"Think Back but Move On"

Setting: KHR, adult life
Pairing: Yamamoto x Tsuna x Gokudera
Rating: M
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Point of View: Third-person
Warnings: Homosexual relationships, swearing, insecurity, threesome, and possible OOC. Italics are flashbacks, thoughts, or stressed words.
Further Notes: Experimenting with a different style here. Rather than using names, I'm sticking to the point of view of one character, referred to as "he", but you'll be able to tell who is who pretty easily and each character will be known with one type of alternate name (i.e brunette, boxer, etc.).

He sits up, awakened by the overbearing heat of his two companions. To his right is the black-haired idiot, and to his left is the gentle brunette. He sighs to himself, letting the blanket fall to his waist and the cool winter air hit his skin like a wall. He prefers to sleep on the outside of them, letting the brunette sleep in the middle because the brunette is often freezing, but he somehow ends up in the middle tonight after their session. He likes warmth, he really does, but sleeping between two human heaters (ironic because the brunette always says he's cold; He absently thinks its a lie just so he could sleep in between him and the idiot) makes him sweat too much. He debates getting something to put over his bare body to try and block out some of the body heat he'll inevitably end up sharing once he lays back down or to just wipe away some of the sweat, but he decides against it; he doesn't want to wake them up. Instead, he leans back on one hand, runs fingers through his hair with the other, and thinks.

He first wonders how he ever got into this mess in the first place. He never could really trust anyone. Once he ran away from home, he was done. He is still done with his family now, except for maybe his sister; their relationship has improved little by little. He thinks back to when he was young, learning piano from his mother. He wished he knew she was his mother earlier, then maybe things could have been different. He doesn't know how, but he wishes it was every now and again. Having no family left him hopping from famiglia to famiglia, being kicked out one after another until he lost all trust he had in humanity.

Once he came to Japan to kill the not-yet-at-the-time Vongola Decimo, he realizes his life probably changed from there. He met the brunette first, who saved his life from his own stupidity. He remembers following the currently sleeping brunette around like a puppy, and he nearly smiles at the memory. He recalls the fact that he hated the idiot on the other side of him in this bed, because he wanted the only person to accept him to himself. He soon comes to the thought that he is possessive. This he smiles at, knowing its true. The idiot beside him never relented in becoming his friend, and he he gave in sooner or later. He trusted the idiot, despite his stupidity.

He comes back to his original thought: how he got to be in this mess in the first place. He thinks it started sometime during college, when hormones were still shoving them all out of whack. He believes the relationship started with the brunette, and then somehow, someway, the idiot got involved and then he got pulled in too.

"Easy, I've got you steady," the idiot whispers, and He loses coherent thought for a second as the brunette kisses him fiercely. Eventually, he wants control, and takes it, flipping positions with the brunette and using his tongue to easily dominate the other's mouth. He hears the idiot groan and he takes to flipping the brunette so he faces the idiot. He remembers back to when he realizes he is gay, and all the things he's learned within a moment, before removing the brunette's pants, boxers and all. The brunette in the meantime releases the idiot's pulsing member and licks the tip. The idiot moans as the brunette swallows him whole and bucks his hips slightly. The brunette sets a rhythm and He moistens two fingers before pushing them into the brunette's entrance, who groans and tenses. He scissors the hot inside, feeling warmth in his stomach. Once he feels its okay, he adds a third and does the process over again. Eventually, he lubricates his cock and sets it at the brunette's entrance. With a quick push, he is halfway in and the brunette rolls his hips in response. He meets the idiot's gaze and suddenly, the idiot descends his lips onto his, and the two are quickly using their tongues against one another. He sees the idiot wrapping long fingers around the brunette's member and begins to stroke it base to tip over and over again in a quick rhythm in the corner of his eye. He thrusts against the brunette harder, and quicker. The process for the three gains pace as they go, until the brunette spills first, followed by the idiot and then him.

He snorts at the memory, holding back any chance of an erection. That day was the beginning of their relationship. He thinks about how much shit they put him through, especially during the inheritance ceremony. When dealing with an oblivious idiot and an insecure brunette (bless his heart, the brunette was on edge so much that entire month), plus the entirety of the insanity of the other guardians, he wanted to pull his hair out. Once the brunette officially became boss, things sort of settled down. He became the one in charge of reviewing missions and passing out work for the day. He would then discuss the missions with the brunette to decide who would be sent. It was a fine routine. Until the Milliefore came into play.

"He's gone...he's gone...Dad is gone..." The idiot sobs within his private quarters, and He is in there with him, standing there as the idiot clutches His shirt and buries his face in it. He merely places hands around the other, not saying a word. He is no good at the comforting thing after all.

He sighs. Just that first death was a sign of many to come. After that, the Arcobaleno began to fall one by one. He glances at the brunette, thinking how devastated the other was when the world's greatest hitman finally fell. He himself stayed strong, until...the brunette was killed.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," He repeats to himself over and over. He puts pressure over the bullet wound to the chest on the brunette, shaking as the skin of his lover grows paler with each passing moment. The brunette smiles sadly in the forest ground; it is as far as they got away from the damned marshmallow's place. The boxer idiot is on his way, but He doesn't think help will show up in time. He inhales shakily, pressing his stained jacket on the wound firmly. He murmurs to himself on how the brunette cannot die. He has to stay awake, He tells the brunette, who only smiles still and apologizes softly. When the brunette's eyes close, he feels the reality sink in and he feels like he's drowning.

He wipes at his eyes. There is no need for tears now; the brunette is sleeping soundly next to him. He frowns to himself in thought.

