Chapter Text
On Monday morning, Tsuna and Gokudera walked up to Namimori Middle only to find that the building had undergone some changes; specifically the roof, which now had a tall, chain-link fence surrounding the perimeter.
Gokudera whistled. “They did all that yesterday? Everything gets done so quickly in Japan.”
Tsuna stared up at the looming structure, imagining himself and Yamamoto up there, all those weeks ago. The fence would have been helpful then. A lot of schools had them nowadays, but Namimori just… never did. Until now, apparently.
And Tsuna couldn’t help but wonder…
***
Something felt off in school that day, though Tsuna couldn’t figure out why. No specific thing or person seemed to be the culprit; it was more a lingering, oppressive atmosphere that affected Tsuna’s classmates and teachers. Everyone was distracted, nervous for some indiscernible reason. Tsuna didn’t really care as much. He lived in a different world from his peers. That sort of ominous, weighted feeling was nothing new to him.
Tsuna opted to just ignore it. It had nothing to do with him.
He and Gokudera had cleaning duty after classes had ended for the day. Takeda made it a point to pair the two of them together whenever he could; maybe he wanted to make sure the new transfer student was comfortable, or maybe he felt badly for the infinitely scorned Tsuna, who had so very few people with which he felt comfortable.
Tsuna didn’t care either way. He felt he and Gokudera were past the first awkward stages of their relationship. As soon as their classmates left for home or various clubs, Gokudera became an entirely different person. Gone were the tense silences and uncertain glances from the day, replaced instead by the light conversation and furtive smiles they shared at home.
There was still something cautious and airy about the way Gokudera held himself, but Tsuna was starting to get a clearer picture of the person Gokudera was; or who he might’ve been, under different circumstances.
“Did you hear what Iki said earlier?” Gokudera asked from the back of the classroom, where he was pulling the brooms they needed to sweep the floors from the closet.
“About courting?” Tsuna ventured, coughing into the cloud of chalk dust that was thrown up when he clapped the chalkboard erasers together. “Not really, I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“’Courting is so dumb, why can’t we just go out to karaoke and call it good?’” Gokudera said mockingly, in a poor imitation of Iki’s deep, slow drawl. Tsuna laughed regardless. “Like he’s got everything figured out? I bet he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”
Tsuna hummed. “Mom always talks about her courtship with my dad like it was the greatest thing in the world. But that was… I don’t know, seventeen years ago? Things are different now, I guess.”
“We take those things very seriously in Naples,” Gokudera said. “Not that I have much experience with it. But you’d never hear anyone say something like that where I come from. A courtship can make or break an entire mating.”
“I guess it’s a cultural thing,” Tsuna replied, turning his head when he heard a muffled jingling sound from his desk. “I think that’s my phone. Would you get it for me, it might be Mom.”
Gokudera nodded, leaning one of the brooms against the wall so one hand was free to go rooting through Tsuna’s backpack. “Yamamoto wants to know if you’re still here,” Gokudera said once he’d found Tsuna’s phone and skimmed over it. “He wants to talk to you about something.”
“That’s weird,” Tsuna mused. “He isn’t normally done with practice until five-thirty or six. Tell him we’re still up in the classroom.”
Gokudera nodded, typing out the message before putting Tsuna’s phone in his backpack and zipping it up. “I didn’t know you even had a cell-phone.”
“Yamamoto-kun’s the only one who really messages me,” Tsuna said, clapping the erasers together again. “Mom said I should have one in case she needs to reach me, but it’s not like I go anywhere aside from school.”
Gokudera breathed out a soft laugh before twitching and turning his head toward the classroom’s front-most door. Fast footsteps sounded from the hall, growing gradually closer. “That was fast,” commented Gokudera.
“You’re done with practice early,” Tsuna said in greeting as Yamamoto came into the room. He set the erasers down and turned back to the beta. “Did something happen?”
“Coach told us to go home after our meeting,” Yamamoto said as he walked up to him, looking harried. “Suzuki was kicked off the team.”
Tsuna’s blood ran cold. Gokudera shifted nervously amidst the rows of desks, clutching the handle of his broom with white knuckles.
