Summary: Sometimes, love hurts. One-sided love aches. Breaking up is pain. When two people fall completely for the same irreplaceable person, who will be the one to suffer? AU-Highschool. 8059, 8018. AKA: YamaGoku, YamaHiba. Also includes Varia, Kokuyo, Millefiore.

Warnings: well, yeah there will be smut. Guyxguy. As in, yaoi buttsex. Also, violence. Rape. Hot make out sessions. Might be slight, SLIGHT, OCC-ness since it's AU. So, you've been warned.

A/N: So… this is a complete flip from 'His Royal Highness Owns a Frog' in many ways. First, it's an AU. Second, it's all about high school life, not assassins even though there is gang warfare. Third, there's a slow development between the characters, whereas my last fic raced through relationship stages. But I do hope you enjoy this fic all the same :)

OH, and a piece of info here. A 'color gang' is a rebellious teenage gang which commits little petty crimes and causes fights against other color gangs. They're called color gangs because different groups are told apart by the color they wear. The fights are pretty serious and sometimes people may even die. For those of you who watch/read Durarara! you will already understand what I'm talking about.

"Shit… fucking hurts…"

"Nearly done…"

"Ow- fuck! Spanner!"

"Done," Spanner stated calmly, popping a lollipop into his mouth, "Really, engines are much better. They don't complain when I fix them up."

"Well sorry for not being a bloody motorcycle," Gokudera spat at his friend sarcastically, one hand rubbing at the freshly treated wounds on his body, flinching slightly when his fingers ran over a dark violet bruise.

"You could at least complain less – it's not my fault you lost so badly," Spanner said, spinning the lollipop in his mouth.

"Tch. It's not my fault that the freak Bel used fucking knives," Gokudera muttered, observing all the bruises and long cuts on his torso. The wounds weren't deep enough to cause any serious damage, but they hurt nonetheless.

"Che, don't be such a wimp with just a few slashes," M.M., who had been sitting in the corner of the room, joined in the conversation, "If they bite us, we bite back. Varia is using more dangerous weapons. We have to make new plans or Dynamite is going to lose again – just look at us." The red haired girl motioned for the Gokudera and Spanner to look around the room.

All around, there were guys and a few girls of their age either sitting or lying down, each with a few bruises or cuts that they helped each other fix up. It had been a long time since the group had been in this state of loss – and they hated it. Every member hated losing.

Dynamite was a color gang formed by Lancia, their present leader, in Namimori. They were one of the strongest gangs in town, their name well-known in the young underground world. Infamous for their violence and skills in fighting, they were recognized by their red scarves every time they walked the streets of Namimori.

But just like mafia families in the real underground world, in color gang warfare, every group had a rival – the stronger the group, the stronger the rival to oppose one another. Dynamite's rival was Varia – another incredibly violent color gang in Namimori, recognized by all-black leather jackets. The two gangs had always fought to be the strongest, but never had one completely beaten the other, and no clear results were ever seen. So the two gangs kept on fighting continuously, so much that it became some sort of routine – the picture of two groups of teenagers ruthlessly fighting, one in black leather and the other wearing red scarves, becoming a common sight in the night streets of Namimori.

"I could make more of these if you want," Spanner suggested, picking up a metal baseball bat with iron nails sticking out from all around.

M.M. nodded, "Yeah, those would be helpful… and that asshole Squalo hit me with this metal bar thing. Hurts like fucking hell. We could get some of those."

"Just leave it to me," Spanner said, writing down the information on his hand.

"As if that would be enough. They had knives," Gokudera mumbled.

"Simple. We could get some knives as well," M.M. spoke simply, brushing the bob of red hair on her head backwards. "We already use cutters anyways."

"True," Gokudera nodded, lifting up his wrist to check out the time on his watch before his emerald green eyes widened. "Fuck!"

"What?" Spanner looked up from the doodle of a robot he drew on his hand.

"It's nearly 5 am. Shit! I have to go. See you guys tomorrow," Gokudera abruptly stood up before he quickly pulled on his jacket and ran out of Lancia's house.