Truth be told, he regrets having someone with him sometimes. Sometimes he still wishes to be alone, away from the two in the large bed, because then no one would be able to hurt him. If he isn't in this life, maybe he would be somewhere else. He laughs bitterly at himself in his thoughts. Without the brunette, he would probably be dead.

Still, he hates the emotions he is put through.

He is confused to lovestruck to happy to depressed and to utter despair when with the two. He can't figure out how to deal with so many emotions when he is used to not dealing with any at all. It was, occasionally still is, attack first and think later.

He blinks. Attack first and think later. Is this how he got into such a relationship? He attacked, in a sense, the two lovers before, and is thinking about the whole relationship now...albeit a few years later. He leans his head back, staring at the ceiling as if to question it. The ceiling has no answers to give, and closes his eyes. If he has to pick a way to describe the relationship he is in with the idiot and brunette, then it would have to be: hell. Being pulled every which way and being forced into every emotion in existence is not his favorite way to live. He likes routine, a simple way of life, and maybe one with some fighting in it. These two throw him out of whack, dissolve any routine he sets up for himself, and makes it anything but simple. The only thing left is the fighting. Whether its a spar, actual battle, or just a playful (okay, maybe not playful on his account) argument with the idiot, there is some semblance of fighting in his lifestyle. He uses his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He is in a relationship with these two for fighting? That doesn't sound right.

When he is with them, he feels those myriad of emotions, but what about without them around? His sister says he looks happier these days. Even the stupid cow and the boxer say things like that every now and again. No one knows about the relationship, so what do they notice? He asked his sister once on what she meant, and she simply replied that he seemed brighter. How can he be brighter when he's pulled through so many emotions? Yet, without them around...he feels a little off. His chest aches every now and again when he spares a thought for them during work. He feels his heart flutter when he sees the idiot again after a long mission, and he nearly wants to cry when the idiot is injured somehow. He never cries. But he cries for them. He searches his vocabulary for the word he is looking for.

Love.

He loves them, right? Love is defined as a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection towards someone. Or in this case, two someones. A personal attachment to both of them...would have to be sex? Or is that too technical? Regular kisses or hugs are rare, unless by the idiot, who likes to sneak up from behind and nearly give him a heart attack. The brunette gives soft smiles that make his mood lift and a kiss from him is once in a blue moon; the brunette is still as shy and insecure as ever behind closed doors.

So what makes him love them? He doesn't get it, but he wants to know. He thinks about the perverted doctor and all of his 'sisters' (and he grimaces, because it took longer than he is proud of to realize they were not sisters at all), but disregards that as even close to love. He isn't sure the perverted doctor knows what love is, but then again, neither does he. Love is called an enigma because its hard to describe. 'You'll just know its love,' people tend to say. He thinks that's wrong. There has to be some scientific reasoning to love or it would not make sense. He is a man of logic; he yearns to solve what is unknown- UMAs for example.

Can love even be solved? He wonders this question. Thinking that maybe a different perspective is useful, he comes up with the question: is love unconditional? Unconditional means to be not limited by conditions, or a particular mode of being or existing state. He places a single hand on his forehead in these thoughts, absently aware it is three-thirty two in the morning and he needs some semblance of sleep for the next morning; but that'll come later. Once in his thoughts, its hard to stop. If love is unconditional then there are no limitations to it. A lover is willing to go as far as possible for love and the person loved. He knows this can't be reality. There are conditions and limitations to love, aren't there? If something was circumstantial, as if two people are forced into marriage, isn't that love conditional? Or is that not love?

He wants to groan; he's always hated thinking about feelings. Especially considering they involve the two in the bed. He even hates talking about himself in general, so he can't figure out for the life of him how the idiot and the brunette love him. He's not a fantastic person, or even a good-natured one. He has a terrible temper (though not as terrible as when he was younger), chain smokes (despite the idiot's protests for him to stop before he kills himself- he has cut down to a pack a week if it counts for anything), and unlike the innocent-faced brunette, he has killed. More than once. Mostly when he was younger, and he had to jump from around to fit in somewhere. He was told lies on how to become part of the family; it usually involved torturing a person or himself, and a few times it was killing an enemy. It's not like he is proud of killing either, and he thinks the brunette (and even the idiot, he silently admits to only himself) doesn't deserve to be with someone with blood-stained hands.

He breathes a heavy sigh, looking at his one free hand. It is devoid of any blood, it is clean, except for the small scars and burns he has suffered as a result of battle. He only wants to get up, and scrub at his hands until they are raw. He wants to leave the bed and never return to the two, believing they would have a better life without him. If he is not in their lives, perhaps it would have been better. Perhaps if he died in the brunette's place that fateful day when that awful plan to stop the Milliefore began, things would be different. If he had just died back when he was young...if he never met the brunette...maybe things would be better. Maybe things would be better now without him. Maybe-

"Nng..." The idiot softly whimpers, eyebrows furrowed as the idiot throws an arm over His waist. He looks down at the sleeping face, and lays back onto the bed slowly. He rubs a thumb on the creases of the idiot's forehead, releasing a small breath when the creases disappear. The idiot's face relaxes, and almost instantly, the brunette snuggles up close to Him, the brunette's head tucks itself into the crook of His neck. He uses one arm to wrap itself around the curled up brunette and subconsciously tilts his head towards the idiot, absently noting the way the idiot cuddles up close to him as he sleeps. He wills himself to relax, pulling up the blanket to his chest, and thinks that, at that moment, any thoughts about the topic could be thought about later if need be. For now, he could move on. His breathing slows and he quietly falls asleep to the sounds of two heartbeats.

Unbeknownst to him, the idiot and brunette crack open an eye to smile at each other, before falling back into blissful sleep.

Fin.

Well that's that.

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