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Yamamoto stumbled into Gokudera’s room hyperventilating and crying, falling to his knees as his whole body shook with shock at the knowledge Tsuna had given him before letting him go back to his and Gokudera’s shared quarters. Choking on air as he tried to call out for his lover, his lover that also knew the pain of losing a beloved parent to the cold hands of the Mafia except Lavina died instantly upon collision with the ground while Tsuyoshi had fought to the death trying to return to his sons side.
“Takeshi what are you doing I heard you come in but,” Gokudera trailed of at the sight of Yamamoto kneeled on the floor looking as if his whole world was about to shatter without something to hold him together. Swiftly making his way across the room Gokudera dropped to his knees next to the blue eyed male ignoring the sting it caused in his knees and wrapped his arms around Yamamoto’s shoulders.
Carefully shifting the two of them around so that Yamamoto was clutching his chesty instead of the rough capert, Gokudera started humming a soft tune his mother used to sing to him when he was young and upset. Rubbing Yamamoto’s back soothingly Gokudera placed their foreheads against each other purposely making eye contact as blurry sky blue eyes looked at him full of despair while their owner hiccuped and wailed.
“It’s okay Takeshi,” Gokudera murmured softly, “it may not be okay now but it will be okay some day. For now just look at me, focus on me and try to sync our breathing okay? Your going to faint from lack of oxygen otherwise, besides your old man went down fighting and didn’t he take out nearly three quarters of the men sent after him? Clearly they underestimated him.” He teased lightly hoping to see the spark of happiness light up again in the blue eyes that kept him coming home after every mission out into the Millefiore ruled world.
“Hehe,” Yamamoto have a watery chuckle syncing his breath shakily to Gokudera’s, “your right. My old man was to much for them to handle even pushing fifty years old.” He giggled quietly at the mental image of his father killing nearly forty men of the sixty sent to eliminate him.
“You’ll be alright Takeshi,” Gokudera soothed softly, “not right now, not immediately but you will heal and I would be honoured to help you heal for however long it takes. For now though even the rain needs to cry sometimes.” He murmured, cradling Yamamoto to his chest as the other started to wail and hiccup without the hyperventilating this time, tucking the black haired male under his chin and humming again.