This was what Tsuna had been afraid of. Suzuki was probably a vital part of the school’s baseball team, being both an upperclassman and an alpha. For some reason, Hibari had decided to bring the situation to the baseball coach’s attention. Tsuna had just thrown a wrench in the structure and dynamic of the team that they likely wouldn’t recover from before tournament season. “I – I’m sorry, Yamamoto-kun,” Tsuna began, but Yamamoto shook his head, jaw clenched.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yamamoto asked, face pinched in a way that Tsuna found worryingly familiar. “How come I had to find out that way?”
Tsuna floundered for something to say, heart an anxious patter in his chest as he cowered underneath Yamamoto’s stare. “I didn’t want to cause problems for you,” he began, though he was immediately filled with regret as Yamamoto’s dark eyes widened. “It really wasn’t a big deal, Suzuki was just worried – “
“Forget about Suzuki!” Yamamoto exclaimed, as close to raising his voice as Tsuna had ever heard from the usually laid-back beta. Gokudera whined a little, but Tsuna couldn’t tear his focus from Yamamoto long enough to comfort him. “I don’t care about him, I barely knew him. He assaulted you, Tsuna, two days ago. And I didn’t know about it.”
Tsuna’s ears were ringing. He felt off-balance, like he’d fall over at the slightest force. All he knew was that Yamamoto was angry, he was mad at him, Tsuna had to fix this, he knew this would happen eventually, what could he do to fix this –
“It was my problem,” said Tsuna, his voice sounding far away even to his own ears. Yamamoto’s face swam before him. The beta seemed horrified. “And I thought you’d take his side.”
Gokudera made a choked noise, and Yamamoto flinched back like Tsuna had struck him, hunching his shoulders. “I gotta – “ the beta said in a rush, trailing off as his voice cracked. He tossed his head, like he was shaking water from his ears, before turning and dashing from the room. All Tsuna could do was watch him go.
“You can stop now,” Gokudera said quietly, when Yamamoto was long gone and Tsuna had yet to move. He sounded shaken, definitely, but mostly he just seemed worried, hurrying over to Tsuna’s side.
For a moment, Tsuna didn’t know what Gokudera was talking about. But then he noticed how dizzy he was getting, vision blurred from something other than tears. He lost his balance slightly, falling against the chalkboard. Gokudera swayed after him, dropping the broom like he’d meant to steady Tsuna. It clattered to the floor with a loud sound that rang in Tsuna’s ears.
“Careful, you might have cervical vertigo,” said Gokudera, hands hovering by Tsuna’s right shoulder but never actually touching it. Tsuna whimpered slightly, straightening his head from its tilted position. Cervical vertigo happened sometimes when omegas presented their necks, either too quickly or at a poor angle.
It was nothing Tsuna hadn't dealt with before; but as his desperate fear began to dissipate, Tsuna felt absolutely mortified. He’d tried to submit to Yamamoto.
He buried his face in his hands, shuddering out deep breaths and pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. This was the part of himself that Tsuna hated most; the part that was deeply omega and rolled over at the first sign of trouble.
And Yamamoto had seen. He would understand now, why their classmates had targeted Tsuna all these years. Because Tsuna was weak, stupid, no good. He couldn’t defend himself or get a grip on his own instincts, despite having presented over two years ago.
He would see that Suzuki had been right. Yamamoto had gotten involved with Tsuna, and nothing good had come of it.
Tsuna felt a light touch on his shoulder, growing firmer as Tsuna was guided away from the chalkboard. “It’s okay, Tsuna, you’re okay.” Gokudera wound an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, taking hold of Tsuna’s right forearm with the other. “Yamamoto isn’t angry with you.”
“He is!” Tsuna gasped out. “I ruined everything again!”
Gokudera shushed him, tugging gently. “You didn’t ruin anything. Here, come with me. Just take little steps.”
Tsuna could do little but cry, letting Gokudera guide him to the closest desk and ease him down into it. “Just relax for a minute,” the other omega instructed. “Breathe deeply. Everything will stop spinning soon.”
Everything had already stopped spinning; but there was still a lingering nausea, and Tsuna’s stomach churned ominously, threatening to expel everything Tsuna had eaten throughout the day. Still, he breathed as Gokudera instructed, unable to resist with Gokudera crouched down before him, staring up at Tsuna so earnestly.