"Dad's gonna rip my head off," the silvernette muttered as he ran.

"Fuck…" Gokudera cursed as he tried to keep on walking, but it seemed as though his body was unwilling to go any further.

Just as he was making his way home, all of a sudden dizziness took over him and darkened his vision. His head felt heavy, throbbing in pain along with his entire body. Gokudera had thought that not having any sleep for the past night and losing quite an amount of blood would have some effect on him in one way or another… but why now? Just when he was all alone, past 5 am in the morning not knowing where the fuck he was in Namimori anymore.

"Ugh-" he moaned as another headache hit him and he had to lean against the wall to keep his body upright. Breathing faintly, he closed his eyes willing the pain to go away. But as soon as his eyes reopened, his vision was completely taken over by dark and green spots, the world spinning around him, causing him to flop helplessly to the ground. "Hell…" he breathed, feeling the concrete on his face before he gave in and lost consciousness altogether.

Cold.

"Nnh-" Gokudera woke up to the feeling of a damp towel on his face. He tried to reach out to person who was wiping his cheeks and neck. "Dad…?"

Warm.

"Ah, you're awake," the voice murmured, and Gokudera knew right away it wasn't his father. His dad would never have used such a gentle tone – not with him.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and what he saw before him was a guy, around his age, with slightly tanned skin and short black hair. Those dark brown eyes looked down at him, at his emerald eyes, before the guy smiled calmly.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" the guy spoke to him with that gentle voice once again, turning to squeeze the water out of the towel and into a bucket beside the bed Gokudera was lying on.

"Where-?" Gokudera managed to say.

"You're at my house. I found you lying unconscious across the street so I figured you need help," the guy replied, the smile still on his face, "Do you want to sit up?"

Gokudera, still confused as he tried to take everything in, nodded slowly, rather dazed by what was going on. The guy got up closer to him before he helped him sit up on the bed, supported by soft pillows. "I'm Yamamoto Takeshi, by the way."

Yamamoto Takeshi.

Gokudera just stared at him, stared at that innocent, care-free smile, and the way those dark brown eyes seemed to have a light in them that was brighter than anything Gokudera had ever seen. It had been a long time since Gokudera had last saw someone who looked so optimistic, and it had been forever since someone treated him in such a gentle and simply 'nice' way.

"Haha, don't look at me like that. Sorry, I just never saw anyone with green eyes and silver hair like you before," Yamamoto was laughing. Gokudera didn't even realize that he was also observed during the time that he took in this person.

"Here, have some water," Yamamoto handed him a glass of water, and Gokudera obediently drank it before he neatly set the glass down on the closest table. For some reason, around Yamamoto, Gokudera felt like he was compelled to act more proper – maybe it was his good nature or his smile, but instead being all gangly and swearing like he usually was, Gokudera was for once, on good behavior.

"Feeling better?" Yamamoto asked him, observing his face.

Gokudera felt slightly intimidated by how those warm eyes were looking at him, and he diverted his pupils to the side as he mumbled, "Yeah."

"Cool," Yamamoto smiled brightly at him before he stood up to put the bucket of water and towel away in the bathroom.

Gokudera just kept silent, still rather amazed by how 'nice' this guy simply was. Living three years in the young underground world of color gang warfare, expelled time and time again, Gokudera almost forgot what it felt like to receive a friendly smile and warmth from another.

As Yamamoto walked back into the room, he asked, "What's your name?"

Gokudera stared at him.

Yamamoto smiled calmly, "Hey, don't look so afraid, I'm not going to bite you or anything."

Gokudera looked down to the floor, unable to look straight at those dark chocolate eyes any longer, "Gokudera."

"Hm?" Yamamoto sat himself in front of him.

"Gokudera Hayato," the silvernette barely whispered, but Yamamoto heard him nonetheless.

"Ah, okay then, I'll call you Gokudera, ne?"

