrist tightly.

"Wha – " he heard the words cut short as a pair of silver green orbs met his.

"Don't go." He said his tone already akin to begging as he felt the familiar fear rise for some reason.

"Please." He held on tighter as he felt hot tears travel down his cheeks.

"Please, I… I don't want to get those dreams again." he begged as realized he was already in the process of reliving the experience.

It always starts out the same.

He feels the chocking fear without warning.

Then he tries to bury it with sleep only to fall deeper into the dark realm of nightly horrors.

He was giving him the look.

A look far more powerful than puppy dog eyes.

A look that could actually touch even the coldest of hit men.

It was a look that denoted fear as well as desperation.

It was look that basically begs for mercy as well as pity.

It was a look seen on those who had experienced the horrors of the mafia for the first time.

"One night. That's all. No more you hear? You just have to deal with on your own next time." He conceded trying not to notice the slight pout his partner was currently sporting as he nodded in agreement.

"Wait here for a sec would you. I'm just going to get something." He said as he tried to detach himself from the hold.

"Don't worry, I'll be back. I promise." He assured the teen and as the grip loosened, he left.

He came back after about ten minutes. He was wearing a tight black undershirt and a pair of red silk pajama bottoms, while he held unto two cups of warm tea. The other boy was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a pair of baggy jogging pants and an old baseball jersey along with a look of relief when he finally entered the threshold.

"Here drink this. It'll calm you down." He offered, assisting the two shaking hands as they took the warm cup while taking his place on the bed.

"What tea is this?" the athlete asked as he took a sip from the dark liquid.

"Jasmine, I think." He answered in tone that told the player that he didn't bother too much on the choice.

"Thanks." He sighed offering a genuine smile for the first time in days.

I miss that smile. He thought as he unconsciously returned the gesture unknowingly surprising the other with the softness set against his usually scowling features.

"Come on, let's get you to bed, baseball freak." He resigned as he allowed the boy to take refuge in his arms.

"Thank you." his eyes were already dropping as sleep took its toll.

"Hayato…" he sighed as he finally got some well-deserved rest while he snuggled deeper into the other male.

D-Did he just call me 'Hayato'? questioned the bomber when he heard the boy give in a wistful sigh signifying he's already asleep.

He sighed.

He never thought to be in this position once more.

Willingly this time.

He recalled the night well.

The idiot was so out of it, he was already dragging his tall frame through the mansion, accompanying each step with a string of curses.

When he finally managed to enter the said room that was on the second floor for crying out loud. He had to trip on the stupid baseball bat. Luckily, the bed was there to catch the fall. He was about to leave the fool alone when he noticed how cold the weather was.

What the hell was I thinking? He cursed as he remembers himself deciding to get something to cover the boy.

He found a discarded dirty blanket on the floor and being the temperamental neat freak he was at times, decided to get a new one.

When he came back, the moron was already in struggling in his sleep, he was stupid enough to lean in to check if he was okay, ending him up being suddenly tackled by a pair strong lean arms. He found himself buried in the chest of a shaking boy who has a heart rate going on God knows how fast.

He was shaking not with cold but of fear.

He never knew what possessed him to wrap his arms around the boy as he hum a lullaby his mother taught him once.

After taking the road to memory lane, he was brought back to the present, all the while remembering when he was in a state similar to this. He wanted something warm to cling to and couldn't help but feel a bit jealous at the teen around him who had him and the Family while he dealt with it alone in some dark dirty alley as his photographic memory replayed the image of the man he had just killed.

Lucky bastard. That was the last thought he had before sleep came to claim him as well.

He stood there frozen.

He couldn't move let alone think.

He could only stare at the smoking end of the fired gun and the dead man lying in a pool of blood.

He feels himself suffocating on the heavy stench of death a permeated in the atmosphere.

Darkness did not claim him.

Not this time.

This one was unplanned.

Turns out some subordinates wanted revenge on the guy who killed their boss namely the Vongola Tenth's right hand man, Gokudera Hayato.

They were just on the right place at the wrong time.

They decided to take a shortcut near a local bar and met up with a gang of angry mobsters who managed to survive the explosion a certain bomb technician had orchestrated.

Since they were drunk, the bomber had no trouble of beating them but one of the less drunk hit men actually had the sense to use his gun. He was just about to shoot the said bomber but the said action was stopped when the he was shot square on the head killing him instantly.

One could easily conclude what would happen if it was not standard precaution for mafia men to wear guns and if Yamamoto Takeshi hesitated for one second.

