Hundreds of years passing takes its toll, and there are little things that are different even with tradition. New technology, new paintings. It's all just meaningless background, however, to tired eyes that rely more on muscle memory than anything else. Soon enough, there's a familiar enough door beneath his fingertips and he's pushing it open.
There's a figure in the bed. It's him. He knows it is. Who else could it be in G's bed?
He's already tired, so the best Tsuna can do is wobble over besides his bed and reach over to take his best friend's hand into his as he slumps down to his knees. There's something off here, something in the shadows that doesn't seem right, but it's not enough to knock his thoughts back into place just yet.
Most cases of having his room entered and being touched while soundly asleep would result in some kind of explosion, but the magnitude and influence of Tsuna's Sky flame is so familiar to Hayato that even subconsciously while sleeping he accepts Tsuna's presence and only just barely stirs when he's touched. His green eyes flutter open in the dark, and he can barely make out Tsuna's expression.
"Boss? Are you alright? Why aren't you in bed?"
Give him another beat or two and he'll panic but for the moment he's filled with sleepy confusion.
"Oh. I'm sorry, G." Resting his head against his arm on the bed, Tsuna gives a sort of faint smile. His gaze isn't quite there. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just couldn't rest, you know how it is."
There's so much wrong with what he's saying, and he doesn't even know it. It's not even just the wrong name. It's even the language on his tongue. Tsuna always speaks in Japanese in private when he's with his friends, keeping some part of home with him. It helps to deal with such displacement. But this is Italian... Old Italian, too, the dialect so different from what Tsuna had been taught from Reborn.
Before he can go on, however... Something in the gloom seems wrong, and a crinkle starts to gather between his eyebrows. Tsuna shifts forward, his other hand trying to find the other man's face. "Something... wrong with your eyes...?"
Having spoke in sleepy modern Italian upon being disturbed Hayato instantly comes more awake when he registers the name Tsuna calls him and the language he's speaking. He switches to Japanese and reaches out, cupping Tsuna's face. He's never sure quite how to help in these situations. He's seen G, sees him every day in some of the portraits in the Storm corridors. Hayato knows he could be a carbon copy if his coloring was different.
"You can wake me whenever you want, Tsuna. You know that." He slides back in the bed from the edge and opens the blankets invitingly. "Get in with me. Let me hold you." He doesn't know if Giotto and G ever did this, but he's going to try and comfort Tsuna anyway.
"You're Sawada Tsunayoshi. I'm Gokudera Hayato, and the year is 20--."
"And your tattoo..." He's still murmuring dazedly, even when Hayato cups his face. Hardly any invitation needs to be spoken. The gesture seems to be enough to push him up to his feet so he can crawl into bed with him. He's still softly touching along his face, fingers following the curve of his cheek down to his jaw.
Dark red eyes. Brilliant red tattoos. And hair, too, pale red hair, not glimmering silver-
Tsuna blinks, slowly but surely pulling himself out of the mess of memories that cling to him like mud. "Hayato..." It's a soft repetition of the words he's just been told. His fingers go to that brilliant pale hair. "Hayato... Not..." Not G.
"I don't have one." He catches Tsuna's hand and pulls it gently to his ear and the piercings there instead so he can feel the difference. Hayato slides their legs together and scoots in close, sharing warmth.
"Not G. Hayato Gokudera. Tenth generation, Tsuna. You're not Giotto." He wonders if he's taking a risking actually using the Primo's name before Tsuna's pulled himself out of this, but he's done it and it's too late to take back.
Instead, he tucks his face against Tsuna's hair and nuzzles him for a moment.
Even when Hayato tucks his face into Tsuna's mess of hair, he's still feeling along the curve of his ear with such attentive care. Every finger lingers against each piercing, feeling the way it protrudes from his skin and is lukewarm to his skin.
"Hayato." Another soft repetition of his name. Hayato, the tenth generation Storm, piercings and fire, it's... That's right, not G, G is so different. His brow starts to furrow harder, an almost physical effort to something mental. "Gokudera Hayato."
The Japanese way of saying his name. Progress, in a way.
"That's me." He smiles and stretches out next to Tsuna a little, trying to think of something else that would help. His eyes fall on the small piano in his room, the same one he had bought himself before ever meeting Tsuna or traveling to Japan.
His mother's is there at the Japanese base, incentive to get him out of Italy sometimes, and there were a few others throughout the Vongola holdings all old and beautiful and he was honored to play on themwhen he could, but this one, the little piano he had bought himself sat in place of a desk in his bedroom.
By order of Tsuna himself and Takeshi, Hayato wasn't allowed to have a desk in his bedroom or he would never sleep.
There's just another muffled murmur of his name, like it's a charm to bring back his sense of stability, and Tsuna's touch starts to become less exploratory and just repetitive as he strokes the shell of Hayato's ear.
The memories are still tangled together, but at least they're all apparent instead of just one and very wrong dominating set. There are faces and names he knows Giotto isn't familiar with and, bit by bit, he thinks he's sorting it all out.
