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It was the same routine everytime Gokudera went home.
He'll take off his shoes, proceed to hang his coat and suitcase, and then he'll shuffle to the living room, to which he expects, he'll be welcomed with an embrace and a gentle, loving voice saying, "Welcome home, Hayato," from his baseball freak. It's been like this for years now, ever since they entered this world, and to him, this house, and the one he lived with it, was the escape from the horrors of his job.
Except, it was also a reminder of his guilt.
And today, when Gokudera entered the living room, he wasn't greeted by the ever loving Yamamoto, because he was nowhere to be seen there; instead, he found him in their bedroom, staring at the baseball bat that he keeps hidden inside their closet. (Gokudera suggested that they should displace it in their hallway, but Yamamoto declined the offer.)
Right now, looking at this, made Gokudera frozen on the spot, his guilt starting to creep up on him, building up in his chest, making it heavier by the minute as he stared at his lover, whose eyes were unclear and in a haze while he stared intently at the bat between his hands. He wanted to curse himself; he brought this upon Yamamoto - because of him, his husband chose this life, and because of that choice, he may never be truly happy.
Dragging his feet, he walked towards Yamamoto, catching his attention and making him look up; he flashed his signature smile towards Gokudera and said, "Welcome home, Hayato."
Another pang of guilt hit his chest; as much as he wanted to believe his partner's smile, he couldn't - it's been years since they got together, did Yamamoto really think that he could hide from him how pained his smile was? Gokudera could see how he was forcing his lips together to lift them up, the way his eyebrows were furrowed together, and the way he was shaking while he held the bat tightly - something was wrong. In the first place, why did he bring out this bat? There isn't a baseball game that he wanted to watch today, and he only brings out that bat whenever there's a game he was anticipating to watch.
"Yeah," Gokudera nodded as he headed to the bed and sat down, keeping his eyes on Yamamoto while he unbuttoned his shirt. "Why did you bring out your bat? Is there a game today? Or...did you finally decide to hang it on our hallway?" Please tell me these are the reasons why. But then who am I fooling? Something is wrong.
Yamamoto chuckled (forced out a chuckle), before he pursed his lips and returned the bat inside their cabinet. "No...I..." he trailed off as he sat beside Gokudera. "I just remembered something."
"Remembered what?"
"Well...our days, when we were young. Remember? When we all played mafia..."
Another pang of guilt. Gokudera resisted the urge to wince at what Yamamoto said - playing mafia. The memory of Yamamoto finally realizing and understanding that it wasn't a game anymore still haunted him; how can he forget when he was the one who had to break it down to him?
"And now...Hayato...I..." his voice cracked. "Have you heard? Did you know?"
"About?"
Yamamoto let out an exhale. "My dad. He-he's...he's missing...they..." Gokudera's eyes widened; fury and dread beginning to rush to his senses. What? Tsuyoshi is...missing? How come I didn't hear? Is that why the tenth was awfully quiet today? "They got him, Hayato," no. No way. "They got my old man...I couldn't-I wasn't-I-" and that was it; Yamamoto broke down in tears beside him.
Gently, Gokudera scooted closer and gathered him into his arms, burying Yamamoto's face in his chest as he continued to cry while he stroked his back. He didn't say anything; right now, there wouldn't be enough words to soothe his lover's grief. And so, he let him break down in his arms, closing his eyes while Yamamoto's cries turned into yells, with his whole body trembling from the pain he was bearing; his hands clasping unto Gokudera's shirt harder with every cry he let out.
"Hayato...he's gone...he..." He said in between his cries. "They got him. and I wasn't there! I could've protected him! I could've done something! I should've been there! It-it should've been me!" He yelled. "I...took out the bat because I thought it would calm me down, but all I could see was my dad's smile while he supported me with everything he got - baseball, and even when I joined the Vongola...and it reminded me, Hayato, that I was the cause of all of this! I'm a useless son."
"Takeshi, you're not a useless son," Gokudera said, gently. "You can't blame this on you. It was sudden, and we didn't see it coming at all."
"No, no! I should've known! I should've protected him! I could've done more...I..." Yamamoto gulped. "It shouldn't have been like this! And now, I have no one in my life anymore. I'm alone...how will I bear this...how do I manage..."
Gokudera looked up and swallowed, a tear trailing down his cheek. "Takeshi, you're not alone in this, hmm? You're not..." he trailed off. "You still have me. I'm here, and the tenth is here, too."
Yamamoto's grip tightened again. Gokudera could feel him nod against his chest. "Takeshi, go ahead, hmm? Lay it all out on me, okay? I'm here, you won't ever lose me. So let it all out."
And with that, Yamamoto cried again, his yells echoing through the halls of their bedroom.