He was shaking again.

He was staring at a corpse that he killed.

He felt a forceful tug coming from his partner, as he was drag out of the place before they were caught, he couldn't help glance back at the lifeless man swimming in his own blood.

He continued shaking only to be stopped by sharp punch to the face.

"Snap out of it!" yelled out the bomber as he dragged the man to nearby shelter made for hit men on the run from enemies or the authorities.

"I killed him." His voice was hoarse for some reason and he couldn't stop the images running through his mind.

He recalled stepping back as he dodge a blow while his friend finished off the rest of them.

He remembered a flash of movement from his periphery.

He saw the gun.

And the rest happened so fast, the next thing he knew he was holding a smoking gun and the guy was dead.

"I… Oh god…" he continued to stare in horror as the image replayed over and over like a broken record.

He resumed his shaking as shock took over, his ears picked up a sigh and soon he was once more engulf in the familiar scent of gun powder and smoke.

"Let it out." The silver-haired hit man whispered holding him in a familiar warm embrace.

He cried.

He didn't know for how long but as he emerged from his crying jag, he heard a familiar sound calming him, similar to the thing that lured him away from the madness of his dreams. He opened his eyes and found himself sitting in a middle-sized bed in the arms of Gokudera Hayato, who was busy humming him a lullaby to calm him down.

"Gokudera?" he croaked, his throat rough from the ordeal.

"Hm?" Answered the other while continuing to sooth him by rubbing his back in a circular comforting motion.

"I thought no more pep talks." He whispered almost afraid to remind the boy leaving him alone once more.

"Consider this a bonus for saving my ass." He replied gruffly still rubbing his back, to his relief.

"Is it always this hard?" he whispered vulnerably detaching himself with obvious reluctance as he gazed into those knowing eyes.

"Like I said, it gets easier." Replied the bomber meeting his gaze.

"When? When will the pain stop?" he wanted to know. He wanted to know when he'll finally feel the release.

"I don't know." The words came. He didn't quite register them at first but, he could clearly see his shocked appearance reflected in those eyes.

"Wait – you mean." He concluded in realization as he was answered by a grim smile.

"It never stops does it." he said voice the unspoken conclusion between them.

"No." confirmed the bomber not bothering to sugar coated the reality he was to face.

"Then how can you say it gets easier?" he felt his hands grip Gokudera's shirt crumpling them as he shook once more.

"Because over time you learn how to manage the pain better." Supplied the other, taking no action to stop his shaking.

"Is that why you're so distanced after missions." He stated as he tried to calm himself down.

"I numb myself for a certain amount of time." Confessed the other who was still observing his actions.

"Don't you wish for it to stop sometimes?" He asked wondering if the other wishes the same thing as he did at the moment.

"No." the answer came much to his surprise not what he expected.

"Why?" he questioned, clearly confused by the answer, after all who would want to feel this kind guilt and pain that seems to constrict you as you struggle over the hold.

"Because, if I stop feeling the pain that would mean I just lost the last shred of humanity." He answered darkly as a shadow casted itself across those elegant aristocratic features.

"Because the moment you stop feeling is the moment you stop living." He added as he started to understand the meaning of the answer.

"Exactly." He sighed obviously tired as well.

"Will you help me. Deal with the pain?" he asked rather shyly as he placed his head upon the Italian's chest.

"What do you think I'm doing stupid?" replied the Gokudera as he placed his around him once more.

"Thank you, Hayato." He sighed getting sleep once more, but he couldn't help but like the way the boy's name rolled off his tongue.

"Shh… Get some rest Takeshi." Whispered Hayato.

He felt himself drift at the words. He allowed himself feel the warmth that seem to encase him as he heard the other say his name with such gentleness. He couldn't help but feel a smile lace his lips as he felt a gentle pressure land upon his forehead accompanied by the familiar scent smoky cigarettes. So he slept, no longer haunted by nightmares because a sweet humming lullaby and his silver sentinel was there to chase the shadows away.

-END-

A/N: *takes a deep calming breath* I apologize for any OCness. My first shounen-ai fic and my first time to write Yamamoto so I hope he wasn't too OC *forgive the fainting* this is the response for YamamotoTakeshi 2980's request who won on my contest… I hope you like it. The genre is supposed to be family/friendship/slight romance… How did I do? Before you all conclude this is a part of my interrelated fics like Changes and A Choice Made, it isn't… this one is a independent one-shot and no sequel.

P.S. I don't own Reborn… *walks off into the darkness*