The request makes him blink back to awareness. "Play?" A mental image, this same person seated at a- "Piano?"
Hayato smiles when Tsuna puts the pieces together without further prompting or leading. He hums and his silver eyelashes flutter over his green eyes.
"That's right. I've got mine right over there. I can play for you, or I can stay right here for you. Whatever you want, Tsuna."
He let's himself use Tsuna's first name. This is personal, not business, it's intimate, and the more reminders he can give his best friend of his identity the better.
"Of course you can. You can have whatever I can give you." Hayato's not Takeshi, but he's no slouch, Tsuna's frame is entirely compacted hand-to-hand fighter's muscle, but he lifts him anyway, carrying softly to the piano bench. He settles down, and sits Tsuna in his lap, reaching around him for the keys as his feet tested the pedals.
For Hayato, Tsuna stays still and quiet. It feels kind of nice, to be carried, to listen to a heartbeat so near to him. Hayato is warm and comforting. Better, even, then the person the Vongola memories tried to think of.
Perhaps he's just biased.
"Not anything sad." A little dreamily, he reaches over to trace the back of Hayato's hand. "What are happier songs?"
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badliifechoiice22016-01-03 08:14 pm
no subject
There's a figure in the bed. It's him. He knows it is. Who else could it be in G's bed?
He's already tired, so the best Tsuna can do is wobble over besides his bed and reach over to take his best friend's hand into his as he slumps down to his knees. There's something off here, something in the shadows that doesn't seem right, but it's not enough to knock his thoughts back into place just yet.
no subject
"Boss? Are you alright? Why aren't you in bed?"
Give him another beat or two and he'll panic but for the moment he's filled with sleepy confusion.
no subject
There's so much wrong with what he's saying, and he doesn't even know it. It's not even just the wrong name. It's even the language on his tongue. Tsuna always speaks in Japanese in private when he's with his friends, keeping some part of home with him. It helps to deal with such displacement. But this is Italian... Old Italian, too, the dialect so different from what Tsuna had been taught from Reborn.
Before he can go on, however... Something in the gloom seems wrong, and a crinkle starts to gather between his eyebrows. Tsuna shifts forward, his other hand trying to find the other man's face. "Something... wrong with your eyes...?"
no subject
"You can wake me whenever you want, Tsuna. You know that." He slides back in the bed from the edge and opens the blankets invitingly. "Get in with me. Let me hold you." He doesn't know if Giotto and G ever did this, but he's going to try and comfort Tsuna anyway.
"You're Sawada Tsunayoshi. I'm Gokudera Hayato, and the year is 20--."
no subject
Dark red eyes. Brilliant red tattoos. And hair, too, pale red hair, not glimmering silver-
Tsuna blinks, slowly but surely pulling himself out of the mess of memories that cling to him like mud. "Hayato..." It's a soft repetition of the words he's just been told. His fingers go to that brilliant pale hair. "Hayato... Not..." Not G.
no subject
"Not G. Hayato Gokudera. Tenth generation, Tsuna. You're not Giotto." He wonders if he's taking a risking actually using the Primo's name before Tsuna's pulled himself out of this, but he's done it and it's too late to take back.
Instead, he tucks his face against Tsuna's hair and nuzzles him for a moment.
no subject
"Hayato." Another soft repetition of his name. Hayato, the tenth generation Storm, piercings and fire, it's... That's right, not G, G is so different. His brow starts to furrow harder, an almost physical effort to something mental. "Gokudera Hayato."
The Japanese way of saying his name. Progress, in a way.
no subject
His mother's is there at the Japanese base, incentive to get him out of Italy sometimes, and there were a few others throughout the Vongola holdings all old and beautiful and he was honored to play on themwhen he could, but this one, the little piano he had bought himself sat in place of a desk in his bedroom.
By order of Tsuna himself and Takeshi, Hayato wasn't allowed to have a desk in his bedroom or he would never sleep.
"Do you want me to play for you?"
no subject
The memories are still tangled together, but at least they're all apparent instead of just one and very wrong dominating set. There are faces and names he knows Giotto isn't familiar with and, bit by bit, he thinks he's sorting it all out.
The request makes him blink back to awareness. "Play?" A mental image, this same person seated at a- "Piano?"
no subject
"That's right. I've got mine right over there. I can play for you, or I can stay right here for you. Whatever you want, Tsuna."
He let's himself use Tsuna's first name. This is personal, not business, it's intimate, and the more reminders he can give his best friend of his identity the better.
no subject
Just sitting besides him as he plays, keeping both his warmth near while something- maybe familiar even- plays and soothes him.
Or maybe that's not possible. But he'd like it to be.
no subject
"What sort of thing would you like to hear?"
no subject
Perhaps he's just biased.
"Not anything sad." A little dreamily, he reaches over to trace the back of Hayato's hand. "What are happier songs?"