Gokudera nodded slightly, still unsure of what to do. He had become so accustomed to violence, threat and pain that for once, when he was approached with softness and friendliness, he had no idea how to react. Hell, he couldn't even understand why someone would help a complete stranger who fainted in front of their house in the first place. So instead, he settled on focusing his attention on the room he figured probably belonged to Yamamoto.

The room was simple with all the usual objects that belonged in a teenage guy's bedroom, but what Gokudera noticed was that there were many baseball related objects in the room, from baseball bats to school baseball team photos – all of which, Gokudera noticed, had Yamamoto smiling brightly in every single photo.

"Heh, I really love baseball," Yamamoto stated with a smile, seeing Gokudera looking at the most recent baseball team photo.

No shit. Gokudera thought as he looked at all the posters of famous baseball players on the wall. This guy is a complete baseball idiot.

"You ever played baseball, Gokudera?" Yamamoto wanted to know.

Gokudera shook his head before he chuckled humorlessly, "The only time I ever held a baseball bat was probably to smash some retard in the head – or stick it up his ass."

The words spilled out from his lips before he even thought about it, and before he knew it, Gokudera was already regretting saying those things. Sure, he was uncomfortable with all this 'nice-ness' being handed to him, but all of a sudden he felt like he didn't want it to disappear. But now that he said it… well, who would want to be involved with someone who bashed people in the head with a baseball bat?

But much to Gokudera's surprise, Yamamoto just simply said, "Ah, so you are in one of those color gangs after all."

Gokudera raised his eyebrows, "…you knew?"

Yamamoto smiled, "Well," he reached out to tug at the red scarf around Gokudera's forearm, "…that was a big giveaway – and you have a lot of injuries. Not many people have large bruises and cuts like that, you know."

Gokudera frowned. Then why would you help me?

"So you're in Dynamite, right?" Yamamoto asked.

"…yeah," Gokudera replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Ah, figured. I don't know a lot about this color gang business, but you guys are pretty famous," Yamamoto smiled lightly at him.

Gokudera didn't know how to respond to that so he just kept quiet, toying with the metal rings on his hand, noticing a dry blood stain where he punched a Varia and quickly scrubbing it off – not sure whether because he disliked the fact that it was dirty, or the fact that Yamamoto could see it and know how low gang warfare can go. But that was ridiculous. Why should he care what this complete stranger thought about him?

He should leave. That was the right thing to do. He had already stayed here way too long.

And with that thought, Gokudera abruptly stood up and started making his way out of the door. Yamamoto surprised stood up and followed him.

"Ah, where are you going?" He wanted to know.

"Leaving." Gokudera simply replied in a mutter.

"Already? But are you feeling okay?" Yamamoto's face was one of concern. Gokudera didn't get it. Why would this guy – this stranger – care about him? Nobody did. Not even Gokudera himself.

So Gokudera did not reply and just kept on walking, using his instincts to guide his way down the stairs and to the front of the house which he now realized was a sushi store.

Yamamoto followed shortly behind him, and just before he walked out of the door, the baseball player reached out and grabbed his arm, "Wait, Gokudera."

Out of instinct, Gokudera instantly jerked his arm away before feeling, for some reason, slightly guilty when he saw the look on Yamamoto's face. Trying to cover up and make up for that guilt, he mumbled, "…what?"

"Will I ever see you again?" Yamamoto asked, his chocolate brown eyes hopeful.

Gokudera stared at that expression that reminded him of a puppy dog before he diverted his gaze. This guy – Yamamoto Takeshi – was hard to understand.

"…Namimori's a small town," Gokudera shrugged, and with that, he quickly turned and walked away, not even looking back at Yamamoto's face.

It wasn't until Gokudera stood in front of his house – the home he labeled as hell – when he realized he had yet to thank Yamamoto for helping him.

Oh, well… fuck it. It wasn't like I asked him to help me. The guy wanted to – all by himself.

But even as he thought so, Gokudera felt unsatisfied.

Only yesterday, Yamamoto had met an angel – an angel with deep green emerald eyes and beautiful silver hair. The angel had fallen in front of Yamamoto's house, and after he took one glance at that face, Yamamoto just had to help him no matter what – that angel, Gokudera Hayato.