He didn’t know how long they stayed there. Gokudera eventually wandered off to finish cleaning the room by himself. Tsuna listened to the soft swishes of the broom as Gokudera swept up all the chalk dust. He listened to the sounds of the school: a whistle being blown from the field, faint music drifting up from the cultural clubs' building.
The weird atmosphere from the day seemed to be gone. Tsuna might have been the only one who didn’t feel any better for it.
***
Nana took one look at him and knew something was wrong. Tsuna loved her so desperately in the moments it took her to abandon her vacuuming, wipe her hands on her pink apron, and hurry over to him. All he’d thought about on the walk home was getting back to her. Come what may, Nana would always be Tsuna’s safe space, his only place to return. “What happened?” she demanded, taking Tsuna’s face in her hands. “Your skin is so clammy!”
“I got cervical vertigo,” said Tsuna. Gokudera nodded beside him. “It was pretty bad this time.”
Nana made a distressed sound, drawing Tsuna to her like Gokudera had back in the classroom. “Here, come sit down,” she cooed, leading him to the couch. He heard Gokudera starting up the stairs behind them, probably going to put their backpacks in Tsuna’s room. “You tried to submit to someone? Were you being threatened?”
“No, I – “ Tsuna choked on his words. How could he possibly tell her he’d submitted to his only friend. And not out of respect or anything of the sort – out of fear. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to – “
Nana shushed him, taking his hands in hers as they sank down onto the couch together. “I know, sweetie, I know. It’s not your fault. You did what you thought you had to, no one can blame you for that.”
Tsuna disagreed. Completely and wholeheartedly. He sniffled, congested and aching all over. Nana ran her fingers through his hair, humming low in the back of her throat. “Tsunayoshi,” she murmured. “Can I touch your neck?”
Tsuna nodded immediately, for he’d almost been hoping she’d ask. Nana was careful as she moved her hand to the nape of his neck, applying a pressure that was wholly removed from the way Suzuki had done it. “There you go,” said Nana as Tsuna started to go limp. She positioned him so she supported the majority of his body weight, tucking his head into the curve of her neck and shoulder. “I’ve got you, everything’s okay now.”
The omega’s eyes fluttered shut. Nana hadn’t done this in a long time, mostly because Tsuna hadn’t let her. He’d felt weak for needing this sometimes, but Tsuna just couldn’t bring himself to care now. It was different when it was someone Tsuna trusted, someone he loved. His lack of control didn’t scare him; he knew he was safe here, and that Nana would protect him.
Footsteps sounded. Tsuna wasn’t worried about it. “What happened?” That was Reborn's voice. “He okay?”
“He tried to submit to someone, apparently,” replied Nana, her tone soft and light. “He got cervical vertigo.”
A rumbling growl. Tsuna squeezed out a small, low whine, and the growling stopped. “Did someone threaten him?”
“I asked the same thing. He said no, but,” she started running her fingers through Tsuna’s hair again, “I can’t say for sure. He’s not normally this upset.”
“This happens often? Nana – “
“We were handling it,” said Nana, calmly. “He’s getting better. This is the first time it’s happened in months.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve – I would’ve – “
Tsuna felt Nana’s chin brush his forehead as she shook her head. Her gentle grip on the back of his neck tightened briefly before relaxing once more. “Tsu-kun doesn’t need an alpha throwing his weight around. You do more by just being here than you could by storming into that school.”
Reborn said something else, but Tsuna’s comprehension of the world around him was starting to fizzle out. It wasn’t a bad feeling; Tsuna liked feeling weightless every once in a while.
“Tsuna.” The sound of his name dragged Tsuna back out for a few, brief moments. Reborn’s and Nana’s voices were muffled, like Tsuna was listening from under a fuzzy blanket. “I know you can still hear us, kiddo. Whatever happened, we’ll help you deal with it, okay? Don’t worry so much, you’ll start going bald like your old man.”
“Oh, he’ll so be embarrassed when he wakes up… but that’s all right,” said Nana. “We love you, Tsu-kun. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
And Tsuna drifted off, just like that.