From the way he was dressed, Yamamoto could tell from since the first glance that Gokudera was a rebel, with his metal skull rings and red scarf. So it didn't come as a surprise to him when he found out Gokudera belonged to the color gang Dynamite. After all, many members of Varia were studying in his school Namimori High School, so Yamamoto was rather used to meeting people who were involved in color gang warfare.

But unlike some gang members Yamamoto knew, Gokudera was different. He had that broken look about him that made him appear both vulnerable and yet insanely strong, though he held himself rather like a stray cat – unsure whether anyone was going to attack him. The way those eyes observed everything calculatingly and the way his body was well aware of everything around him – cautious of everything whilst at the same time, afraid of what can happen to him.

It was that sort of 'stray cat' vibe that made Yamamoto want to get to know Gokudera. Because apart from the fact that he was striking with his petite body, pale skin, silver hair and green eyes – the way he responded and reacted to things were just incredibly interesting. Yamamoto had never met anyone quite like the guy before, and he felt disappointed that he couldn't have talked to Gokudera for a little while longer.

But that was alright, because right now, Yamamoto was heading towards someone particularly special to him. Someone who, from since the first day they met, had captured Yamamoto completely, even if the person did not realize it.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Hibari," Yamamoto called into the prefect's council room, "Can I come in?"

"…hn," came the simple reply, and Yamamoto pushed open the door before quietly entering the room.

Yamamoto's heart skipped a beat when he saw the person he wanted to see sitting at the head prefect's table. Hibari Kyouya was just as flawless as always, dressed smartly in his school uniform with the prefect tag hung loosely around his slim arm, his blazer resting on the top of his chair. That pale skin was glowing healthily in the sunlight, those cheeks looking softer than ever. Those very slightly pink-tinted lips were sealed close as those dark, pitch black eyes scanned through the sheets of paper before him. The long slim fingers that flicked through papers looked delicate and neat, every action precise and correct in that perfect way that was him.

"Hey, Hibari," Yamamoto breathed, smiling lightly.

Hibari didn't even look up from his work, "Yamamoto Takeshi. You're here for the Saturday detention – three times this term now."

"Hehe, sorry for taking your time," Yamamoto smiled, lifting one hand to ruffle the back of his own hair. He couldn't admit to Hibari that he intentionally got into small troubles that were large enough for him to end up in Saturday detention because he wanted to spend time with the head prefect – if Hibari knew he would be beaten up pretty badly.

"Sit down, I'll give you some work to do," Hibari said, still working through his papers.

Yamamoto did as he was told, seating himself comfortably on one of the sofas in the position that was closest to Hibari whilst also giving him the best view of the prefect. Yamamoto looked at Hibari work through three more pieces of paper before the prefect stood up and walked towards him, handing him a booklet of revision. Yamamoto took the booklet from Hibari's hand, their fingers brushing only slightly as the baseball player murmured a 'thank you' before Hibari went back to his table.

It was silent after that – but a peaceful silence. The sounds of pencil on paper and pages being turned creating a calm atmosphere that both Yamamoto and Hibari relaxed in. From time to time, Yamamoto would look up from his work and observe Hibari, looking at how that expression changed – from a tiny frown to a tiny nod of satisfaction. The slight changes were so adorable in Yamamoto's eyes and he couldn't help but feel like hugging that petite body close to his own. But Yamamoto couldn't look for too long – every time Hibari looked up to check on him, he would quickly move his focus back to the booklet in front of him, fast enough that the prefect would not even notice.

Yamamoto didn't understand why he felt this way towards Hibari, but from since the moment they met, Yamamoto felt like he wanted to know more about Hibari, get to know his deepest secrets. He wanted the prefect to show him sides that he never showed to anyone – and before he knew it, Yamamoto found that every time Hibari walked past, his heart would jolt; his breathing paused for a moment. The fact that Hibari was a guy just like him never really bothered him at all – it didn't matter as long as he knew how he felt.

A small yellow ball of feathers flew into the room as that familiar high pitched voice chirped, "Hibari~ Hibari~"

The little bird landed itself smoothly on Hibari's table and Hibari gently smoothed its fur with the tip of his fingers giving only just a hint of a smile at his pet before he went back to his work.

That was also another thing that attracted Yamamoto to Hibari. That gentleness that hardly anybody ever witnessed from the Skylark, he had seen it appear whenever Hibari was around Hibird – and he fell for it. Yamamoto just wanted to see more and more of it, he couldn't have enough.

Hibird flew over to Yamamoto before it settled down on his booklet, looking up at him, its head cocking sideways. Yamamoto smiled, "Hi, Hibird." The baseball player petted the little head softly and Hibird chirped happily in response.

Hibari looked up from his papers, "Get back to your revision."

"Haha, okay senpai," Yamamoto smiled, going back to work through his booklet. Hibari looked at Yamamoto for a while more, checking to see if he really was getting on with his work before going back to his own prefect work.

After a while, Yamamoto finished the booklet and when he looked up, he found that Hibari had fallen asleep on the desk, that head resting peacefully on his hands which still held a pencil in one of them. Smiling, Yamamoto quietly stood up and approached Hibari, bending down so that he can see that face clearly.

You shouldn't let your guard down so much, Hibari.

Seeing Hibari's defenseless sleeping face was so tempting that Yamamoto nearly couldn't stop himself from just inching closer and stealing in on those slightly parted lips. But he resisted the temptation, knowing just how sensitive Hibari's senses were. Yamamoto had already gained some sort of peacefulness between him and Hibari – he didn't want to break it. Thus, the baseball player settles for a slight brush of his thumb over Hibari's soft cheeks. Then, he stood up and draped Hibari's blazer over the prefect before leaving the room, smiling happily at the amount of time he was able to spend with him.

As for Hibari, as soon as he heard the click of the door signaling Yamamoto's leave, he opened his eyes and looked up, still feeling the touch of Yamamoto's fingers on his cheek – and surprising himself, Hibari found that he didn't mind it at all – not one little bit.

But that thought threatened him – because he had been hurt by that carelessness before, and he never, ever wanted to be weakened in that way again.

7.13 am, Namimori High School

Early in the morning, just like any typical school day, students gathered together in their classrooms before the school schedule actually started - the girls gossiping in their little groups along the corners of the room whilst the guys hung around in the table area, sitting on the tables in separate groups.

"Haha, maa, Tsuna, don't worry. Reborn-sensei's not going to kill you." Yamamoto comforted his friend, smiling as he patted him on the back.

"No he will! This is the third time I forgot to do his math homework…" Sawada Tsunayoshi panicked, beating himself up over and over for forgetting his notebook at school. It had always been like this for him, that was how he earned the name 'no-good Tsuna' – and from how he's managing, or more accurately, how he was not managing at everything, that nickname wasn't about to disappear anytime soon.

"Ha! You suck!" Joshima Ken stuck his tongue out at the poor boy, laughing loudly as he stuffed himself with potato chips.

"Ken… it's not nice to say that," Kakimoto Chikusa warned his best friend, though his face remained indifferent before he continued speaking in that monotonous voice, "…and you'll choke if you keep on eating like that."

"Shut up, Kakipii!" Ken replied, continuing to stuff himself. Chikusa just looked at him before he looked away and sighed, giving up on trying getting Ken to listen to anything he said.

"Kufufu… oya, Ken. You shouldn't speak so rudely to Chikusa," Rokudo Mukuro spoke, his lips curving in a slight smile as he chuckled slightly at a joke that only he understood. Ken faltered, crossing his arms and glaring at Chikusa as if it was all the megane's fault.

The relationship between the three of them was rather strange, though very close – they all came from the same middle school Kokuyo, and nobody ever understood why both Ken and Chikusa followed Mukuro around and listened to him as if he was some kind of savior to them. It was something that had to do with their past together, but nobody ever dared to work out what it was.

"Haha, Mukuro, that's amazing. You actually stopped Ken from eating," Yamamoto laughed.

"Kufufu… indeed," he replied still chuckling on his own personal joke. The guy was strange like that, with a mysterious background and a mysterious air to him. Nobody knew what his real eye color was either because Mukuro always wore colored contacts that made his eyes mismatched – one red and one blue. "Oh, and Tsunayoshi-kun, I could speak to Reborn-sensei for you if you want to," Mukuro offered.

"Uh… it's okay, Mukuro. Reborn-sensei doesn't like you very much, ne?" Tsuna replied uncertainly.

"Oya, is Tsunayoshi-kun concerned about me? Don't worry, after all, the teachers dislike me for a reason, kufufufu…" Mukuro murmured before he started chuckling darkly again, and Tsuna decided it was better not to question what that 'reason' was, looking at Yamamoto and giving him a weirded out expression. Yamamoto just laughed lightly, reaching out to ruffle the fluffy brownish hair of his friend.

Yamamoto and Tsuna had been friends with the three ex-Kokuyo students for a year now, but they still sometimes didn't really get them. Ken was very animalistic and loud, rather crazy and hyper for most of the time for no particular reason, whilst Chikusa was the opposite, as expressionless and stoic as a wall. Maybe that's why the two were best friends – they cancelled each other out perfectly. And as for Mukuro… the guy was plain weird – with his strange chuckles, his deliberately mismatched eyes, his smile that allowed nobody to figure what he's thinking, and the dark aura that oozed from him like someone who had been through almost every pain in life.

"Eh? Kakipii~ who's that guy? I've never seen him before," Ken nudged Chikusa, motioning the megane to look at someone who just walked past the outside of their classroom.

Yamamoto followed where Ken was looking at, before his eyes widened. The student he saw had pale skin with emerald green eyes and unmistakable silver hair.

…Gokudera Hayato?

He's in… my school?

"That's… Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna was also staring wide eyed at the silvernette.

"Eh? Tsuna, you know him?" Yamamoto asked his friend, surprised at Tsuna's recognition.

"Ah, yes. He used to live right next to me, we were good childhood friends until he moved elsewhere," Tsuna explained before he stood up, "I'm going to go talk to him." And before Yamamoto could even ask to go with him, Tsuna was off, jogging through the door, tripping slightly, but eventually making it to Gokudera.

Yamamoto watched as Tsuna approached the silvernette before he saw the flash of happiness in Gokudera's eyes as they recognized the brown haired boy. The baseball player was then completely dumbstruck when he saw what happened next. Gokudera smiled – and it wasn't a smirk either. It was a completely innocent, genuinely happy smile that made those emerald eyes sparkle as he talked to Tsuna. Yamamoto couldn't get over it. The guy who he thought was like a cautious stray cat was now smiling…

"Oya, oya… isn't that Gokudera Hayato from the infamous Dynamite?" Mukuro murmured.

"-wha… you know him too?" Yamamoto immediately turned towards Mukuro.

"Not on a personal level, but I do know quite a lot about him. I'm really interested in color gang warfare, you see, so of course I know about one of the strongest members in one of the most famous gangs," Mukuro replied.

Yamamoto was yet again surprised. He knew Gokudera belonged to Dynamite, but the fact that he's one of the strongest members? He looked far too delicate for that.

Mukuro continued, "…but really, I never thought someone who's known as the 'Smoking Bomb' would smile so innocently like that. It's not a smile like one of Prince the Ripper's from Varia either. Kufufu, interesting…"

"You mean, Bel?" Yamamoto thought of the self renowned 'prince' in his year group. The blonde guy was well known for his insane actions and his strong position in the Varia gang – and he did smile a lot; he snickered too. But his wide, bright Cheshire cat smile was completely different from Gokudera's smile right now. Gokudera had on a smile that looked like he had just seen the sky for the first time… and it was absolutely beautiful – he was right to have thought of Gokudera as an angel at first glance.

"Yeah… it's nothing like Bel's."

A/N: First chapter! Hope you guys liked it! Please review :D –cuddles readers-